Showing posts with label deployment. Show all posts
Showing posts with label deployment. Show all posts
Monday, May 9, 2011
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.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
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...
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...
Thursday, March 24, 2011
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.
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.
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.
Friday, March 18, 2011
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.
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.
Friday, February 25, 2011
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.
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.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
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.
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.
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