Regarding my “hysteria” yesterday that caused me to run over a mailbox and “destroy” a car (replacement part purchased on eBay for less than $35 including S&H), Bill called my “driving under the influence of emotions” or DUIE as I like to call it, a…
…sub neurological disorder related to the uterus…
…and now he’s quoting me Greek derivatives for hysterical – of or relating to the womb…
…and now I am going to my bed…
…and he is not.
When we arrived home yesterday, Mary was napping. I really had to restrain myself from waking her up right away. Later, I decided to run to the grocery store for a few items, and wanted to be sure to be home before she awoke.
I went. I shopped. I came home and put the freezer stuff in the freezer in the garage and hauled half the remaining bags to the kitchen. Mary was still sleeping. Good.
As I unloaded the bags and Bill went out for the few I couldn’t carry, I realized I didn’t have the bacon. Billy likes bacon, and we didn’t have any last weekend. I made sure to pick up bacon at the store, but it wasn’t in the bags, not even in the ones Bill brought in. Flustered and annoyed and worried that I’d not be home when Mary woke up, I hurried back to the store, which is right across the street from my neighborhood.
I cannot drive when I’m flustered and annoyed and worried. I just can’t. So as I backed out of the drive, I backed into our mailbox, spinning it 45 degrees, and smashing the taillight on the driver side (and let’s not talk about the scratch on the rear quarter panel, ok?). Now I was even more flustered and annoyed and worried, but I trudged on to the store. The man at the customer service counter walked with me over to the appropriate cashier who remembered me (I should hope so – I had left there about 15 minutes prior).
She had bagged the bacon with some other items that went straight into the freezer, bag and all. My bacon was at home and had been all along.
Now I was flustered and annoyed and worried and really really angry at myself, but I managed to drive home without killing myself or others or destroying more property.
And Mary was still asleep. And my husband, who has to clean up my mess, was very forgiving (imagine the scene where the sinful woman is weeping at Jesus’ feet, only my hair is shorter and my husband had shoes on).
And we had bacon for breakfast.
Today is our last full day here. It has been very busy, and not very restful, but that’s OK.
I DO miss the kids. But not terribly. They sound so cute and sweet on the phone, and I can’t wait to see them again. But I’m not dying without them. This is a good sign for my marriage. If Bill weren’t here, I am certain I would not be so content.
I have enjoyed sitting next to my husband in some of the classes. I have really enjoyed passing notes to him during the talks. During one talk on Trauma (death, loss, illness and other cheerful topics), I was sniffling. He wrote, “You’re too empathetic.” I responded, “You are invalidating my emotions.” If you’ve ever done a marriage retreat or read marriage help books, you might understand why we both thought that was very funny.
I have enjoyed going for a run/walk with my husband most mornings. Eastern Kansas is very hilly, but where I currently live is very flat. My shins do not enjoy the terrain, nor do they think wearing heels and briskly walking to and from class (about a half mile) is a good idea. But it’s nice being with Bill.
I have enjoyed being at Leavenworth, especially in the spring. This is a beautiful campus, and we have many happy memories here. We have talked about returning here, maybe in a few years, maybe doing the “twilight tour” as they call that last job you have before you retire. We shall see.
I have enjoyed eating meals with my husband. Without interruption. Without having to hurry up before there is a meltdown in a restaurant. Without having to gear some or all of our conversation around or away from topics that the children may or may not hear.
It has been a good week. I hope it is not another decade before we do this again.
The first thing Bill and I did when we got on post Sunday night was to drive past our old house to see if the tulips were still there. They were, to my joy.
After class today, I suggested we walk down the street to see an old neighbor. I might stop by our old house to see if the residents are enjoying their blooms.
This school is keeping us busy, but the information is great. I’m glad I have come. But, of all the best laid plans, the girl I lined up to watch my younger children while my mom took the boys to baseball blew me off. I’m trying not to be really angry.
I owe my mom big time, too. I’ll have to send her for a facial or a pedicure or something. She’ll probably be happy just to go home.
Somewhat guiltily I confessed to my husband that I don’t miss the kids. Not yet. Maybe it’s because I’m so busy. If I were sitting on a beach with nothing to do, I might pine for them. But for now, I’m just enjoying going for a run (walk) with my husband and having periods of quiet. No interruptions. No crying. No bottoms that need to be wiped.
Today we’re doing Myers-Briggs personality tests. Guess my type and the person who gets closest will win some Godiva chocolate. Since I’m not home, I’ll keep this offer open until Sunday the 18th. If there are multiple people who get it right, I’ll do a drawing.
I am at an airport – alone. (Excepting, of course, thousands of strangers).
I have just kissed my husband goodbye at the gate for yet another week away from home courtesy of the US Army.
I am now sitting at another gate waiting for my flight to the same place. I get to go to school too. We just couldn’t get on the same flight there, but we’ll arrive at the same time.
One week without my children. The longest I have ever been without one or more of my children is 24 hours, and that was over 10 years ago and Bill wasn’t with me.
I’m sure I’ll be fine.
Pray for my mother!
Pray for my children. I told them to pretend it was summer camp: Mrs. Moore’s Boarding Camp for Prim and Proper Young Ladies and Gentlemen. When I was in kindergarten, my new classmates were discussing where they had attended preschool. I had no idea what they were talking about, because I was “homeschooled” for preschool. I asked my mom where I had gone to preschool and she told me Mrs. Moore’s Boarding School. I was quite old before I got her joke.
I am certain my older 4 will have a great time. I just hope the younger two don’t exhaust my mom.
Oh, and where is the Army sending us? My fabulous week long getaway will be to Fort Leavenworth, Kansas. Hooah. But as my sister pointed out, I already live in a resort-like place, so I shouldn’t complain about spending a week near the Federal Penitentiary. And as one of my husband’s coworkers mentioned, if it’s a week without children, it could be spent in the garage and still be great.
Sometimes, ignoring the full story is a good thing.
I will forget about the heavy toddler who woke up after communion and said immediately, “I want to go home.” Instead, I will remember the big cathedral bells ringing at the moment of consecration.
I will forget about the 90 minutes or more of waiting in the confessional line (half before and half after Mass) , and instead remember the soloist for the wedding that was about to start singing “Ave Maria” at the moment of absolution.
I will forget about the ice cream shop stop after Mass where the store was down to only 8 flavors (the least popular ones, of course), and instead remember the Mom-of-5 greeting this Mom-of-6 and within 60 seconds learning that we also had homeschooling and military husbands in common.
I will forget about the kids who seem to have trouble going to sleep at night, and remember the hugs and kisses.
Though I’ve tried before to tell her
Of the guidelines I have for her in my home
Every time that I come near her
I just lose my cool
And my mouth starts to foam
Every little thing she does is messy
Everything she does requires a mop
Now there is no point in being dressy
I’ll just end up with stains upon my top
Do I have to tell the story
Of a thousand cleaned up spills since she woke up
Of the marker on the walls
Or of the mashed banana in my coffee cup
Every little thing she does is messy
Everything she does requires a mop
Now there is no point in being dressy
I’ll just end up with stains upon my top
I try to monitor her every second of the day
And keep everything up high and out of her way
But she always finds the butter
Or an unattended drink
She’ll empty the contents of my wallet
And put dog food in the sink
Every little thing she does is messy
Everything she does requires a mop
Now there is no point in being dressy
I’ll just end up with stains upon my top
Every little thing she does
Every little thing she does
Every little thing she does
Every little thing she does is messy messy messy
Messy messy messy
Tonight’s dinner was Monte Cristo sandwiches which are as regionally unique as potato salad. I made mine open-faced with french toast (yes, that bread), ham and cheddar cheese, broiled and served with maple syrup. I’ve never made them before, and I don’t think I’ve ever eaten them before.
The recipe is a winner.
Any other suggestions for leftover ham?
The following is my favorite Easter bread recipe. I make it every Holy Saturday to eat on Easter Sunday. It takes about 6 hours from start to finish, but it’s worth the waiting. Recipe is from Lent and Easter in the Christian Kitchen which cites A Continual Feast.
Lambropsomo: The Bread of Easter Brightness
Reit This Way 