Humbug

Holy crap, am I ever not in the mood for the holidays. If it wasn't for my husband I wouldn't even have the tree up. Hell, he decorated it, too. My poor kids. They go around trying to sing Christmas songs with me and I get as far as "deck the halls... here why don't I put on a record that sings these things to you? Yeah"  I'm ready to ruin Santa for my seven year old out of sheer laziness. Who can keep up this lie?!? "That's not Santa, that's just some guy in a suit and I'm just not sure if Santa exists because it just seems impossible." I have to commend her for being leery of old guys dressed in costumes for lap sitting. I'm kind of proud of her for that, but just as I'm about to go "Congratulations! You've seen through this sham! Your prize is a present form the present closet" In comes my husband with "Oh, those are Santa's helpers. Didn't you know that? That's how Santa gets to so many houses, he has lots of helpers. Oh, and mommy called Santa and had him deliver your presents early!" "Does Santa have the same wrapping paper as us? Because I saw that paper in your closet. Did we share it with him?" "Why, yes! We did. We wrapped presents together" Nice one honey. It'll take me years to undo that. Well, probably not. She wants to believe, but she's pretty sharp. I can tell she's ready to just call b.s., but might be afraid of a present deficiency if she does, so hey! Santa!
 I am dragging ass this year. At least I got Christmas cards out on time this year which is a definite improvement for me. Most of my cards make it sometime in the new year because I'm a timely person. Procrastinators Unite! or something sometime later.
Christmas is just a few days away and with the husband away it's going to look something like this "Oh, hey, you guys are up. Here, have a pop tart and let me fetch your stockings out of my closet" Festive. Hey, I'm wearing reindeer pajama pants, that should be festive enough.
And don't get me started on what happens after Christmas. Our anniversary, my birthday, new years. Waahahaaa! Can't I just curl up and do nothing? I want to be slacker mom, dammit! Oh, right. I am. How about neglectful mom? Dammit, I just can't win.

Ugh

This blog has been very inactive lately. Mostly because I'm lazy, but also because I like to keep things light and funny and I just haven't been feeling all that funny.
This patrol is going to suck ass. There are no two ways about it. It is what it is. For one, it's happening on the holidays, which sucks already, but the holidays also happens to be on my birthday and our anniversary which makes for some pretty depressing birthday. I'm trying to make the best of it. We did christmas for the kids before he left and there's even an FRG get together on new years eve, so I can at least have something to do on my birthday. Yes, my birthday is new years eve, and no it is not fun.
But that's not all! Oh no, not at all. My seven year old is going to have all three of her dance competitions while he's out which means me, alone, with all three kids doing that. Good times!
But the worst absolute hands down reason why this patrol sucks ass and I have zero hope for improvement is (be prepared, this is a real bummer) my older brother committed suicide this thanksgiving. Not just died, committed suicide, and it's really a hard thing to wrap my head around. I've even started another blog just for dealing with it, but I don't know if I'll publish most of those posts because I don't want to hurt family. Mostly I'm just angry at him, which doesn't make me love him or miss him an iota less, but if I aired that out to where, say, his kids can see it, it could cause some damage to them and I do love them. I think what hurts right now is knowing that if he can see all the damage he's done I can just picture his big goofily sheepish grin as he says "oops, I fucked up" yeah, you did. Big time. But that's not the blog for here.
The blog for here goes something like this "must...make it.... to the end... of this fucking patrol!" And so I shall. I'll try to write more here and keep it lighter, but we'll see how that goes.

It's the Little Things...

Yay! He's back home and words cannot express my relief. There's nothing quite like homecoming. However, now that he's been back a few weeks it's time to get back to doing those little things we do that annoy the piss out of each other. One such incident the other night he was tired and when he's tired he turns into a sort of horny Frankenstein following me all around and trying to hump me or grope me aggressively. Finally I turned around told him to knock it off and that when he's tired he gets retard aggressive *miming Frankenstein* "Must hump! Huuump!" He got mad and said "I'd never call you a retard. You're mean" Actually he may have called me a bitch for that one. Yeah, I may have deserved that. So to recap he can be irritatingly horny and I can get kind of mean when I'm out to amuse myself. I did feel bad about offending him. I was hoping he might find it as funny as I did. Who would have known he'd get all offended at being called a retard. Geesh. So sensitive.

Final Fling Fun

Haha! I'm awesome at alliteration.
I suppose I owe our commodore an apology. He must not be as full of shit as I thought. We are doing a pier side homecoming and I'm excited for it. There's just something so much more fulfilling about seeing the boat come in and wait for the one that belongs to you to come off than, say, going to the conference center and waiting on shuttle after shuttle for the one that contains yours or hanging out in your car at checkpoint charlie after your husband calls to have you pick him up like it's just any old day at work. Sort of anticlimactic. And, yes, I'm excited to wait down there with the kids and all even though I know he won't get off until nearly last and the kids are going to get antsy after a few hours of this. It's one of the downsides of being a nuke, but I'm fine with it.
We did our final fling yesterday at the beach. I think they should do more gatherings at the beach because there was a great turnout yesterday and the kids had so much fun. I talked a lot which naturally means I most likely made an ass of myself, but whatever. If I'm not out alienating everyone what fun is it? Note to self: Stop joking about the paternity of my children at these things, no matter how funny I think it is. Also religion. Stop being sacrilegious. It's the south and I'm going to get myself lynched doing that. Yes, I'm the queen of inappropriate conversations which is why I stay locked in my house for the most part. All in all, though, it was a fun time.

Stage: Bubbling Excitement

Almost there! I feel like I've been climbing up a steep sledding hill. You know the feeling? You start up the hill: "I can do this!" you think about halfway up the hill: "Uh, this is exhausting and the hill is still way up there. What was I thinking?!?" Then as you almost crest to the top that swelling feeling you get: "Ahhh! There it is! I see it!  Almost there, almost there! Just keep going!" That's where I'm at. I can see the end. There it is. Oh, and that feeling you get when you finally slide down. "Wheeee!"  Nearly the same thing. That intensely exciting feeling I get when they pull in and I see him again for the first time. I can hardly wait. Oh, and the looks on the girl's faces. Priceless. I just have to tell that voice in my head that says "hey, you get to do this all over again in a few months" to shut up. You're ruining my mental parade, jerk.

For Real? For Really Reals?

I had quite the adventure getting to the commissary yesterday and any of you who wandered onto your bases yesterday probably encountered the same thing.
I drove past the housing gate first and I was suspicious as soon as I noticed it was manned. No matter, I drove down to, let's call it the commissary gate for simplicity, and it was closed. That's odd. So down to the main gate I go, which is usually closed on Sundays. It was open and busy. Weird. I saw two different inspections going on and really really hoped they weren't going to do one on me, so when I pulled up and they asked "weapons or contraband?" I strongly resisted the urge to answer "just the biologics in the back" and point to the children. One day my smartass mouth is going to get me in trouble. I managed through without incident only to get lost. I felt pretty stupid. On the other hand I found an RV park on the water and an indoor pistol and rifle range and if I ever need to know where the weapon's facility is I can get to it. Bright side, see? I did get some odd looks from security who would drive past me and eye me suspiciously. Yes, I'm lost as hell and no I don't have weapons or contraband. I don't think.
I finally found my way to the commissary, which was really dead, and meandered in, stopped to look at the coupons and was id'd. Huh? Oh, yeah, hang on a minute here. What's going on? Oh, the base is on lock down. Well, that explains the gates, any idea why? Nope, no one knows.
I just assumed they were running drills of some sort.
I left and got id'd once more at the register. On my way out I noticed there were two different manned guard shacks through housing. Weird.
Despite all that I was really surprised when facebook exploded last night with the news "Bin Laden is dead!". Really? No way. So I looked it up and holy shit, they were right. Wow. I'm still in shock and while part of me is relieved he's been found, I'm also waiting for the other shoe to drop. That hydra is going to sprout another head or two if it hasn't already. I hope the backlash isn't too nasty. I worry about everyone and all my military friends, but I'm also selfish and I'm fairly sure this is going to really screw up homecoming. Maybe it won't. Still, wow.

Phase Melancholy or I Can't Get No Satisfaction

I'm not really sure what to call this phase, but melancholy or I can't get no satisfaction seems pretty appropriate. I've started to realize that I'm forgetting little details like how he smells or what it's like to have him home or even what his voice sounds like in person. What was it like to have him home? Haven't I always run around like a chicken with it's head cut off? You mean there was a time where I could take a shower without worrying if one of the children would be in trouble by the time I got out?  Hasn't it always been an ordeal to leave the house?
I think what makes it worse right now is we're at that special part of patrol where I don't hear from him. It's sort of like sending my emails to a brick wall and they end up reading more like a diary at this point because it's all one sided.
I'm exhausted and entirely too used to being alone which brings me to the next point. Can't get no satisfaction. I was at Starbucks drive through the other day and I could have sworn the baristo? (is that what you call the male barista? I'm confused) was making eyes at me, which is insane. I'm about 90 percent sure that it was all in my head. I'm driving a minivan full of kids, no one in their right mind would flirt with that. This brings me to the conclusion that I must be pretty hard up for it if I'm imagining things like that. This could make my errands more interesting. I see a "Quit eyeballing me, cashier!" in my future. As long as the sex dreams stay away. Please let those stay away. Good times, good times.
In the meantime I'm keeping myself as busy as I can to keep me from thinking too much. This makes me pretty tired, but if I'm tired I don't have as much time or energy to put into missing him and being lonely or, say, showering, because I really don't need to do that anyway. Who am I trying to impress? I think I'll go eat some onions now...

Nonsensical Random Rant Time

Exactly what the title says. This has nothing to do with navy life other than possibly being a neurotic nuke wife, but that's kind of stretching it.
Onto the rant. Pop music. I hate you. I hate you lots. Katy Perry, I tried to like you. I really did. Your I Kissed A Girl was kind of cute, but I couldn't sit through it more than once all the way through before my brain started to melt and now you're unavoidable. My god, if I hear Firework in passing again my head is going to inadvertently meet with the wall in an impromptu drum session. I tried to listen to Teenage Dream, the song my friends were all hot over. I couldn't do it. My brain I tell you! My brain! I'm not that smart to start with I really can't tolerate much more melting. It's sad, too, because you're funny and cute and a little perverted, but your music blows.
Most of all I can not take nonsensical lyrics. Pop music's stand by is nonsensical lyrics. The most offensive song that sticks out in my mind is Train's Drops of Jupiter. They had me right up until "Can you imagine no love, pride, deep-fried chicken" It gives me the famed Lewis Black aneurysm and all I can think about is what the fuck is deep fried chicken doing in this song? Why? WHY?!? If it weren't for my horse...
Alright, end rant. I suppose. Sorry this post is kind of silly and off topic, but freaking Katy Perry being totally unavoidable was starting to get to me...

Stage: Manic?

At this point in patrol I'm beginning to wonder if I skipped stage: mopey and went straight to stage: manic.  Everything is frustrating. There were a couple of days that I was mopey, but then I went straight to this. Four to five hours of sleep a night isn't enough and I think that makes me a bit snappy. I'm constantly having to remind myself that my three year old is only three and she's not trying to piss me off. I must remember that. This gets a bit difficult when she's crying at me for the umpteenth time in a day for not getting her way or choosing not to listen to me or dragging butt on buckling herself in, etc. She's only three and I'm not getting enough sleep. Chant this until I don't feel like screaming
I told my six year old how proud I am of her for being such an awesome big sister and helping out and always trying her best. She tells me she has to always try her best because if she doesn't I'll write a bad email to daddy. Sure, and I thought I was just doing a great job with her but nooo daddy gets all the credit.
And then there's the baby always staggering his naps with his sister's so that I can't get one, too. And he's such a momma's boy always needing to be next to me and clinging to my leg and crying if I'm too near him and not picking him up.
This is not a good recipe for mommy's sanity which made our recent trip to the beach interesting.
My best friend sent me her son's flat stanley and I thought it'd be a good idea to take him to the beach and get pictures. Three kids at the beach by myself. I really should have thought that one out. However I did get some great pictures and the girls had a pretty good time. The bad is that my three year old was less cooperative than her usual not at all cooperative self and my six year old was having such a good time she forgot to listen to me. At least the baby wasn't too bad. Oh, and I lost my glasses. I must have dropped them at the beach and I was halfway out of the park before I realized I didn't have them (I was wearing my sunglasses). I headed back and looked everywhere. No dice. Glasses gone. I was not in a good mood. There goes $200 more. Maybe I should get contacts. This patrol is starting to get costly.

Helpless Woman Discount

The exterminator went as expected given that I've never used an exterminator before.  They sent over Roy and the name, of course, sends visions of big burly rapists to this paranoid part time single mom. But so would the name Tom or, god forbid, John. It turns out to be an older mormon gentleman. We draw up the contract and work out a once a month deal. While I'm signing papers he notices that I'm right handed and mentions how that's a good thing. I'm naturally confused so I ask why's that? And he says something about how left handed women are cukoo. On his way out I said something about mormons having lots of kids. He told me had 9. 
The next day he calls me up. It turns out he wasn't really a salesman, but a manager and his price for my yard was waaaaay off. Taking care of the fire ants in my yard wasn't going to be $350 it was going to be $1600. Nevermind. I don't like it that much outside anyway. He said he was really sorry and he told me how to get rid of them and what stuff to buy.
Lucky for me I have helpless woman discount working in my favor. The exterminator came by the next day and while treating the outside of the house he took care of my widdows at no extra charge (those are supposed to be extra) and instead of laying down the 5lbs of granules for the ants he was supposed to (and that's what he wrote on his sheet) he actually laid down 20lbs treating 15ft past our swing set. Thank you thank you thank you thank you!
While I'm very grateful for the helpless woman discount, also boo to being a helpless woman. He came back from outside and said "Wow, lady. You have got some spiders!" "Yeah, I know! Did you see the giant one about THIS big" "Are you sure it wasn't this big?" Ugh, yes I'm sure. Do you want the picture?
Oh, and I had to take our van in to get serviced. Three kids to the dealership. Whee! While I was there I asked about getting another pair of headphones for the dvd systems. Lifesaver, by the way. They keep so quiet while watching a movie back there. Anyway, headphones are $120 dollars he finds out. Then he sort of whispers "hey go to this place. They can get it for you for cheaper." and writes down a local place's name and phone number for me. Yay, helpless woman discount.

Shit Always Goes Wrong During Deployment

Seriously, it does. It's like an extension of murphy's law for us military folk. Last patrol, at the height of a summer heat wave, our ac went out. We just bought our house and have lived in military housing for the previous ten years. We've never had to deal with home ownership issues. First thing I do is call up some ac repair places. Obviously, right? Wrong. While trying to track down some info on my ac I contacted our real estate agent who informed me our home warranty covers that. Oh, right. That little snafu would have cost us $1500 if my real estate agent would have left me to my own devices.
Here we are. Patrol two in our brand new area. Husband has only been gone a couple of weeks. Already I have been to the doctor four times and I'm about to go again hauling all three kids in tow because I'm a glutton for punishment. They are seriously going to start thinking I like it there.
Even that isn't that bad, but now I get to deal with a whole new aspect of home ownership. Pest control. Holy hell, I hate bugs. I hate southeast bugs the most. For a couple of weeks before my husband went out I had been catching these little harmless looking bugs on my kitchen sink. Thinking they're just some odd harmless thing that's attracted to some damage on our counters my husband promises to fix the counters when he gets back. Cut to a few nights ago. They got bigger. I can tell what they're supposed to be now. Roaches. Mother. Effing. Roaches. German roaches to be accurate. They're still small, but I can see it. I found these at midnight as I was going to bed and flipped out on my kitchen inspecting all my food looking for what they're after and where they're coming from. Luckily they aren't anywhere near my food yet, just my sink still. I have a crack in the caulking between the backsplash and the counter and they are hiding out there. So i bleach it, poison it, and duct tape it up. Some nice diy pest control there. And now I have pest control coming out today to spary it now and every month for the next year at least. This should take care of all my bug problems in my house including the spiders, occasional ants, and whatever those gnat things are that occasionaly invade only my bathroom for some reason. And, what the hell, I'll get the yard taken care of, too. I have this beautiful yard that I'm too terrified to use. Thank you tarantula sized spider on my porch that dug a hole in the ground to get away from my valkeryie war cry as I went at it with a rake. I'm sure the neighbors were entertained and confused. They'll take care of the fire ants and my widdows, too. Did you know there's more than one kind of widdow? I didn't before I moved here. Now I have all three species all over my effing yard. "Mommy, can we go outside to play?" "Umm, why don't you clean up your toys instead?"  I'm also known to redirect with schoolwork. "Outside? How about we do flash cards?" and of course every mom's best friend, tv. "Hey look! A movie!" I know, I know. I'm a terrible mom.
All in all I'm paying $300 to set up murdering those bastard bugs plus $30 every month to get them to spray the house. I already checked. My warranty doesn't cover pests. Damm.
And now my gutters are all full of leaves thanks to the recent winds that came through and my husband has specifically forbid me from taking care of it myself which probably gets some of your feminist panties in a knot, but keep in mind he only did that because he's terribly and rightfully worried about my safety. I'm something of a klutz. Okay, a lot of a klutz. Some part of my brain analyzes risky siutation and decides "fuck it, do it anyway. You'll be aight. It'll only hurt a little you pussy" I know my self talk is really positive stuff like the kind of poetry you find in sweet greeting cards to your crusty sailor mother. The point is, and those who know me best agree wholeheartedly, I really shouldn't be doing that. However those leaves need to come out before rain season starts and I have a whole new home ownership problem to deal with on my own which creates something of a conundrum. I suppose they'll be okay for a few months.
Blah, effing patrol. It's only been a couple of weeks and it already feels like forever. It's pretty depressing to write my emails and look at the number 17 and know there will be a number 90 and so on. But that's a depressing blog for another time. Right now I have to go do some self punishment at the doctor's.

Update

Just wanted to make a quick little update. The phone tree is fine. My worries were unfounded. As soon as I brought it up to the ombudsman she cleared it up, got the correct number in the tree (they had my husband's number), and I received my first phone tree message without incident and apologies. I am much relieved. I must remember, this isn't our last boat and things are going much smoother than they did before.

I'm Commited Now

I don't know why but this patrol I'm going to attend the FRG meetings. It is pretty odd to sit there and have awkward conversation with the ladies, but maybe if I stick with it it won't be so weird. For the most part they're friendly, but it's me that's wary. I'm constantly screening what I say in my head for offensive content and still something offensive will occasionally slip out, so I want to reiterate, it isn't their fault I'm awkward. That's me. I don't know how to start a conversation without saying something sarcastic or using my caustic sense of humor which will get me into trouble if I let it out.
On that note I did attend another FRG meeting. I didn't end up at the Wayne Manor, like I expected, but my six year old daughter did declare upon exiting our van that their house was waaay nicer than ours. Thanks sweetie.
Getting through the gate was an adventure and, apparently, I wasn't the only one. At first I overshot the little box I was supposed to scroll through, so I flipped around to get behind a couple of other cars. The car that was right behind me was headed to the same place and she could not get the thing to work, so the car behind her let her in and therefore, me. So I slipped in and there were lots of stories going around about how they got through the gate. The house was really nice. I found it after Tom Tom tried to take me to someone else's house on another street entirely. Stupid Tom Tom is out to get me.
My girls had lots of fun playing with the other kids. There was a room for the littler kids which is where my three year went and my six year old went with the older kids. That was nice. I just sort of hung out for awhile and tried not to be too obtrusive and wondered if they thought I was being rude by not jumping into a conversation when I was really worried it'd be rude if I did jump in. Or rather I was worried I'd say something offensive if I did or wouldn't be heard at all which is almost worse. A few of the ladies wanted to play with and make faces at my baby. He's so cute, but he would not be my performing monkey. "I'll bet he has a really nice smile" one would say. Yes, he does, but he'd rather stare at you. Sorry.
After awhile a couple of wives I know showed up and it made everything so much better. Finally I had people I could talk to.
Then it was card making time. One of the chief's son's was injured and they were having the kids make get well cards, but my girls didn't understand this concept. So while the card says "get well soon" it was made for daddy and plastered with pictures of them with daddy and "i love you" "I miss you". My six year old said she didn't know Marcus, so she didn't want to make him a card. Fair enough I suppose. I did try to explain that they would be making get well cards for someone who wasn't well before we got there. No matter.
Then the meeting started and it became obvious pretty quickly that there were the wives with kids and without. The withouts wanted to have nice get togethers where we dress up or go line dancing at a country bar. The withs were mostly opposed to this. Like me a lot of the withs don't have sitters and want babysitting at the events and meetings. I just sat back and waited to see how this would play out. Okay, maybe I made a smartass remark or two about how nice my dress would look with my baby carrier ensemble or how my pregnant friend could just bull ride the baby out. I don't think the withouts appreciated my remarks.
As I tried to leave the meeting I decided that maybe Tom Tom knew a better way out. Stupid me. Tom Tom took me to three dead end dark streets devoid of housing or anyone nearby who could hear me scream. I swear that thing is trying to get me robbed, raped, or murdered. "You have arrived at the site of your robbery. Please lock all doors and call the authorities when we are through" Stupid Tom Tom.
I did manage to get back out of there and get home, so I would call this last meeting a success.

The Adventure Begins...Again.

We've only just begun and already I'm annoyed. It usually takes a little longer for that to happen.

First the standard email telling us about email procedures. It's the standard stuff, please don't send your guy a dear john email or tell him about his dead grandma or send other bad news. Your email can be flagged and read (I try to include juicy stuff for the possible extra readers. I'm nice like that), no more than 350 words. Wait, what? Since when? That's like a freaking status update on facebook. So I went and copied and pasted my last email, which wasn't more than a page, into works and came up with, dun dun duuun over 1000 words. Awesome.  I know, I know. I 'm excessively wordy, but my husband actually wants my email to be long because it reads more like a conversation and it makes him feel more like he's here. He likes the detail. I'm probably going to get blasted for this, but I think I'm going to ignore the 350 word limit. Yeah, we used to get much less than that when we relied solely on the ten 50 word family grams. Anyone remember those? But I don't feel like going backward and I'm pretty sure my husband would be ticked if I suddenly cut what I write. We'll see how this plays out.

Next I get the email for the next FRG meeting and it reads like directions to the effing batcave. I'm sure I'm exaggerating, but I only just got my driver's license a year ago and did not drive before that. It is my firm belief that people like me really shouldn't drive. I'm clumsy on my feet, driving is worrisome. It reads like this "go to blah blah subdivision, make right into blah blah subdivision (a sub sub division? I don't know) go to gate, scroll through blah A call blah to open the gate, go through gate, go to this street, make right." I think I'll end up at Wayne Manor at the end.

Finally I got an email from the ombudsman referring to the test phone message. Guess who didn't get called? Great. I'm going to have another one those patrols where I'm constantly in someone's blind spot. I'm trying to be positive. This isn't our last boat, perhaps this will work the way it's supposed to and I'll get all my messages from here on out once I notify the ombudsman.


On the plus side I have gotten emails, which is awesome. I haven't even had a chance to miss him yet and I've got emails. On our last boat I was lucky to get ten quick emails, last patrol I got an email nearly every day for a couple of weeks which was more than I'd ever gotten before and this time, we already have it. I feel very lucky. I know, the system could go down, they won't email for awhile during some periods. I expect that, but I'm pretty happy with the back and forth communication so far.

Denial

I did the big drop off this morning and I have entered the first phase of deployment. Denial. He's not really gone. He'll be home in a few hours to rescue me from the children so I can get a shower. Yeah.
 A few hours later another guy from his division drops his ring off. Ugh. I don't want it! get it away from me!
 The significance of the ring is whenever he goes underway he leaves me his ring because he's a nuke and does a lot of maintenance so he can't wear it most of the time anyway. I put it on my necklace and wear it until he gets back, but I usually, somewhat intentionally, forget to get it from him. If I don't have it he'll be home. Now there it is, a hanging weight on my neck making me look like a lord of the rings fangirl. One ring to rule them all!
Still I've got it in my head that he'll come back, but even if he does I don't want him to. If he pulls back in it means he'll have to go right back out. We went through this a lot on our last boat and it really made me hate yo yo's. Just made me want to mutter "fuck you" in the toy department and that can't be healthy. Not to mention the dirty looks from other moms.
So here I am eating my gourmet frozen dinner, watching some crappy TV, and writing. Again.
Look in the next couple of weeks for the next phase: Mopey.

Corporate Retreat

I've started calling it Corporate Retreat in the hopes that maybe I'll feel more civilian.
Nope, still hate it. My husband suggested taking out a 'forcible loan' from the bank but I told him that would put him on a 'federal retreat' if he was caught. Talking in bureaucrat language is kind of fun.
At any rate, my husband is now on, uh, his ocean retreat getaway. Yeah. And I'm on a sanity vacation. Woo hoo! Where's the bell tower?
I'm actually considering doing the Secret Pal this patrol. That's where the FRG connects you with another spouse and you send each other gifts and cards every couple of weeks and at the end of patrol you go to a little party for the reveal, though I'm not sure I understand the secret since they give you the other person's address and they, likewise, have yours. Maybe I'm missing something. Anyway, it would get me more involved with other wives and I'd get nice little things every couple of weeks. On the other hand it would give me new and exciting ways to alienate myself from even more people. Yeah, yeah. Maybe I'll make a friend, but let's be real, that isn't likely. I'm just too odd.
Speaking of which my husband and I went out to lunch with one of the other guys in his division and his french wife. It actually went pretty well even though I have three little ones and she's pregnant with her first. I thought we got along nicely. Well, until my husband pulls out this little gem "kids are like dogs. We should keep them in cages" He was half kidding half serious. Ugh, dammit. As if I didn't have enough problems keeping my own stupid mouth from spouting weird things off here comes my husband. I haven't heard from her since even with the promise off all our baby stuff. Ah, well.
Due to my current sanity vacation I suspect my posts are about to become more frequent and incoherent. For that I apologize in advance.

FRG Fun

I went to an FRG meeting. Yay me! And I think I only inadvertently insulted one wife. That's not too bad.

My social awkwardness really makes going to these a, well, awkward chore. I know they need the support and I want to help out, I honestly do, but the whole climate just highlights all my antisocial habits. For example at the beginning of the meeting we go around and say who we are I was the third to go in front of me was the ombudsman and the captain's wife, who introduced themselves as such. It took a lot to bite my tongue and not say, "I'm Jennifer and I'm nobody" not in a depressed way or anything. More of a there-is-no-title-here sort of way. I just stopped at "Jennifer" just so there could be no misinterpretation and following "how are you feeling" sort of questions. I was actually kind of proud of myself for holding my tongue there. I was not as successful when the captain asked if we'd heard any rumors and I just couldn't stop myself from saying "got any good ones?" Ugh, I'm like a bad Ben Stiller movie. Maybe that's why I can't watch Meet The Parents all the way through.
Finally we get to the end of the meeting and I'm wearing my seven month old in my moby like wrap (it's actually an anaju wrap http://www.3treedesign.com/baby-carriers/. I love it) and a new mom with her three month old asks me about it and I tell her how awesome it is because it distributes the weight evenly across my back so I can carry him like that for a long time, but it takes some learning to learn how to wrap and it takes a few minutes to do it. Then I asked her how old her son was and commented on how tiny he is. Keep in mind my seven month old is a most of 25 pound monster. And she says "he's not tiny, he's big" So I backpedal and say "Oh, I'm just saying that because I carry this around all day" then she says "Oh, he's not big" and then she just walks away. Instinctively I went to follow before I stopped myself and realized she was probably trying to get away from me. Ah, to be a sensitive new mom. I remember those days, so I'm not too insulted.
After that I went to collect my girls, but they wanted to play with the other kids some more, so I let them and attempted to help with the single sailor bags. That's where we get an elementary school class to decorate some lunch sacks and we fill them with candy we brought. So I'm distributing candy and I see one that says "Thank you for all that you do. Pleez com bak in one pece" which I thought was really funny so I point it out to another wife who sort of ignored me or didn't hear me, could go either way. Then someone else pointed it out and everyone thought it was funny. Maybe I need to speak clearer, I don't know. In any case I'm definitely going now.
At least my girls had fun. I'll probably keep going to these as long as there is a babysitter just because they enjoy it so much.

Eff You Predeployment Night

I got back from my christmas vacation and finally sat down to read through my emails only to discover predeployment night is in two days. Which is right about the time I started cursing at my computer and having a blue streak laced tantrum.


My first thought, lets skip this crap. Second thought, ugh, I should go and interact with some wives. No wait, that's stupid. Did I forget I'm anitsocial? Only to find out from my husband the next day that it is mandatory and one of us has to show. Ooh goody. Mandatory fun.


We show, husband takes children to the ill concieved "free babysitting" room. Let me explain this one. Last predeployment night there was also "free babysitting" which was a couple of single guys in a room with a tv and no crayons, and the occasionly escaping toddler. My husband, not feeling at all confident in the child care experience available, elected to stay behind to watch children. It was the same this time, only without the tv and dry erase markers and candy. I saw a three year old at the end of this whose face was painted in these markers. Next time we have vowed to control this thing ourselves. We will have crayons and paper at the very least.


Enough about the babysitting, though. They offer free pizza. Ooh free pizza! Until you find out it's Dominos every damm time. It's the sort of pizza that you look at and get indigestion from. I've made this mistake twice and refused to make it again this time. My husband, however, ate a piece while frowning at it. Also a roomful of warm pop to wash it down. Who ordered the chemical warfare to go? Thanks, I'll have a water. Less likely I'll burn out my sinuses if I burp that up.


Onto the actual meeting. My goodness, the speakers this time! Geesh. First of all the Comodor. Yeah, I don't know wtf a comodor is, either, so don't feel too bad. Everytime anyone referred to him I thought "comodor 64 is really neato/ what kind of chip you got in there? a dorrito?" Weird Al referance for any of you not nerdy enough to catch it. Anyway, he's some big wig and he was really big on laying it on thick. Everytime he talked I felt this warm breeze under my seat which I attribuated to all the smoke he was blowing up my ass. Yeah yeah yeah, you want to make us feel all nice and important to big Navy. Shove off this isn't my first patrol.


Next up, American Cross guy. He seems alright and maybe even funny, but you're here to tell me about all the red tape around the amcross messages and how to send them, please don't tell me all about the importance of preparedness and how buckling up the children is important and turning in all the pot handles on the stove is important. I mean while we're at it why don't we also lecture about how the trunk is an unacceptable receptacle for children and don't start your hair on fire. Also pouring boiling oil on your face is a stupid idea. I scoff, but maybe there were families that needed to hear about that. It does not make me feel at all that confident about my current location.


Next up NCIS. Really? NCIS has to talk to us now? What the hell for? Oooh, facebook bad. Right. Facebook facebook facebook facebook. Privacy facebook. Confisicate your stuff take you to jail. Usually they just have the COB or Captain try to scare us, this time they brought out the big guns. I sure hope these first timers didn't pee their pants over that.



After that it pretty much goes as it alwasy does. COB says, "information private. Respect it! respect it" Also, boat won battle E, big BZ to your spouse. Uh, sure, whatever. Does this get us a free day? No? Then I don't care. I'm being harsh I suppose. I'm already all annoyed at being reminded that a patrol is upcoming. And then a big emphasis on how schedules can change and there was a boat recently that went 22 days over. Everyone ooohs. Except me. This was pretty typical on our last boat. In fact rare was the patrol that came in as scheduled. I'm begining to feel a little better about our boat and our area if 22 days is a big deal. Unexpected morale boost, yay! Then him, the ombudsman, the comodor, and the fleet and family speaker go on about making sure you see your spouse's predeployment checklist. Alright, alright. So I bring it up with my husband later only to discover that they were made to turn those in weeks ago. Nice. Now they're just trying to annoy me.



Meeting ends, everyone clusterfucks it out of there. Big en masse crowd trying to get out of this tiny conferance area. I don't even think Iactually fit in the seats. I'm in the second row and it takes me five minutes to move from my seat. It's worse than a dammed airplane. Is there something wrong with the chappel that we aren't doing it there? The Red Cross guy left these neat little tubes on the stage, but not enough. Some hand grabbed the last one just before I could. Just more fuel for my annoyance. Finally push my way out of there and go to retrieve my husband and children and peel other people's children off my husband so we can get the hell out of there. I see my three year old take a drink of water and go to grab it, then I see someone else's three year old also drink out of it. Awesome, sick time at our house again.



Finally, WE MAKE IT OUT! YAY! Where I procede to tell my husband about the meeting. His favorite part was about the comodor, so he goes to work the next day tells everyone about what I said about the comodor.



This wouldn't be so bad if it wasn't for the previous two incidents I've had on the boat. The first being my first picnic on this boat. We talked to another guy in the division. I thought his speech sounded odd, so after the picnic I ask my husband if he has some sort of dissability where my husband proceedes to laugh his ass off. Really. I had him tearing up over this one. After he calmed down he told me that he was actually puerto rican and english was a second language. Also he's going to tell him what I said. Great, I guess this will be the first person on the boat I won't be able to make eye contact with.



Second incident, our second picnic. I'm seven months pregnant and obvious. They're raffling off some liquor. One of the shipmates goes around asking around if you've filled out the raffle. He asks me and I smart assedly say "Oh yeah, I'm drinking for two now" only I think he took me seriously. Meet the second person I can't make eye contact with.

Luckily I'll probably never have to interact with the comodor again and explain myself. Hopefully.