I wanna be a party DIVA when I grow up…

Here’s the deal.  I love parties.  I love planning get togethers with friends. I get giddy when anyone mentions, “game night”.  And for gosh sakes, don’t let me hear the words “first birthday”.  I started planning my son’s first birthday in April of 2013.  He was five months old.

And, I rocked the shit out that fucking Hungry Caterpillar.  HA!  I don’t believe that there is any way possible for me to top that one but, I continue to try.  There was a candy bar. There was a milk and cookie bar. There was a bar full of bar-b-que  with all the sides.  Handmade everything.  All the way down to the PB&J lunch bags for the kiddos.

For my older sons’ 9th and 10th birthday, I did a Minecraft theme.  Down to the hand cut, pink, pixelated pig for Pin the Tail on the Pig. I had a blast hand making the Creeper invitations.  It was absolutely perfect.

I love party planning.  The organization, the themed decorations, the food.  There is nothing like seeing the look of happiness on children and adult faces alike when they see a bean bag toss and a piñata. Add some prizes in there? You are a forever favorite. That look is almost an addiction.

With all that being said,` I think that it may be time to go one step farther with my love of things tulle and ribbon. My infatuation with cakes, centerpieces and love of great party foods has led me here.

So, it’s with great pride and excitement that I am sharing with you that I am starting my very own event planning business.  And, I’m inviting YOU along for the ride.  It’s going to be new. It’s going to be challenging.  And overall, it’s going to be a fucking blast.

Stay tuned for more on my new adventure.  I can’t wait to share the journey with you.



Well, she LOOKS normal…

Tonight, I am going to take a chance and turn this blog into a complete confessional. Now, don’t get too excited. I don’t have any real deep, dark secrets to spill.

Tonight, I am going to give everyone a look into what it’s like to live with bi-polar disorder, anxiety disorder, panic attacks and my good friend, depression. Quite the mash up there, isn’t it?  But, please let me start by making sure that everyone knows that no matter what I tell you about living with these disorders, I am not suicidal or homicidal. I do not want to hurt myself or anyone else around me.  I have a mental illness.  I am NOT crazy.

Tonight, what I want to do is to tell you what it feels like FOR ME.  I don’t mean the symptoms that you will find in an online article or some medical journal. This is what MY disorders feel like. I don’t presume to speak for anyone else that may suffer from one or more of the aforementioned.

Where to begin?

I come from a long line of mental health cases. My father is an alcoholic (as am I) and suffers from diagnosed depression. My mother comes from a home with an abusive mother. Mentally and physically. Although I don’t know of any clinical diagnoses that she (my mother) may have, I honestly believe that there are some. I have one brother that is bi-polar (diagnosed) and from what I can tell, possibly schizophrenic, ODD and severe anger issues. He was hospitalized at the age of 7 for ADD.

Now that you have a brief history of what I am working with genetically, let’s get started.

My depression.  I start here because this has been the most prevalent of my diagnosis throughout my adult life. It was well managed with medication for the majority of the time but let’s face it, at times I thought that I was Superwoman and that I could come off the meds and still be okay.  Wrong answer there, slick. My depression is sneaky. Most of the time I can identify the symptoms and take ahold of the sadness, the moodiness, the loneliness. Other times. I find myself caught up so much in the self pity that I overlook the obvious.  The wishing that I would not wake up in the morning. The ignoring of the needs of not only myself but my family. I neglect the things that I know need to get done.  I cry for what seems to be no reason. I yell at my kids for no good reason. Why?  Fuck if I know.  I am sad and  want acknowledgement? Maybe. I go silent. I get angry. Which leads me to the even more fun part… mania.

I never had manic episodes before the last few years. I don’t know what changed for me chemically (in my brain) since everything else in my life has remained relatively the same. In fact, I was actually diagnosed as manic depressive in 2003. But, after seeing other doctors and each one saying that it didn’t make sense to classify me as “manic” since I didn’t have manic periods.  Ever. I didn’t get aggressive. I didn’t go on shopping sprees. I wasn’t out there sleeping around because of an episode. All the tell tale signs just weren’t there. At least until 2009. I began seeing a psychiatrist when I was released from a 22 day stint in rehab. I remember talking to him and telling him of my previous diagnosis. I remember asking him jokingly about my “OCD” with cleaning.  As funny as it was at the time, his answer was, “Do you think that your kids are going to die if you don’t clean the counter every second of every day?”  Well no, of course not. That’s just ridiculous. He told me that we should revisit the cleaning if that every popped into my head but for now, consider it exercise.  Funny guy, right?  Little did I know that something as simple as cleaning could be the beginning of something bigger. My friends and I joke about my “OCD”, my love of bleach and my organization. But, he and I both should have delved just a bit deeper. Now, my “exercise” as he called it, is triggered by my depression which is triggered by something not being in it’s place which is triggered by aggravation with daily life.  If I can’t clean, I can’t relax. If I can’t relax, there is nothing for me but to be sad. Or angry. And that can sometimes mean not only screaming at anyone around me but, I throw things. I break things. I wish that I had the nerve and the gun to just end it all. (Trust, when it has gotten THIS far, I have trained myself to reign it in.) It truly is a vicious cycle. And it hurts. Mentally and physically.  Manic episodes are also exhausting. My body shuts down. I can’t eat. I feel guilt. I feel regret. But, most of all I ask over and over why the fuck it had to be me that deals with this.

Now, to bring in the anxiety and panic attacks. These are completely new to me.  I once had a panic attack.  ONCE in 2005. I was driving with my newborn in the car and out of the blue, I couldn’t breathe. All that I could see was having an accident and not being able to save my son. It was like a video on repeat. I began to sweat and within minutes, had to pull off the interstate to calm myself. And never had another one.  Until a year or so ago.  But, my panics always come in phases. And, they always start as anxiety. Anxiety over something as small as not having anything thawed for dinner and what am I going to do? It starts in my stomach. Like an ulcer or just an aching feeling.  Then, depending on my frame of mind, it moves into my chest. Breathing gets harder and sometimes I sweat. By this time, I know that something has to give because the next step is the BEST! And, the strangest by my accounts.  The feeling from my stomach to my chest moves into my teeth.  Yes, my TEETH. They ache and within a few minutes, I am so panicked that I can’t breathe at all. My stomach is telling me to vomit. My heart is beating out of my chest. It’s a feeling that I don’t wish on anyone. It’s debilitating and trying to explain it at that moment is futile. I can’t put into words WHY I need to get out of wherever I am when it happens. I can’t even tell you what brings it on. It’s miserable and tiring. Not just to me. I can’t even imagine what it’s like to be on the receiving end of all of my shit. I want to run away. I want to leave my family. And at that moment, I know that if I did it would most likely be the best scenario for everyone.

So, I left quite a few no, MANY things out tonight.  Maybe I will touch on them later but, for now THIS is what I needed to get out there.  I need not only my husband and my boys to know that I adore them but also, my friends to know that I CHERISH them, to know that I LOVE them and I sometimes can’t help the way that I am. All that I can do is try to keep ahead of my issues and tell them that I APPRECIATE YOU. And promise that I try every single day to smile and go forward.  It’s not easy. I’m not easy. But, although it has taken me a long time to realize it, I am WORTH IT.

And, so are you.  You are so, so worth it.

…grant me the serenity to accept the things that I cannot change. The power to change the things that I can and the WISDOM to know the difference.





Creative Anti valentine's day Images Facebook Timeline cover8


After being heartbroken, angry and humiliated for thinking this “special” day would be different and MAYBE, just maybe…

I won’t be acknowledging February 14th as anything other than just another day from this point on for my family.  Yesterday, I was angry.  Now?  Not so much.  I’m actually sad. Sad that people that I love won’t get the acknowledgment or goodies any longer (from me) when they see everyone else getting them.

If you are reading this and even if you don’t care about this one day, someone in your life does.  And it stinks to not even hear a “thank you” when you tried so hard to make people smile.

Everyone preaches that it’s the little things that matter.  I’m believing that less and less every day that I am on this planet.

Be good to who you love.  Show them. They may be gone before you know it and this one trivial day may mean the world to them.


Croup, Crotches & Cupcakes. Just another day, yo.

Today has been a day.  Wow. I never thought that I would see such a personality change in Jasper since beginning the steroids for his croup yesterday. I sat and contemplated on giving them to him for a whole day before I actually picked up the prescription.

Never again.  This kid and his happy-go-lucky, loving and funny self went out the window today. Hitting, throwing toys at his brother’s head (he’s a pretty good shot, btw) so hard that I am surprised I wasn’t at the ER. Oh, and lest I forget wailing on Evans’ crotch making enough contact to make him hit the floor.  On a good note, at least he’s eating and no temp today. Yay?

But now, he sleeps.  On the couch. Covered with a beach towel. And here I sit, scared shitless to move him for fear of another 2am wake up call. But, that’s a whole other story. Second 2am-er in a row. Fun times, my friends.  Fun, fucking times.

It’s Watson’s duty day so, he’s on the ship tonight. I just finished watching 20/20 where Dylan Klebold’s mom was speaking out for the first time. The entire hour, I was just amazed at how ignorant and insincere this woman seemed. Nothing was ever her fault. She never saw signs of problems. She knew his friends. She never let him hang out with kids whose parents she didn’t know. Yada, yada, yada.  It’s called “denial” lady. Almost twenty years later and still not facing any responsibility.

You know, that’s most of the issue with people.  Responsibility.  When I was in rehab, that was the first thing that was impressed upon us.  Own. Your. Shit. The world would be a lot more user friendly if people could just own their shit. Simple concept. Learn it. Live it.

Thinking that I should probably close this up for now. Im about to fall asleep and even though I have so many things that I want to chat you fine people up about, I fear that at this point I would be forcing each word.  And being that is not what a blog should be, I shall take my leave.  Happy trails and filthy dreams…M



I am Melody. I am 40.

So, months and months ago I made a list of 40 things that I wanted to do before my 40th birthday. (September 12) The list is made up road trips, haunted places, meeting celebrities, eating delicious and artery stopping foods.  Only recently have I come to the conclusion that many of the things on my list are more than a bit far reaching.

When this list was made, I had 150% intention of completing it.  Then, the Navy stepped in and told me that my husband would be deployed for 3/4 of 2016.  Cool.  Always a good time.  But, this creates an enormous issue when you take into account well… I have children to take care of.  Damn heathen children.  😉

So, I have made the decision that I am going to AMEND my 40 Before 40 list so that I can do things that I want to do but, are able to accomplish them without the aid of a babysitter or the hubs. So, now seems to be as good a time as any to invite everyone on my journey to the big 4-0.

  1. Stay at the Clown Motel in Tonopah, NV.
  2. Winchester Mystery House.  I need not explain further.
  3. Give $40 in an envelope to a stranger and tell them that our transaction was over and to never contact me again.
  4. Girls Only sleepover. Yes, there will be the cheese factor.  Julia Roberts, manicures, facials.
  5. Fanny packs.  Huntington Beach. Is it necessary that I explain further?
  6. 40th Birthday Cake Smash session.
  7. Fun, Fabulous & 40 photo shoot with all my girls.
  8. Stay at the “Hotel Cortez”.
  9. Eat at Pink’s Hot Dogs, Roscoe’s Chicken & Waffles and White Castle all in the same day.
  10. Go camping.  Like, without a fireplace and hot tub.
  11. 40 hour trip to Vegas.
  12. Cotton ball someone’s car.
  13. Allow myself ONE DAY to wallow in the fact that I am no longer in my 30’s and ask everyone to do everything for me. Because I am just. So. Sad.
  14. Get a “4-0” tattoo to commemorate the “Big Day”.
  15. I want to do one of those art and wine things with my friends.
  16. Celebrate my 7th year of sobriety with a margarita.  JUST KIDDING.  Go to an AA meeting. Shake 40 peoples’ hands and tell them a brief story of my journey.
  17. Send 40 handwritten letters to 40 of my friends.
  18. Volunteer at a soup kitchen or women’s shelter. Then, make it a part of life to give back to people.
  19. Road trip to San Francisco to see the Golden Gate Bridge and to ride the boat to Alcatraz.
  20. Save $1k to fund my 40th birthday, solo Hawaiian vacation.
  21. Organize another Western Eagle food box drive and feed 40 families.
  22. Go horseback riding.
  23. Stand on the median with a “It’s my 40th birthday, my husband is deployed and I need a bob job. Please give me money” sign and bucket for donations.
  24. Ride on a motorcycle.  Don’t laugh.  This is a HUGE fear of mine.
  25. Go to the animal shelter and read to the dogs.
  26. Plant a tree in honor of “the big 4-0”.
  27. Take a Saturday morning road trip with the men-children for breakfast at Cracker Barrel.
  28. Make 40 care kits for the homeless and pass them out as needed.
  29. Pet rocks.  Make that shit happen.
  30. Pay $40 extra on my light bill every month.
  31. Write my husband 40 letters in 40 days during this deployment.
  32. Plant 40 mini rose bushes around my home to remind me of military members that we have lost.
  33. Walk 40 miles. NOT concurrently.
  34. Write in my neglected journal at least 40 times.
  35. Meet Dr. Dre. Hey, fuck off. It could happen.  And, if anyone has connections… help a sista out.
  36. Take all of the photographs that I have printed over the years and put them all into photo albums.  Letting go of my OCD tendencies and just getting them in the albums. No order. No rhyme. No reason.
  37. Get 40 people to read this blog and to share it on their pages.
  38. Write each of the men-children letters. Enough said.
  39. Send my husband a themed care package each month that he is deployed.
  40. Wow.  And that’s that. Now, I need suggestions for the big one.  The very last thing on my 40 Before 40 list.  GO!


Today has not been an easy day.  I mean, who the fuck am I kidding?  No day is ever an “easy” day around here.  But, and I am sure that you all can relate to this, some days are a hell of a lot harder than others.

I am so exhausted of being an “only” parent already on this turn at sea duty for my husband.  It’s not his fault.  It’s not the US Navy’s fault.  It’s what I signed up for and I am definitely not complaining.  But, less than two months in on this three year tour and I am physically and mentally spent.

One can really be spoiled when there is a significant other around all the time.  Then, there comes these times that well, you have to suck it up and be the person that everyone needs you to be.  But, in the words of a very famous internet meme,

“I don’t want to adult today.”

In case you haven’t noticed by now, this is really just a blog of me free writing.  Something that I highly encourage everyone to try at least a few times in your life.  It’s actually a great TEMPORARY replacement if your (much recommended) therapist is not available or well, if you can’t pick up your happy place medication for another week.  #truestory

Lately, I have been on a cleaning strike in regards to the rooms of my two older children.  As well as their nasty ass bathroom.  Today I decided that I needed to take control and do my motherly duty of making sure that their living environment was at least disinfected from their disgustingness.  You may be asking, “What does a ‘cleaning strike’ entail and how in the fuck do I pull that shit off?”  Well, please let me guide you.

In my case, a “cleaning strike” is where I refuse to wash, dry, fold or hang any clothing that is not in the proper dirty laundry hampers.  It also means that I won’t be bitching at them to clean their areas.  I mean, if they want to live in complete filth, why not?  Today, I actually found CAT SHIT on the eldest kid’s floor.  Bad kitty, right?  Of course.  The litter box is literally about ten feet from where the shit was.  However, I wasn’t pissed about that.  Oh, no.  Hell, I wasn’t pissed off at all.  All that I could bring myself to think was the amount of time that the pile of cat shit had been in there to actually HARDEN.  Fucking really?  I know that you are only ten years old but, have some fucking pride.  UGH

Saturday night is the 240th Navy Birthday Ball.  I have the most fabulous dress imaginable.  My husband is going to be even more gorgeous than normal since for the first time in his naval career, he will be wearing anchors and chocker whites to the event.  We will be eating wonderful food and hanging out with fabulous people.  I’m not remotely excited.  And, to add insult to that injury… guess what monthly visitor decided that this month was the perfect month to show up about a week early?  I swear, if I was a cheerleader I would be jumping up and down with pom poms and screaming “2-4-6-8, who do we appreciate?  Yaaaaaaayyyyyyy, this is bullshit!”

I have been on a fucking diet for my whole life.  My whole. Fucking. Life.  Not my ADULT life mind you.  The whole goddamn thing.  I am at a point in my life now that I am refusing to eat another fucking salad or another baked chicken breast.  Nope.  Not going to do it.  Give me my mother fucking chicken fried, my pizza greasy and the weight loss clinic to get my legal speed without a waiting line.  I am so there.

Now, what is about to happen is that I am going to take my fat, happy (NOT!) ass upstairs, I am going to put actual pants on, I am going to take that same fat, pizza loving ass to Target, get my trenta, iced green tea with no water, no classic and seven splendas AND a refill to bring home then proceed to Flippin’ Pizza for a slice of whatever looks and sounds good, come home, send the kids to do whatever their little asses need to get done and I am going to crawl my ass into my hell chair and enjoy watching #empire and #ahs like a big girl.  #nobiggirlpantiesneeded

I have no heading for this blog…

My husband is a FY-2016, CPO Selectee.  I am very happy for and proud of him.

That sounds pretty “blah”, huh?  Please don’t underestimate my happiness for my best friend and the love of my life during this momentous time in his Naval career.  He has been wanting this and so deserving of this for so long and it finally happened.  In fact, many have said that this should have happened a few years back.  I would have to agree.  And, if I am being honest, being selected in the past cycles probably would have made some facets of our lives much, much easier. With that same breath of honesty, I want to say how selfishly glad that I am to not have to try and pick up the pieces of not seeing his name on that list this year.

What I am now waiting for is that point where our lives are supposed to be so drastically changed because of this promotion. At some point, shouldn’t I start to feel some special sense of entitlement or some weird sense of ‘belonging’ to this, dare I say, ELITE club of spouses?  Because, I don’t.

Sure.  There is this entirely world of new commitments, new acquaintances, new Naval ‘slang’ and well, life.  In fact, as I sit here typing this, there is a pamphlet sitting in my bag on the “guidelines” of being a CPO spouse.  Hang on, I need to compose and try to contain my amusement….

Okay.  I’m good.  I’m not really a “guidelines” kind of girl, if you know what I mean.  haha

There are social media pages for us.  There are social media pages aimed at us.  There are some that are cruel beyond belief while others are meant to be supportive and empathetic. I am just so confused.

I had to step away from this blog for a few hours because I needed to know if this was one of the situations that I should really consider the words that I put on here or, should I go balls deep and write how I really feel about this whole process of being a Selectee’s spouse.  Pretty sure that if you know me, you are asking yourself, “Ah, shit… how deep exactly are you going this time, Mel?”

I am not, nor have I ever been one to hold my tongue on things that I feel strongly about.  My opinions are my own.  I try to be as respectful as I can muster with other people.  Although, there comes times when honesty is the best course of action.  In other words… if the words you want to say don’t kill, maim or gravely injure another living thing, honesty is ALWAYS the best policy.

So, here we go.  This whole Selectee spouse thing.  It’s really nothing special.  There you have it.  There is my major, balls deep observation and opinion.  The hardest part that I am having with the whole situation is that there is no real hard part.  (Other than on my wallet but, that is an entirely different animal.)  I am not a “newbie” to the induction season.  I have been around the block with friends and those few formerly known as friends as their spouses put on their anchors. (Naval lingo, go google it)  I wanted the ridiculous projects and the late nights working on bullshit, commiserating and bonding with other wives that were going through it also. Well, as far as that shit goes, he got the bullshit all night stuff and all that I got was the norm… taking care of the kids, the animals and the house.  I did, however manage to get myself fired from my job.  First time in my life but, that really has nothing to do with the purpose of this little blog.

Funny enough, I think that this whole CPO thing happening when it did was right on target with our lives and where they are at this point.   No shit… Within the first 72 hours of my husband checking out of his training command as an instructor and checking into his new command, he received the word that his name was ‘on the list’.   I will never, as long as I am able to recall anything that has happened in my life, forget the phone call from him on that morning.  I wanted to cry so badly with him, FOR him but, the tears just weren’t there.  Not even the happy ones.  But, I think that eventually the tears will come.

I am so over the top, ridiculously and momentously honored to be his wife, his best friend and the woman that he chose to make his family with.  I am even more honored to be along on this ride with him and to see what future achievements are coming for him.

I love you, Watson.  To Uranus and all the way back home again…

Let’s see how many people I can offend with this blog in 3…2…1

So, I’m not really going set out and actually TRY to offend everyone.  Why?  Unlike some people, I don’t set out to intentionally say things that would attack someone’s feelings, beliefs, concerns or otherwise.  I don’t intentionally post things on social media to get people riled up.  I embrace who I am and I stand by words that I say.  I don’t always say the right words to convey what I am feeling and I completely lack that filter that allows me to think before I speak.  But, what you get will be the truth.  Some call it, “brutal honesty”.  I call it, “I respect you enough to be myself around you and not sugar coat things”.

So, I have some things that I want to get off my chest and if they offend you, well…

1.  Breastfeeding in public.   If you don’t care about the maternal and legal rights of a mother to feed her child, then let’s think on this another way:  Would you rather that hungry baby be screaming uncontrollably just to appease your sensitive eyesight? My kids’ first exposure to breast feeding was my friend, Rebecca and her son in Japan.  It didn’t “warp” them.  It didn’t taint their childlike innocence.  You know what they do or say when they see a mother breastfeeding her baby now?  NOTHING.  Which is exactly what everyone else should be doing.  Mind your own business.  Done.

2.  The Confederate flag.  For fuck’s sake.  STOP.  It is a F-L-A-G.  It is not a symbol of hate.  It’s not a display of hate.  What it is, is the ignorance of SOME people that hide behind the [history] of the Confederate flag and some weird, sense of entitlement of times long, LONG past.  I am from Mississippi.  My grandfather was in the KKK.  I don’t say that with pride.  I say that because I can assure everyone that the Confederate flag played no role in his hate and ignorance.  Done.

3.  “Sunday Christians”.  This shit is older than I am.  It’s a disgusting display of the worst kind of hypocrisy.  Please don’t think that I fail to notice when social media is the first place that you run to post about your beliefs, your urgency to receive the [Lord] into your life and your Sunday worship service but, not another word of your [faith] at any other time during the week.  I respect everyone’s beliefs.  I love my friends and how they feel comfortable enough to say, “I’ll pray for you” even though they know that I don’t believe in [God] or organized religion.  Done.

4.  How you raise your children.  This is a very simple one.  As long as you aren’t keeping them in a dog crate in the basement, slapping them around and mentally fucking them for the rest of their lives… #notmykid #notmyproblem.  Done.

5.  Immunizations.  Oh. My. Gosh.  Stand down you crazy fuckers.  On BOTH sides of the vaccine debate.  I vaccinate my kids.  Why?  Because it is what is recommended by my trusted pediatrician.  It doesn’t mean that I am ignorant to the risks of any foreign substance that is injected into my child.  It simply means that I have made the best choice for MY children.  As I am sure that the non-vaccine crowd has done also.  Done.

6.  Abortion.  Ah, yes.  The debate of the century.  I honestly don’t even know where to start on this one.  Actually, it’s pretty simple.  MY body, MY life, MY choice.  YOUR body, YOUR life, YOUR choice.  People are so quick to jump on the Pro-Life movement but, many fail to consider all the circumstances where abortion is sought out in the first place.  Done.

7.  Women’s rights, women’s equality vs.  The Man.  I still believe in traditional male and female roles in the home.  I like having my husband take the trash out.  I like the fact that he “brings home the bacon” so that I was afforded the luxury of staying home with my son for the first two years of his life.  I don’t support the oppression of women.  I want women to feel empowered and stand up for their fair treatment in the workplace and society.  But, I enjoy my husband being “the man” in our family.

There.  I could go on but, I have kids to lock in dog crates and flags to raise.  😉

I can’t believe that I am blogging. Twice. In a week. WTF?

Ah, yes.  Now I remember why this is my second blog entry in a week.  Absolute and utter exhaustion.  Well, close to it at least.

I have been awake since 5:05 am.  (I almost wrote, “this morning” but, the “am” probably gives that away…sigh)  Not to mention that this is the first day trying to get back on track with this weight loss thing.  (I have gained 8 pounds since May 22nd.  NOT okay.)

Before I could even leave for work this morning, I see my middle kid limping.  Now, I have to say that I have an extreme issue with kids and the playing up any illness or injury.  And trust, this is usually the case around this house.  But, for once, not this morning.  I guess that I should back up a bit and offer the prelude of this situation that the two older boys went camping for the first time this weekend.  And now, back to my tale…

The middle kid is limping.  I sit on the stairs and grab his foot.  There is a fucking HOLE in his foot and his toes are swollen in this really creepy way that makes them look completely deformed.  In case you missed this, A FUCKING HOLE. IN HIS FOOT.  IN THE TOP OF HIS FUCKING FOOT.  I’m going to save the gory details.  Just know that it was as disgusting as you are imagining right. This. Moment.

Fast forward to me having to get ready to leave for work.  I go to the fridge to try and find something to grab for my low-cal lunch and then I see it.  On the very bottom of the fridge, underneath the produce drawers, there is a puddle of funky water that makes me literally, sick to my stomach.  I start grabbing drawers out and piling them up so that the husband can start washing them and then, I see it.  Yes.  Another “it”.  How in the hell did I miss that much MOLD in the back of my fridge?  Fucking seriously?  Faster forward… thanks the other half of the matrimonial union, we now are in the possession of a fridge that is most likely more clean today than when we bought it.

Productive day at a job that I enjoy and then I get home.  The middle kid’s foot is no better.  You remember that one, right?  The one with the HOLE in his FOOT?  Yeah… I totally gave my kid the option of A.) Me taking my craft room, Exacto knife and lancing this bitch to get it to drain or, B.) going to the ER so that a professional can look at it and determine if an Exacto knife is even really necessary at this point.  (btw, I highly suggested the ER vs. mom with the look of MD hero status in her eyes)

Off to the ER.  Fun times.  Bacterial infection that was the beginning to abscess.  Two antibiotic shots, antibiotic cream, two antibiotic scripts and we were on our way.  Oh.  And crutches.  I definitely can’t forget those fucking crutches that he won’t allow to leave his side.  Honestly?  I think that in between being allowed to be wheeled around in the wheelchair, the hot PA and the crutches…this may have been the highlight of his short 9 years.

I am utterly exhausted.  I am sitting here now, just finished the delicious Taco Tuesday meal that the husband made and counting down the minutes until I can shower and crawl into my freshly sheeted bed.

Then there is that.  I have to make my bed.  Let’s do this.

It’s time. Again.

Today is Monday, June 8th.  Today is the first day of the last week that Watson will be at this training command as an instructor.  What does this mean to those not affiliated with the military?  What this means is that after that day on March 24, 2012 when I picked him up from the San Diego airport, this is the first time that we have had to think about him going back to sea duty.  Now, the time is here.

One of my friends said it best about spending time away from her husband, “I need to miss him”.  I’ve always agreed with that sentiment.  I still agree with it.  But, when it becomes REAL and forced upon you… well, then it just. Plain. Sucks.

The last time that Watson was on sea duty, he was stationed on the USS Carl Vinson.  Again, if you aren’t military… it’s the big, big boat that buried Osama Bin Laden at sea.  lol

The last time that Watson was on sea duty, on the first deployment with the Vinson, I had a trip to meet the ship in Hawaii, sans kids, at the tail end of the deployment.  On the second deployment aboard the Vinson, although the time apart was shorter, it was harder.  But, I also had the possibility of trying for a third baby to look forward to.  (btw, we got that third baby December 2012.)

This sea duty.  This next three, possibly four years of possible deployments, late nights, weeks gone and weeks home, work ups and training, for the first time… I have nothing to look forward to.  Well, there is the fact that this will be the last sea duty of his Naval career.  There will be things with the boys that I can look forward to but, selfishly like every other military spouse, I just want him to be home.  I want him to be here to see accomplishments and failures.  To help with the daily life of the family that we have made together.  I don’t want to relearn how to change a flat tire.  I don’t want to have to call my friends to save my ass when I forget to put gas in the car.  (Hey, that is when you KNOW shit got real…)

I don’t want to take all the boys to Target.  I don’t want to be the “mean mom” that I HAVE to be when he’s gone.  I don’t want to have to give up my ME time for the Navy.  I’m frustrated, irritated and angry already.  And, I don’t even know when or if he will even deploy!

I’m not a total pessimist.  I see the bright side to deployments.  Time to miss him.  Time to become FRIENDS again.  Time to get to know my kids and be their everything again.  Time to save money.  Time to pay off bills.  Time to spoil the boys because you truly don’t realize how nice family separation, hazardous duty pay and tax free paychecks are.  Hey, judge me all you want.  You other military wives KNOW that I speak the truth.  lmao

I miss him already.  There is going to come the first night that he won’t be home the next day.  Or the day after that, the week after that.  Those weeks eventually drag on into months and things get easier.  Missing him never gets easier.  The trying to explain to the kids why he can’t be here never gets easier.  But with each day that passes, the closer we come to being together again.

And that, my friends… is my whiney, “poor, woe is me” military wife blog.  I hope that you enjoyed my complaining.  And, if you can relate to anything in here, share with another military spouse.  Let them know that it’s completely normal.  Everything that they may be feeling is justified and has reason to be said out loud.

Much love, until next time…