Victoria's Secret

“Here I am Lord and I’m drowning”

Let’s just face it.  This blog isn’t funny anymore.  Also, I am thinking I might have ADD…this blog has no flow and I jump from subject to subject.  Is it any wonder why John can’t follow what I am talking about half the time?

No matter how much chocolate I eat he will still be leaving but I am working very hard to test that theory. I am cleaning out my closet like I do before each move.  After having two kids there are always clothes that are either too big or too small that I send on to Goodwill.  I stumbled upon a robe from Victoria’s Secret and checked the size.  “One size” it said.  One size?  Nothing in her store should be listed as one size!  That store should be the MOST specific when it comes to sizing.  Victoria, of all the things I want to fit well…it’s my secret clothes.  Maybe it’s just me.

We have just recently started saying “no” to Katie.  Each time we do her little bottom lip comes out and starts to quiver.  It makes me laugh every time.  The other day she was going for an electrical outlet and John said “no” in that big Dad voice.  Instantly Katie AND Lilyana started sobbing. 

“What is Daddy saying to baby Katie?”  Lilyana sobs.  Estrogen anyone?  I guess Lilyana isn’t accustomed to hearing us reprimand Katie.

I am usually too tired to watch TV but I am obsessed with Dowton Abbey.  Anyone else?

At the mall last week the hair people asked if I ever put any curl in my hair.  If you are wondering why this is blog worthy….read my previous entries.  I GIVE UP.

I am currently at war with fondant.  I can’t get it to taste right.  My Soldier was trying to help me fix my problem.  Many times I complain to him about a problem with my sugary concoctions and he heads off into the garage.  Oddly, he usually comes up with some way to make it work.  “What about a different turn table?” “Would your electric knife work?”   I just waiting to take a cake someplace one day and discover grease on it somewhere.  The cake I made yesterday was beautiful and I hated to cut it.  I should have gone with my instincts.  It tasted horrific.  We have yet to determine what happened.  I suspected substandard fondant.

I am fairly well versed in Army language but when I ask Hubby for updates about what is going on I can get lost.  I know a good deal of Spanish but he is fluent.  I told him last night that that’s what I feel like.   It’s like when he talks to me in Spanish.  I can usually catch the general meaning of the conversation and recognize words but get lost on specifics.  Waiting on regiment, calling battalion, needing form DD1234, PCS, EMFP, ABC123…there are only so many acronyms I can process at 10pm.

There was a small function at his office today but we didn’t make it.  I was a little disappointed partly because I went to the effort of getting all fancy and also because it’s good to see or to be reminded why we do this.  I cry at any Army function…pledge of allegiance, saluting, organized yelling, marching, seeing him stand in a row with so many other guys.  It all gets me.  Maybe it’s best I didn’t go because tears can’t be good for false eyelashes.  Why do they yell so much?  Silly boys.

Playing the backyard Lilyana was kind of dragging Katie around trying to steady her walk.  I tried to explain “Honey, you have to let her hold your hand instead of you holding on to her”  and my comment instantly reminded me of a song by Casting Crowns

“I’m not holding on to you, but you’re holding on to me”

I sure hope that’s true because I feel like I’m losing my grip. 

I will close by saying that my child is registered for preschool next fall in two different states.  Just in case.  Sometimes you have to look at the humorous side of it!

In a holding pattern

¹ Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High
will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.^[a]
2 I will say of the LORD, “He is my refuge and my fortress,
my God, in whom I trust.”  Psalm 91

I haven’t put anything on here recently because I just have a one track mind.  So I have given up.  Here is what is occupying my days and nights.

An envelope came in the mail today requesting I subscribe to Army Times.  They offered a free camouflage back pack.  Really?  Whew, I was really running low on camo things covered in velcro.  (Why does Word keep trying to capitalize velcro?  Is it someone’s name?) 

I am always singing or humming and I’m usually not aware of it.  This can be problematic if you are brainwashed with weird marching songs.  He is playing with Thing 1 in the living room and I hear him singing

“My buddy’s in a foxhole….with a bullet in his head.” 

“Goodness Honey you are going to traumatize her!”

Who makes up these cadences?  I guess they can’t march while singing “these are a few of my favorite things”  (I could)

I haven’t put up the window treatments in our bedroom.  As I sit here the rods are still in the closet waiting to be hung.  I keep meaning to do it but I guess it’s too late now.  There are two unpacked boxes in the corner.  The odd thing is I still have to unpack them so the Army can repack them.  They will only insure things that they pack.  Makes sense I guess.

We are “in a holding pattern” he tells me.  We know where he is going and when but they are lots of details from transportation about packing etc. that we are waiting on.  We probably won’t know the exact move date until a week or so before the move.  Soon he will attend a briefing that we have been waiting for.  “What will you know after that briefing?”….”probably nothing” he tells me. 

We had a yard sale this weekend.  It’s weird to sell some things.  Things we know we won’t need for the next five years might as well go.  I don’t mean old baby clothes, but that was hard too. 

He took Thing 1 to the movies so I decided to take the little one for a stroll.  It would be good to get a chance to clear my head.  I don’t know what I was thinking.  Cue the waterworks.  Stupid Coldplay. 

Here’s the thing, I DON’T WANT HIM TO LEAVE FOR 18 MONTHS!!  I want to scream…I want to stomp my foot on the ground and refuse to leave my room.  I want to run into backyard and scream at the top of my lungs “THIS IS BS!”   But, that probably won’t make me feel any better.  Then I would have to explain to my Mom where Lilyana is hearing that kind of language and I know that Christian women shouldn’t swear.  Personally, I think Jesus would understand. 

Really, there’s no one to be mad at.  Maybe that’s part of the problem.  You can’t be mad at the Army.  I love the Army. 

“I want to go to the museum Mommy”

“Well, the museum you like is far away near Nana’s house”

“oh'"

"Do you remember that I told you we were going to stay with her and that Daddy is going on a long work trip?”

“yes”

“well, when we are with Nana you can go to the museum”

“that be very fun mommy!”

(sigh)

I don’t want to move out of this house.  I don’t want to leave Savannah.  Why would anyone want to leave Savannah?  There is more than normal kissing and hugging around our house.  Small things that usually make you crazy about your spouse are being overlooked and forgiven. At least on my end J

“Do you want to take that to your mom’s or put it in storage?”

“You need to learn this so you can do it when I’m gone”

I don’t want to learn about the virus software.  I don’t want you to leave.

 

 The days go on as normal mostly.  Dishes and laundry.  Playdates and church.

Standing at the kitchen sink I can hear them coming from far off.  Slowing the pictures on the wall begin to rattle.  “OOOOO!!!!   Mommy, it’s Daddy’s copters! Copters Mommy!!!!”

We run outside like we always do and wait to see them fly over the yard.  She jumps in the air with her hands up.  It does look like they are close enough to touch.  I’ve ridden in one and I know the pilots can see us.  I can tell which unit they are from by looking at them.  Two giant Chinooks.  I’m always amazed they stay up there in the sky.  We watch them fly off into the distance.  The sound is indescribable.

“That’s the sound of freedom Baby”