I Promised No Pictures

This morning is a big morning around our house.  It is actually the first of two big mornings in a row.  Right now, as I type, My Husband is off taking the written test to apply for the San Diego Sheriff's Department.  Yikes!  It is a little scary and very nerve wracking.  We have been leading up to this for a while.  He has applied to seven different agencies in three different states, all in the hopes of landing a law enforcement job somewhere.  This is the first test he will take out of all of them.
Even though yesterday was tax day, and I spent a great deal of time working on three sets of taxes for other family members, we also spent a good portion of the day getting him ready for today, mostly by buying him clothes.  He had none.  The proper dress for this test is business casual.  When you have been in the military for 20 years, you don't necessarily have business casual clothes. The clothes he did have, he likes to wear baggy, and they wouldn't be appropriate for this.  When we started thinking about it, we probably haven't bought him any nice clothes since his sister got married years ago.  In fact, he may have even had the clothes before that.  I think it has been 10 years since we last bought him nice dress shoes, slacks, or anything like that.  I know that sounds crazy, but when you wear a uniform of some sort every single day, you just don't have to deal with other business attire, and you only want super casual clothes for your days off.
So, last night, we went out in search of the right look.  As I don't buy men's clothes on a regular basis, either, I wasn't totally on the ball with everything either.  Thankfully, I had a life line.  I have a fabulous friend that I simply texted "Fashion help!" to, and she came to the rescue with clothing advice and business casual rules.  I love her.   I should have just taken her shopping with us.  My Husband would have come out looking hella fabulous.  As it is, I think we did pretty good.  I tired to take a picture to post of him, but he "politely" request that I nowt.  I think he looked great when he walked out the door this morning.   Good enough that I was trying to get some extra kisses in.  He wasn't having it, though.  His nerves were getting the better of him.  The test was at 8:00am.  The place is 3 miles from our house.  He was told to be there thirty minutes before the start.  He left at 6:50am.  Can you feel the nervous energy?
This test may determine the rest of our lives.   We will seriously take the first place that accepts him, and offers him a job.  So, where we live, or don't live, may in part be determined this morning.  I
am hoping for the best.  I have faith in him.  I know he can do well on this test, and every other step of the process.  Now, I'm going to go get dressed for the day, and find something to do to calm my nerves while we wait a little more.

Hurry Up and Wait

Being a military spouse, I would say that I have spent a great deal of time playing the waiting game.  In between trying to get orders, deployments, moving, and everything else we do, it seems like waiting is what we do most.  I really thought that when we started to transition over to civilian life, that would change, but in fact, it seems to be at its worst.
My husband has decided to go into law enforcement.  He wants to be a police officer.  I totally support him in this.  I think this is a great career move for him.  He is totally dedicated to the idea, and having spent the last decade as a military family, I think the lifestyle will be more like what we already know.
Since he was deployed until close to the end of February, we have been working on getting him a job since he came home.  The problem is, everything from here on out is a waiting game.  There are a lot of steps that you much go through to get a law enforcement job, much more than a normal job.  We do one little piece, then wait.  Something else, then wait.  You get it. First, we built his resume.  Then we needed references.  Pretty much all the people he works with were on leave.  So, we waited until everyone came back to work to ask to use them as references, or at least until we could actually get in touch with them since so many were traveling.  We submitted his application, and then found out we needed his diploma and things like that.  We waited for it to come in the mail.  We sent that off, and waited for an email confirmation from each city.  After that, we did some secondary tests.  Some cities we are still waiting for that step on, more than a month later.  We are finally onto the written in house tests for a few places that he must go to each location for, and in one city past that, but the wait after those is excruciating.  It takes weeks to get your test results back, and find out if you passed with a high enough score to move on.  Each an every step has a wait in between and the waits can be a week, a month, or more.

We have very little time left.  He has just under one month before we go on what is called terminal leave.  That basically means he saved up a lot of vacation days and gets to use them all at the end of his final enlistment to give us time to move and get settled in.  Of course, when you don't know where you are going, that time doesn't do you much good.  We have only three and a half months total before he is totally out of the military.  That's it.   All done.  Three and a half months is nothing when it takes up to a year to get a law enforcement job.  WE would have started earlier, but its nearly impossible when deployed.
Then, on top of all that, we have one of the largest bureaucratic oversights ever made to deal with.  When you want to apply for any job, and that job gives veterans preference, the job requires a copy of your DD214, the form military members are given when they get out.  Problem is, you don't get it until you get out.  That actually changed recently, and you can get the form, for the purposes of getting  job, a little bit before you get out.  My Husband will get his in May.  Again, we need it before May.  Each time he applies somewhere, we have to explain he is military, but active duty.  So, he doesn't have the form.  Then, he may or may not be eligible to claim veterans preference, based on the sole discretion and understanding of whomever answers that phone.  Some places have accepted a letter from the command stating that he will retire with an honorable discharge.  Some have not.  So, we wait.  Longer and longer, making it harder an harder to find a job, let alone the right job.
This all blows my mind.  You would think that being in the military, already having his government clearance, and being exactly the kind of person that any law enforcement agency would want with all the training he already has, that this would go fast, but that simply isn't true.  So, I sit here this morning, waiting, to see what we can do next.  I'm tired of waiting.  I'm over it.   I want to be able to tell my children where we are going to live in a couple of month.  I want to start looking for a house, and not just dreaming about a house.  I want to move on with my life.  Hopefully soon, because seriously, I can't wait.

Things I Can't Wait for

We are seriously counting down the days until my husband comes back.  I don't know his return time yet, or believe me, I would be counting down the hours, too.  We are that close.  I suppose close is relative, of course.  We do, after all, still have a tiny bit to go.  I'm willing to bet that this last bit is going to fly by.  We have a lot to do.  We have to make a new banner to put in front of the house.  I think we might wrap the door, too.  I need to get the house clean. Yikes!  That's a big one.
In the mean time, I thought I would share all the great things that come with his return, or at least some of them.

Things I am looking forward to when my husband comes home: (In no particular order)

• Sex (let's just be honest)
• Taking a shower with the bathroom door closed, and no one opening it
• Going to the bathroom to potty with the door closed.
• Sex (Come on, its been 7 months.  That deserves two mentions.)
• Having adult conversation without going out of the house to find it.
• Not being the one to do the dishes.
• Being able to go get coffee with my friends.
• Yelling "Not It!" when we both discover The Littlest One has a dirty diaper and actually having someone else do it.
• Sleeping and snuggling with someone taller than me.
• Being able to lay on his chest at night. (Man do I miss this.)
• Sex - What? I mention that already...twice...oh...well...
• Sitting on the couch, drinking a Mike's, and watching The Big Bang Theory together (one of our favorite past times).
• Pizza Sundays, when we all make pizza together. 
• Family time.  Any family time.  
• Co-parenting.  God I miss that.  
• His laugh.
• How much he makes me laugh.
• Seeing him with The Girls, and watching him be the incredible dad he is.
• Hugs

Honestly, I could go on forever.  I would start crying though, if I went on much more.  I miss him.  We all miss him.  It won't be long, though.  Really.  I can almost feel his arms around me now.  I can't wait.

The End Of The World

So, I posted a while back about it being the end of the world, as I know it.
I know that seems like a dramatic statement to make, but the truth is that our world is about to change dramatically.

Next year, My Husband will be retiring from the military.  And our world will never be the same.
I'm sad for him in some ways.  I know he wanted to stay in.  I know there are still things he would like to do, and he loves his job.  You can't ask for more than that with any career.
However, as much as I am sad for him, in some ways, I am very, very happy.

The last eleven plus years of my life have revolved around his career.  Every decision made has been affected by what he does.  Even my wedding date was changed, and our honeymoon scrapped when a catastrophe struck, and his school schedule suddenly changed.  He left me 3 months pregnant with The Big One to deploy to the middle east in support of the operation in Iraq.  He came home just before she was born, but we didn't get to live together again because of schools and things until she was 15 months old.
We have moved more times than I have fingers to count on.
My body has been corrupted by the military medical system, and I will live with that for the rest of my life.
I could go on, but suffice to say, everything in our lives has been controlled in one way or another by his occupation.
No more.
There will be no more deployments after this one.  I thank God for that.  I don't know if I could do this again.
I'm not just glad to be done with all that for me.  I'm very thankful that my children will have their father back.  No words can express how happy I am about that.
They have missed him.   We have missed him.
I don't know what he will be doing yet, or where we will be going.
Our future, for the first time, is wide open.
He can choose a new career that he hopefully will love as well.
We can live anywhere we want.
Most importantly, we can be together.
I know the next year or so will be tumultuous.  I know it will be scary and exciting.  I know it will also go by  very fast, but I look forward to it, and all the changes it will bring for us.
Wish us luck in our new lives, trying to learn to be a civilian family like the rest of the world finally.

The Only Way to Watch

My Husband, love his heart, loves to see movies.  I, though, am not a movie person.  It took me years to figure out why I dislike going to see movies so much, but I finally got it.
First, I'm cheap and movies aren't.  I thank my mom for that one, because as we grew up, she would always tell us she wouldn't pay the money to go see anything, she would rather wait until it came out on video, and that stuck.  I much prefer the little red envelopes that come in my mail box over going the movies.  For less than what it would cost my husband and I to go to the movies once a month, we get a ton of different things coming in those envelopes constantly.  There is almost always one going out, and one coming in.  Much better value.  However, if I really like something, I am willing to pay for it.  I still dislike actually going to the theatre, though, and that brings me to reason two.
I hate the sound systems in theatres because they always shake me and make me have to pee.  Yes.  It all really comes down to a hatred of needing to pee during the movie.  I have great anxiety about that.  I hate getting up in front of people. I hate public bathrooms, and I really, really hate not being able to enjoy my Coke Zero because I know it will end up making me need to pee.
So, he and I would only rarely go.  Since we have had children that low frequency has managed to decrease even more.  We only go to the movies shown on base, after they are pretty much out of theatres.  They are free, they don't have loud sound systems, and everyone gets up to go pee at some point since they are always movies meant for kids.  While I appreciate that lack of bladder shaking sound, and the fact that no one really cares if I have to get up and take them, it also amounts to a sucky movie experience, if you like the movies.

This year, it just so happens that My Husband's favorite comic book character,  and he is a super fan, has a movie coming out.  Captain America is in theatres now.  He couldn't believe they were going to make it a movie.  Then, he thought it was suck.  As more info and some pictures started to come out, and he began to realize that it wouldn't suck, his level of excitement went through the roof.  He needed to see this movie.
We are back to our movie watching hurdles, though, with my hating to go and then dealing with the kids.  I don't think The Littlest One would be very good in a theatre, and we can't leave her with a sitter just yet.
So, we found a fantastic alternative to just about every thing.
The drive in.
Yes, they still have those.
I know because we went to one.
We gathered up a ton of blankets, pillows, and my boppy just for The Littlest One, and threw them all in the trucks.  We went by Sonic and got some dinner to take with us.  Then we drove over to the drive in.
This particular place requires that big trucks like ours park in either the first four or last 4 rows.  We got there very early, and were able to get an incredible place up in the front.  I mean it was a killer spot.  The screen is huge.  We let the tail gate down, rolled the cover off the truck bed, threw all the pillows and blankets back there making a nice bed, and got the girls to climb in.  They loved it.  Unfortunately for me, the first few rows meant for trucks also have these humps built in that put you at an angle so that other people can see over your vehicle.   What this specifically meant for me was the the tail gate was now above my waist when let down, and I had to climb in.  I won't go into great detail on the spectacle I made of myself, trying to get up into the bed, but finally, with a large push in my large rear from my husband, I made it into the truck with the girls.  We got comfy and finished our dinner.  Even The Littlest One didn't mind eating al fresco since I had the boppy for her to lay on like she does at home, and I didn't make her use the nursing cover thanks to better shirt planning and the truck bed walls.
You may think that the sound out there, just coming out of the truck speakers, would sucks, but you would be wrong.  Think about how far sound systems in cars have come since the days of the first drive in theatres.  People even have Bose speakers now. Not only that, but you have every stereo there playing the sound, quite loudly.  It was actually pretty good.  In fact, I love it.  The sound had a great quality, without making me need to pee.  Perfect.
When it was time for the movie to start, he was so excited.  The Girls were, too.  Well, the big ones were.  The Littlest One was only in it for the boobs.  Furthermore, it was only The Littlest One whose excitement lasted.  The Little Big One was out with in 20 minutes, and The Big One only made it half way.  The Littlest One stayed up through most of the movie, just snacking off and on. and hanging with us.  The best thing about being in the back of the truck was that we could just let them sleep.  We got to watch the rest of the movie pretty much in peace.  I think it was by far the best movie experience we have had with them.  IF we weren't so old, and exhausted form having a newborn, we could have even stayed for the double feature while the girls slept, and been able to actually watch two movies.  Maybe next time, because there will be a next time.  I don't mind this movie outing at all.  In fact, I think it was kind of great.

The Dr Said To Stay Pregnant, But I Don't Think They Heard Him

Today, I realized that my family is trying to kill me.  Well, if they aren't trying to kill me, they are absolutely going against Dr's orders, and they are trying to make me go into labor, two weeks before I should.

Today has been a long, long day.
It started when My Husband, back from a month at a training mission, thought we all needed to get up, and get out of the house as soon as possible.  I'm tired.  I'm really pregnant, and two stores a day is about all I can muster.  We have a lot to do, though, in preparation for The Little One's birthday party, which we are going to have after all.  So, we headed out, and hit the Dollar Tree, in search of stuff for the goody bags.  The Girls were all over everything in that place.  They couldn't keep their hands off anything.  I swear it was like moths to a thousand brightly colored, plastic wrapped flames.  The worst part is always at the very end for me.  There, behind all the registers, are what looks like about 100 helium filled mylar balloons with ribbon hanging down.  The Girls always go nuts, and jump for the balloons, even though we are not about to get one.  It isn't so much the balloon jumping that is the problem, but the fact that they don't pay attention to anything else going on around them from the moment they get near the balloons, and nearly get run over by every shopper who checks out around us.  I have to grab them over and over again.  I'm surprised neither one got plowed down by the time we finally got out of there.

After that torture was finally over, we headed over to the WalMart next door, just to add a little salt to my wounds.  Walmart is often torture by itself, children or not, but taking them with you just amps up the pain level you have to endure.
As if all that hadn't been enough, we needed to hit Target, too.  No seriously, three stores, two kids, and one very pregnant momma.
When we finally got out of there, we headed to my OB's office for one of my last two checkups.  Now, if you read my blog, you probably read about the last time I took The Big One, and I thought my ears were going to bleed.  This time, though, I was so thankful that My Husband was here, to take care of them while I got to go in and actually pee int he cup by myself, and help distract them once we got in the office.  I was wrong, though.  Very wrong.  While I did get to pee by myself, he apparently thought the story of what she did to me last time was so funny, that he needed to see it for himself.  As soon as the medical assistant closed the door on the exam room, and we were by ourselves, he walked right over to the little desk, picked up a model of a Nuva Ring, and ask the girls what it was, by name.  It was intentional torture.  I thought I was going to die.  HE started pointing out all kinds of things, but they were stuck on the Nuva Ring.  They wanted to know what it was.  I indicated as nicely as I could that he was to stop, but he just couldn't stop himself.  I didn't want him to answer them, but find a way to distract them.  So, he started showing them other models and diagrams, on purpose, to see what they would say.  They were still on the Nuva Ring, though.  It kept getting louder and wilder in there.  Finally, I told him he would answer any questions that he caused himself, hoping that he would stop instigating things.  It didn't matter, though.  By that point, they were both chanting "Nuva Ring" in unison and the chant was getting louder and louder.  I know the entire staff heard my two children chanting "Nuva Ring, NUVA RING, NUVA RING" before i could get them to stop.  They had to have an answer to what it was.  They got one.  My husband my be a prankster, but when it comes to our girls, he is also a prude.  Which is why only making him answer the questions would in any way have an effect on his behavior.
He told them that was the name of the special ring lions jump though in the circus, and showed them the model, which had the clear ring standing on its side, similar to what you might actually see.
No.  Really.  He did.
I'm not sure what I was supposed to do at that point, but bad parenting or not, I left it be.  I also "indicated my displeasure" every time he started to show them something else.  If I felt like I was going to die the last time we went through this, I realize now that was nothing in comparison to what he did today.  I was actually praying under my breath for the Dr to walk in.  I've never been so thankful to be examined by a Dr in my life.
The day went on.  There was more torture.  More walking.  More of me trying not to just lay down and die in the middle of a store, but none of it can compare to what he did to me in the office.
Just wait, though.  When they go to school and tell all their friends about the Nuva Ring at the circus, I'm letting him field those phone calls.

Not His First Time At The Rodeo

Last week, we officially scheduled my c-section for The Littlest One.  I have 10 weeks until the big day at this point.

That time will fly by.  I know it will.  Compounded by the fact that my husband is currently out of town, I feel a real rush to get things done in any little bit of time we have with him.
As of right now, we have exactly nothing done.  Her room is still full of bags of clothes that I need to finish sorting and putting away from our move.  There are clothes saved for The Little One to grow into, baby clothes, some of my old clothes, and just about everything else that didn't have an immediate place during the move.

Not only do I need to empty her room, but  I really need to start filling it back up pretty quickly.  We have gotten rid of pretty much everything baby related.  The only things left for her are a rocking chair and some of the clothes I kept that were sentimental to me.  I've been putting a lot of things off, waiting for him, and I feel like I just cant' wait anymore.
So, I ask him if it was ok if I started picking things out without him.  He gave me the green light.  In fact, he gave me the go so quickly it sort of took me back.  I couldn't imagine letting him pick out everything without, but then again, that's me, not him.  As he has reminded me several times this pregnancy, this isn't his "first time at the rodeo".  I suppose its not.  Then he tells me that as much as he loves each and every child, and loves the one yet to be here very much, that things like the color of the crib or car seat don't matter to him.  The baby matters.  As long as we have things she needs, and things that are safe and appropriate, then he is fine with anything I pick.  In fact, when we discussed cribs, his only insight was that he wanted to be sure we got a safe one that met current safety standards as they recently changed.  Safe is important.  White versus cherry wood isn't.  I guess I kind of get that.

He kept telling me it isn't that he doesn't care, its just that those things don't really matter in the long run to him.  They matter much more to me.  I want every thing to be exact down to the style of crib skirt I pick to go around the bottom of the crib.  A box pleat versus ruffled would totally change the view of the room to me, but I seriously doubt he would ever notice.

I have to let go of the fact that he won't be into the details.  I seriously doubt many men truly are.  I would say I forced enough of that on him the first two times we did this anyway.  It doesn't mean he doesn't care.  It just means he is a guy who doesn't get into that.  As long as I don't force a pink diaper bag on him, I think we will be good to go with anything.  So, off to pick things I go, with or without him.  I may take The Girls with me.  I know they certainly have enough opinions to share on pretty much everything we may or may not even need.

The Fight Of The Decade

Tonight, there was a fight in my house.  A big one.  Something that has been brewing for about a decade now finally came to blows.  It didn't end well for either party.

Since the day I moved from home to be with my husband, he has loathed a furniture set that my parents gave us to use.  It is gorgeous.  All real wood, and almost an antique.  At this point, though, it needs some restoration.  We haven't done it.  Not our thing.  Yet, I can't get rid of it.  I want to give it back to my parents so that they can have it restored.  The pieces i have are the small love seat, and the side chair to match.  My mom still has the coffee table and end tables that came with it.  She actually still uses them.  Unfortunately, the rocking chair that matched passed away to the rest place for old furniture, aka the dump, last year.

As I said, My Husband hates them.  He would love to see our pieces go to that old furniture resting place as well.  I won't let him, though.  Instead, we carry them from home to home, and he loathes them a little more each time.

We just finished moving to a new house tonight with four bedrooms for the new baby.  My husband has enjoyed some of the process.  He has been able to use our old truck.  He loves his old truck.  We recently got a new one, but the old one is sitting here, waiting until my brother comes to get it.  My husband didn't want to give up that truck, but he had no choice, as it needed more work that we can afford to get done.  Thankfully, my brother is a mechanic, and he can do it himself.  My Husband at least gets to pass the beloved truck on to someone he knows will take care of it, and using that truck, even just to take things from one house to another, has really been the highlight of this whole move for him.

In the process of this move, My husband  had to move that sofa and chair yet again.  There is sits in the garage, giving him the evil eye, every time he walks in there.

Our trash dump is closed for the weekend.  So, My Husband decided to load the old truck up that he has been using for the move one last time, park it in the garage, and take everything over when the trash area opens tomorrow.

Unfortunately, the garage is full of crap, and that is a big truck.  So, I had to guide him in as backed in so that he could fit the truck.

I was doing my job, before anyone asks.  He was backing up.  I had him slow down.  I was yelling out distance increments to let him know how much room he had, in addition to motioning with my hands.
Two feet.
One foot.
Slow!
Six inches.
Stop!!

He didn't stop fast enough.
There was a crunch.
Directly behind him, right where he needed to stop, sat my beloved furniture.

He backed into it too fast, and cracked the chair back in half.

My heart dropped.

I hung my head and told him he broke it, too tired to be pissed. That, and in my heart I know he didn't do it on purpose.

He got out, all smiling, and laughed.  "I didn't mean to do it, you know."  He also let me know that he wasn't terribly upset.  The universe, though, was.  He had struck the first blow, but the furniture wasn't going down without a fight.

The truck wouldn't fit.  He adjusted the furniture, and tried again.  He still needed just a few inches to get the garage door to close.

He pulled up a couple of feet, and grabbed the chair, turned to carry it to the side of the garage, and it happened.  Another crunch.
My eyes must have been huge.  I just stood there staring.  He looked at me.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"What?"
"You broke your tail light."
"I did not."

I didn't respond, but tapped the spider web pattern in the tail light.

He looked, his face went red.  He made a fist, and  I swear he nearly hit the chair, until he realized it probably wouldn't do him any good to punch a piece of solid oak.

Tit for tat.  The chair fought back.

So, the first blows have been rendered.  I'm not sure yet of the outcome.  I do know that these won't be the last blows thrown by either party, though.

I also know that when I tell this story to my brother, who still wants the truck, it will be much less dramatic, and play down any damage that might prevent him from taking it.  After all, we need it moved as soon as possible least it be the victim of this senseless feud again.

"My Alphabet Backwards"

Have I mentioned before how different My Girls are? Night and Day is an apt description.

Their Father was playing a mean little game with them tonight. He was holding a very tasty freshly made cookie over their heads,

Finally, he told The Big One, she could have it, if she could say her alphabet backwards.
What he actually said was "You can have it, if you say 'Your alphabet backwards'". Of course, she didn't get it, and immediately began to try, slowly, to go through the alphabet.

She got stuck at "r". I just stopped her, and told her to think carefully about what her father had said. She didn't understand.

After about 10 minutes, and the 3rd time I gave up and then tried all over again to help her, I finally got her to understand.

She turns, looks at her little sister and said "Say 'your alphabet backwards'"

The Little One looked right at her, and said "alphabet backwards". Then laughed her self silly.

Oh my.

I Was Wrong

This post is dedicated to the one who was right and in honor of Father's Day, because he would love nothing more than for me to say "I'm wrong and you are right".

That wouldn't be me, though, because I was wrong.

You see, if you know me, you know that I love a bargain. I do not believe in paying full price, unless I have to, and cherish a deal. That deal shopping mentality includes my grocery shopping as well. If I have to buy something not on sale, I always look for the cheaper store brand, because I refuse to pay for a name. Store brands are generally as good as a name brand, and are usually much cheaper.

At least I thought so.

My husband loves Frosted Flakes cereal. Loves it. We just call it Daddy's cereal in our house. The Girls will actually come into the kitchen and ask me if they can have a bowl of Daddy's cereal. He loves it that much.

However, without a coupon or sale, or even better if it is a sale and coupon, that name brand cereal isn't cheap.
I buy The Girls the cheaper off brand versions for anything they ask for. My Husband, though, required the good stuff. I found that to be ridiculous. I could save over $1 a box. That would be at a minimum $2 a month, and $24 a year in cereal alone.
So, once, I bought the knock off brand and took it home without consultation. The instant he hate it, he told me it was terrible, and he hated it. I told him it was the same thing, but cheaper. He disagreed vehemently. This actually became a small point of contention for us at some point.
I couldn't believe that he could hate the knock off that much. I even thought about switching out the bags, and putting the cheap stuff in the good box to see if he still felt the same way. I never did it, and just started begrudgingly buying the expensive brand.

Yesterday, I had a break through. I realized just how wrong I had been. I bought The Girls a knock off Cinnamon square cereal. This is one of my favorite cereals, if I do ever eat cereal. Last night, I had a little of the knock off as a snack with them. It was terrible. Not only could I tell the difference, but it didn't even look right to me. Even The Big One came to tell me that it didn't taste right. I may have just been the particular knock off I had, but regardless, there was a huge difference between that and the real deal. I was floored, and a little disgusted with the cereal itself.

There was a difference. He could tell, because it was one of his favorite things, and it mattered to him.

So, to my husband, I'm sorry. I will search high and low, and stock up on the good stuff when ever I can. If, heaven forbid, there is no sale, I will just buy it for you, with a warm heart, because you deserve the good stuff if you want it.

It Was Not a Waste of a Good Cupcake

I did something that I have never done before.

I threw a cupcake at someone. More specifically, I threw a cupcake at The Husband.
To be even more specific, I threw a cupcake with bright green icing at him.

And, I hit him. In the back of the head. I would even go so far as to say I nailed him.

Even though I threw food, and did it in front of my girls, I have to say I am proud of myself. The pride comes in the fact that I actually hit him.

Now, in my defense for the bad part of my action, let me tell you that first and most importantly, I did not waste a good cupcake. I had already accidentally dropped the cupcake on the road and lost most of the icing in a big plop right in front of The Big One's school. So, I was only bringing the cupcake in to throw it away.
I walk in, carrying the rest of her loot from the class Halloween party, and the cauldron that I took bags of popcorn in.

I had no idea that I was a sitting duck. Or a walking duck.

Almost immediately after my back is to the closed door, he pops out and starts shooting me with a Nerf dart gun. This one happens to his Tommy Gun style, semi automatic Nerf gun. Not that which gun it was matters, other than to tell you he is serious about this stuff. Anyway, by the time I had gotten about 4 steps toward the kitchen, I had been hit at least a good 5 times. There was nothing I could do.

I rounded the corner and got behind the counters in hopes of waiting him out, but ever time I peeked around the corner, I got shot again.

So, there I was, trapped. I looked around me, and I saw only one option. The cupcake. Normally, I wouldn't throw food. Actually, I never throw food, and especially not good food like cupcakes. However, since this one was already inedible, it didn't count as good food anymore. I quickly considered the ramifications of my actions, including the fact that my kids were going to watch me throw food. I realized that it might not be a good idea. However, in the long run, self preservation won out.

I grabbed the cupcake and peeked around the corner. The Husband saw me. He looked at me for just a moment with total satisfaction in that he was about to shoot me again, and total disregard for the cupcake. After all, he didn't think I would do anything with it, even if I did threaten him with.

I did threaten him with it. It seemed the cupcake just wasn't a good enough threat.

He took aim.

I threw.

He looked incredulous for just a second, before turning and trying to duck. That second of disbelief took long enough to keep him from being able to get out of the way.

I nailed him, right in the back of the head. Not only did I nail him, though, but then the cupcake rolled down his head, hit his shoulder, and bounced onto his foot. I couldn't have willed it to do any better had I tried.



It was fantastic. I worried that he might be mad, but he was just shocked. I think more shocked that I hit than even the fact that I threw it, but shocked all the same.

Finally, after getting the camera, taking a great shot for proof, and calming my laughter enough to be able to control my body again, I made sure the girls saw me clean up my mess. They needed to at least see that if you make a mess like this, you have to be responsible and clean it up.

He took a shower, and we went on with our day from there with no more shooting. I think he might have been worried about the big stack of cupcakes in the fridge.

I Love My Husband

I may not say it enough to other people, or sometimes even to him, but make no mistake, I love my husband, and appreciate what a wonderful man he is. I am lucky to have such a caring and committed partner in my life.

I can't tell you the number of times he has come to my rescue, and been willing to go way beyond any call of duty to help me out.

Today, he volunteered to drive for my daughter's Girl Scout Troop. I was short driver's for tomorrow's trip. I got really stressed out today trying to beg and plead with parents to take their own kids on a field trip. We won't get into how sad it is that I can't get any parents to participate, but let me say that it absolutely upsets me. So, my husband stepped up and said that if it would make things better for me, he would drive our other car, and take a load of girls by himself. I can't imagine how horrifying the thought of driving a group of young girls by himself would be to a man like my husband, but he would do it for me if I needed him.

I tell you he is incredible. In so many ways. I won't go into it all tonight, but rest assured, I appreciate him.

I was able to finagle a way to get him out of driving girls. I still need him to help out, but this time he only has to go pickup the goods that we sold as a fundraiser and hold onto them until we get back from our other field trip. All the same, we wouldn't be able to get it all done tomorrow if it weren't for my hero.

Thank you. From the bottom of my heart. I love you, always.

First Look

My husband just saw my blog for the first time.

His only comment was "Well, the title fits."

Love you too, hon.

The Story of a Husband Not in Trouble

I found some humor in all of this, and thought you all might too.

My husband had a major test yesterday at work. The night before, He brought some things home on his little USB portable drive to put on the computer and study with. He puts the drive into the computer, and has me help him open everything up.

Much later in the evening, I get back on the computer to do a "quick check". I noticed that Photoshop had opened up and was trying to load some new images it found. I start to scroll though the images, and when I get to the top of the list, what do my wandering eyes find? Porn!! Not just any porn, but what looked like about 15 mini clips from movies!!! I was shocked! And pissed!! Now, we aren't prudes, but hiding porn on a portable drive crosses my lines. Not only that, but the stuff was loading with Lilly in the room!!

So, I immediately send Lilly out, minimize the porn, and call Chad into the room. He walks in, and I ask, "What have you been doing with your thumb drive?" He stares at me with a blank look. I respond with a look that says "confess your sins now." I ask again "What have you been doing with your thumb drive?" This time, his look changes from blank to what I can tell is a brain frantically searching for anything that he might possible have done wrong. My look only intensifies. I utter the question once final time with a tone that demands he utter something, anything.
"I have my study stuff on there. You know what I use it for. You help me put it on there." Why?" He is more than a little concerned, apparently not being able to figure out what it might possible be that he has done.

"Do you know what is on your drive?" I ask him.
"Just tell me what it is." He is probably panicking about this time.

I put my hand on the mouse, and bring the porn back onto the screen while looking at him.
His reaction was priceless. Instantly, it was a "WTF?" look that quickly and only for a second changed into a.."hubba hubba, that's porn on my computer" and went away with the immediate realization that he should not have been happy about this.

"I didn't do it." He insisted that he had no idea it was on there.

I just stared at him. It was on his thumb drive. His.

Then, my husband responds with what has to be the best response possible in this situation for him.
"Honey, you know I couldn't have done that. I don't know how to do that. I can't even put my word docs on there with out help."
Believe it or not, he was telling the truth. Now, you and I may know that it isn't really any different than using any other drive on your computer, but he doesn't realize that. He has no idea how to put things on there, and other people really do have to help him out.

Well, somebody else seemed to think they were REALLY helping him out. We narrowed it down to a couple of people. If I ever find out which one it was, you can believe we will be having a little chat.

He is not in trouble, though. He had no idea. In fact, I feel a little bad for him. He was duped a bit, and had even been using that at work. He could have gotten in serious trouble for having that at work.

So, all in all, just a funny story about me finding porn he didn't even know he had. Unless of course I find out who did it. In that case, it will goes from funny to head snapping a heart beat.
; )