Full Steam Ahead

My husband returned to me yesterday afternoon with a big smile on his face and some very interesting stories to tell about MEPS. I'll save those for a later date. For now, I'll just say he passed. He made tape. He passed the physical. He is good to go.

Evan's First Night Without Daddy

Last night, as a van pulled away with my husband in it, I was more concerned with how I was going to handle it than I was my son's reaction. Evan is a very resilient little boy, adn most of the time, if one does not make a fuss over the issue, he may not even notice something is amiss. Yesterday was no exception for my baby boy. I allowed him to play outside until 2100, as those lovely summer nights equate to no nightfall until well after bedtime. He waved goodbye to Daddy and continued to play. No problem. But then bedtime hit. Teeth were brushed, jammies were donned, and the boy was tucked in. But then I heard the little footsteps padding down the stairs. Big, fat tears rolling down his little angel face. "Mommy, my Daddy's not here! You have to read me two stories since he isn't here!" His tiny fists held out two story books, and so we read. The tears continued. "Mommy, I can't give Daddy a hug and kiss goodnight!" I offered him a picture frame with a small snapshot of John in it, but this simply would not do. So I zoomed in on a picture of John's face I had saved on the computer, to where it appeared almost life-sized. Evan kissed his Daddy on the screen, but insisted he take the smaller framed picture to bed with him. But then it was "Mommy, I want to sleep in something that reminds me of Daddy." I dug through a basket of clean laundry to offer up a tee for my baby to sleep in, but no. It had to smell like Daddy. So hand-in-hand, Evan and I traipsed up the stairs to locate John's cologne so Evan could smell Daddy while he drifted off to sleep. Before I knew it, all was silent, and I was alone with my thoughts. I missed him.

101

This is the 101st post here on my little blog. Wow! Really? I closed my eyes, typing blindly and made it the 100-post mark. Not such a big deal, right? Well, not so fast. I'm a bit flaky. Pretty persistent in all other aspects of my life. But I get these little short-lived urges to keep journals or memoirs, and I will go to a store somewhere and find these beautiful little journals, and start writing, only to drop it a short while later. When I die, and someone is forced to go through my effects, they will find a plethora of these with short blurbs about my life and my thoughts. Maybe, just maybe, if that individual strings them altogether, he or she will come up with some random sequence. So...Here I am. I've managed to produce 100 posts, which makes me want to give myself a little pat on the back. I've managed to stick with blogging significantly better than I have with physical writing. Which serves as a nice segue into my next issue. How does one produce these blogs that boast hundreds of thousands of visits each week? I'm sure the skill of the blogger has something to do with it. I'm no Hemingway. And this is more for myself anyhow. And I must admit to being technologically impaired. I cannot seem to get my favorites to work on Technorati and blogrolling is lost to me. If I stumble upon a link I like, I do it the old-fashioned way of cutting and pasting the URL in my little list on here. So if any bloggers have stumbled upon my little patch of ground in Cyberland and have any tips, let me know.

He isn't .....

...At MEPS. He called his recruiter yesterday and asked when he was going to be picked up to go, and the recruiter said that there was some sort of problem with paperwork and he wouldn't be going until tonight. So here we go again.

Laziness= Me

Blee-blee-Do-da Blah-blah-blah...... Guess what? I have done nothing today other than the crying jag just completed about 2 minutes ago. I am not even cooking dinner, as our neighbors have decided that tonight is a communal taco night. So when they get home from their daughter's soccer practice, I am going to be consuming other people's food. I have not cleaned. I have not done laundry. I can't even remember if I brushed my hair, though I distinctly remember taking a shower and pulling it back. My husband is leaving tomorrow. He may come back as a committed US Soldier. So I could not care less if the laundry is done. Or the house is clean. All I care about at this point in time is absorbing all of John that I can while he is here by my side. While I can still hear him breathe as we fall asleep together at night. While I can still feel his strong arm's around me and the beat of his heart while we cuddle up to a movie. I feel like my breath is being taken from me. The mundane details will have to wait.

Nothing Quite Like Early-Morning Surfing

Okay, so it is quiet, The alarm has not gone off yet, and I am doing some research into what my husband will be asked to do over the course of the next months/ days/ years/ whatever. Some interesting stuff on Warrior Transition Course: http://www.armystudyguide.com/content/Prep_For_Basic_Training/warrior_transition_course_information/warrior-transition-course.shtml http://www.dix.army.mil/PAO/post05/post092305/WarriorCourse.htm And on Combat Medic, errr 68W Healthcare Specialist Training: http://www.cs.amedd.army.mil/68w/FC&P/FC&P.htm Apparently his training will only be 16 weeks, plus the 4 weeks or so for the Warrior Transition Course. Not too bad, actually. I am pleasantly surprised.

0300?

I was awakened by two different things this morning, both of which are extremely aggravating. The first was this awful dream I had about John and the military. He had reenlisted, gone through the Warrior Transition Course, as planned, and was almost finished with AIT when he called me and said he had gotten orders to ship to Afghanistan. So I was going to have to go without seeing him for two whole years. But then I hear this shrill screaming outside our apartment. It was 0230 on a school night! I was worried it would wake Evan. It didn't seem to be a "help me" sort of scream, but rather a we-are-morons variety of scream. I waited for it to stop, and when it did not, I went outside to check. This may have been a mistake, seeing as I am blind as a bat when it is not dark or in the middle of the night when I am half asleep. But then I stumble my groggy arse out without glasses. I think I cussed out someone I did not know. I still have no idea who it was. I hope it was not a neighbor I am friendly with. I guess I won't be anymore if it was. So now I am sitting here, fully awake. I have been since 0300. It is now 0542, and I have already brewed coffee, had a cup and getting ready to fill 'er up a second time. I have managed to eat breakfast ( mmmmmm, Cheerios) and get my morning supply of nicotine. Lets' start the day!