This really does suck you know. Sure, sure, I am supposed to be the strong military wife that we all like to imagine. The one who can handle everything that comes her way while her better half is on the other side of the world. Sounds romantic doesn't it? The strong wife keeping things afloat at home while her soldier is fighting for those less fortunate? Well... it isn't.
Today was a bad day. The kids are making me go crazy. Seriously... crazy. The older two cannot say a kind word to one another if you paid them. If she says the sky is blue he says it is a aqua hue. If he says he brushed his teeth, she pretends to pass out from the smell of his breath. If she says that she needs another bottle of acne cream, he falls over laughing and pointing at her. I was tempted to put duct tape over their mouths earlier... I would have too if I could have found the duct tape, but all I could find was Hello Kitty band-aids. They weren't even waterproof.
The 5 year old has decided to be a dog for the past few days... a dog that has just had a litter of puppies and is lactating. That is right. She lays on her side and "attaches" little stuffed puppies to her tummy and says she is feeding them. She also pretends to go potty outside when I let the "real" dog in the house out. What are the neighbors thinking? At least she isn't barking at people. My friend's daughter used to bark at me when I would say hello to her. "Hi Susie, how are you today?" "Ruff Ruff" "Nice dog Susie."
The baby is teething, which means she has a runny nose and slobbers all over everything she is wearing. I can't really complain about her though because she is a baby and that trumps anything bad that can be going on. One look at her and I melt-thank God for babies.
It does not help that I feel so disconnected from my husband. 15-20 minute phone calls every other day are just not hacking it. I mean, I am a woman who likes to speak her 25,000 allotted words a day and now I have no one to listen to my theories on why I think Angelina Jolie eats only cottage cheese and laxatives and how the speed limit should be raised 10 mph if you have to go to the bathroom really bad. I cornered the mailman the other day and started telling him a story about unclogging my son's toilet until I realized he was slowly backing away from me and trying to slide into his little square mailman car.
We have tried to IM (that is "instant message" for all of you readers out there who only come on-line to read my blog and check the weather) but he will be knocked off -line every 30 seconds or so and after I have written a small novel about life out here I will realize that it is all one-sided and he hasn't gotten any of it.
So if I start writing blogs about the water bill or what I am going to cook for dinner, just understand it is because I am in need of an outlet other than BBC's "You Are What You Eat."
I miss my husband... not just because it is lonely at night, but because I don't have anyone to listen to me talk. Oh, and because he used to hang up all of the clothes that I throw on the floor of our closet and now I can't even see the floor and I have nothing to wear. It would be nice to have the bathroom trash emptied as well... and my bedside table lamp light bulb has burned out and now I have to turn the bright 100W overhead light on... and my van needs gas.