Today I was able to get a bit of exercise in.
In futility that is.
I was able to find time today to actually mop the kitchen floor today. It was filthy.
Then it was time for my daughter and I to have dinner. My daughter still has this fascination with gravity…
Here’s an amusing anecdote about life on base.
Today I used my lunch hour to run over to base and get some grocery shopping done at the commissary. It was a very pretty day and and I was enjoying the nice Florida spring.
On my way back I drove by the elementary school on base. The kids were all outside in what I assumed was recess. The were all in their street clothes. Except, as always with the military, something was a bit different. Instead of running through the playground the were running around it. Cones had been set-up around the perimeter of the playground and every single one of those little grade schoolers were doing laps.
Recess. They do it different in the military.
I miss her most.
Please forgive me if this post isn’t filled with the usual hi-jinks and misadventures. I simply don’t feel like it right now.
It’s the end of the day here. The toys and books have been put away. The kitchen is clean. Dishes done. The dog is lounging on his pad and the baby is upstairs in her crib sleeping. The night has come and the house has settled into a very quiet stillness.
Too quiet.
It’s moments like this that the fact that my wife is far away from me, in a strange land fighting in a distant war, becomes inescapable. Without the distractions of work, a house to keep after, and a 19 month old to keep track of, I find myself alone with my thoughts. Naturally my thoughts turn to her. It’s when the house is this quiet that you realize that someone is missing. That there’s a void where there shouldn’t be one. It’s when you can hear your own thoughts echoing in your head that you wish you had your wife here, just to talk to. And when you finally head towards bed at night your only thought is that the bed you once thought was too small is now too big for just you. It’s at night when I miss her most.
My only solace is that nighttime brings the bliss of sleep and the rising of the sun the next day marks one more day she is closer to home. As the sun rises, so too does the energy and activity level of the house. Hope and a spirit of perseverance make a comeback. And the world shakes off the night and moves forward once more.
“Why are you downcast, O my soul? Why so disturbed within me? Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God.”
Psalms 42:11
“Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord.”
Psalms 27:14
So the other night my daughter got me. She got me good. I had just finished drying her off after her bath and it was time to put on her diaper. There she was, laying on the changing mat, giggling, squealing, and laughing after her bath. I should’ve known something was up. Well, as I pulled her legs up to get the diaper under she started to do what most toddlers do and that’s to start wriggling around. Putting on the diaper started to turn into a mini wrestling match. So there I was, holding my daughter legs up with one hand while trying to get the diaper on her with the other while she’s a squirming all around. All that moving must’ve moved something because the next thing I hear is “Pppppbbbbbbbbrrrrrrrttttttt!!!”
She farted.
In my face no less.
Did I fail to mention that lately I have been more focused on feeding her healthy and natural foods versus processed? Foods that are high in nutrition and freshness but also able to produce lots of gas? Extra stinky gas? No? Well this little pooter was able to produce a fart so noxious that it rivaled anything I had ever smelled in my life. Eyes: Watering. Nostrils: Burning. GAHHHHH!!! Being that my face was inches away from the source at the time it was so bad that it had the tangible effect akin to somebody ripping back and clocking me in the face. I literally felt that one.
Of course my daughter thought that it was all quite funny and was just laughing at me. Like she had planned this surprise attack all along. It got me thinking of all the other ways she’d “gotten me” in the past. No, not just farting, but of the various other ways I’ve been on the receiving end of an “attack” by this little pint sized instrument of destruction. Don’t let the big eyes and rosy cheeks fool you!
I was reminded of an article I read on msnbc.com a while back that talks about this very thing. No, not farting but of ways in which parents are injured (unintentionally) during the course of raising their children. While the tone of the article was somewhat tongue-in-cheek, there were still an undercurrent of “this is kind of seriousness” to it. You wouldn’t believe some of the injuries sustained! Apparently I am not immune either.
Like some of the parents in the article I have been, on different occasions, pinched, bitten (teething…yay), head butted in the head, nose, and stomach, kicked in groin, punched in the groin, and have various objects and instruments go for my eyes. And my wife wants at least two more?!? Doesn’t she realize that we’d be out numbered at that point?
Raising children. It’s serious business.
Ninja Baby Attacks!!
Oh. I have a new invention I’m trying to get Babies’R Us to pick-up. It’s an all-in-one outfit for parents. What do you think?
This is a P.S.A.
If you have a child and are thinking about getting a dog;
or if you have a dog and thinking about having a child;
or if you have neither but want both;
you’re life, at some point or another will revolve around poop (and cleaning it up).
That is all.
My wife is pretty darned awesome.
The other day I was having a pretty lousy morning. I was not looking forward to going to work and generally had a bad attitude overall. It was a combination of staying up too late (see video games), a daughter that was teething (and also grumpy), and the uninviting prospect of meetings (teleconferences in my case) all day with people that were generally upset at you for doing your job. I happen to work in legal and compliance for a rather large investment firm so I get to spend my days telling people “no” and “stop that.” Later in the day I get to pick-up my daughter from day care and continue on with me “no” and “stop thats.” Boy was I grumpy.
What does this have to do with my wife being awesome? Well it’s because that even though she’s thousands of miles away she’s still able to brighten my day, cheer me up, and offer encouragement and prayer when I needed it. And it’s effective. My day wasn’t as bad as I thought. I had a better attitude and not as grumpy. All of this got me thinking about how lucky I am to have this wife of mine. She’s smart, loyal, gentle, patient (most of the time), an all around hottie, and she’s somehow my wife!? I’m baffled too.
In the book of Proverbs in the Bible, Proverbs 31 offers a description of a Wife of Noble Character. The woman in this passage is superwoman. She does it all. She raises her kids, manages a household, works the field, runs a business all the while being giving, loving, patient and kind. The Proverbs 31 woman sets a pretty high standard for women everywhere. What does this have to do with my wife? Well, to me she really brings to life the Proverbs 31 woman as a woman, mother, and wife to me. Interestingly, Proverbs 31 doesn’t really focus on the husband so much but there are two passages that talk about how the husband should interact with this wife. In verses 11 and 12 it says “Her husband has full confidence in her and lacks nothing of value. She brings him good, not harm, all the days of her life.”
This is true of my wife to me. With her I have everything. Without her I have nothing. She does bring me good, encourages me, supports me, and is my counsel when I go astray. My voice of reason. Verses 28 and 29 then tells the husband how he is to respond to such a wife. It says “Her children arise and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her: ‘Many women do noble things, but you surpass them all.’”
So to my dear wife, yes there are many incredible women out there, but to me you surpass them all.
Thank-you.
A while ago I wrote about a phenomena that was occurring in my home that I termed “The Bachelor Creep.” It was basically an account of how certain bachelor tendencies of mine were attempting to creep back into my lifestyle since my wife is not around. This is not a good thing. The previous way my inner-bachelor (or inner-child, which is what most women will equate it too) manifested itself was in the re-introduction of bachelor piles. Piles of clothes, dishes, clothes, toys, clothes, papers, clothes, etc.
I spent a good part of a weekend taking care of those piles and successfully banished the inner bachelor back into to the deep, dark recesses of my mind, or so I thought. Perhaps it was just a matter of time before he resurfaced. Perhaps he was just biding his time. Or perhaps his resurgence was triggered by the knowledge that while my wife wears a gun in her holster, I wear sippy cups in mine. Whatever the case may be, it took only one moment of weakness but the Bachelor has made a comeback and in a big way.
I suppose I should have seen the signs that he was lying in wait. I started to “forget” to shave. I was drinking straight from the cartons in the fridge. Instead of plates I was eating straight from the pot, pan or wok that I had cooked the meal in. Toilet seats? I have toilet seats?? But all of that was just a lead up to his final attack. The video game.
Let me just set the record straight here. Most guys enjoy playing video games. All the guys I know enjoy playing video games. Guys like video games. That just the way it is. Get over it already. The problem is that unless there is some balancing force in our lives we’re more than happy to sit and play video games all-day-long. There was an episode during the time when my wife and I were still boyfriend and girlfriend that she became concerned about my video game playing. I’m not a hardcore gamer by any means but I do enjoy a good video game here and there. The problem is that the type of video game I enjoy tend to be in the RPG or Role Playing Game genre. The issue with this genre is that it is very story based and takes a loooooong time to complete. In the episode I referred to above I had started playing this particular game one day and I just kept playing, and playing, and playing. Next thing I knew I had played this particular game from 6pm to 3am. Needless to say I was a zombie the next day which was really obvious my then girlfriend (now wife). Of course she was concerned. Was she going to become a Playstation widow if she married me? Was this an addiction I had to deal with? Red flag, red flag. I had reassure her that I didn’t really play games that often and a session like that is a rarity for me. For some reason she believed me. Whew!
In all seriousness though, I don’t really play video games that much. I have gone months without picking up the controller and when a do it’s usually just for a quick session and also usually when my wife isn’t home… Uh oh.
I really didn’t have the intention to get into a monster gaming session. It just kind of happened. As you may recall in a previous post about my flight with my daughter, one of the tools I used to keep her entertained (and quiet) was my PSP or Playstation Portable. The nice thing about the PSP is that you can take it anywhere, but that’s also a bad thing. After we got back from our trip and I unpacked, I just kind of left the PSP on my nightstand.
Oops.
So the other night I wasn’t that tired yet and I reached over and grabbed the PSP. Wouldn’t you know that there was an RPG loaded in there ready to go? So there you have it. Bored husband, wife thousands of miles away, and a PSP on my nightstand. 6 hours and 1200 EXP later it was 2am. Crud. I need to get some sleep. My daughter wakes up in 4 hours! The next day was not going to be fun. So I put the PSP back down… On my nightstand. Wash, rinse, repeat. I succumbed two nights in a row. Lack of sleep, full work days, and a hyperactive 19month old is NOT A GOOD COMBINATION.
Needless to say I banished the PSP to the TV room. On the third night, after putting my daughter to bed, I crashed into my own precisely 1/2 an hour later. It was 8:30pm. Somewhere that dumb inner bachelor is snickering at me and planning his next comeback.
It’s Spaghetti Night at the Air Force Husband’s household!
Woo!
Hey… Wait a minute…
It’s also now bath night at the Air Force Husband’s household.
The other day I experienced a bit of military male spouse angst. There are times when you come face to face with the fact that your wife will being doing things that are traditionally in the realm of “manly” while you are going about your domestic duties at home.
This was made starkly clear to me as my wife, daughter and I were doing our usually morning Skype session. I had the computer on the kitchen table so we could video chat while I was feeding my daughter breakfast. At some point during our session a colleague of my wife’s came back to ask her a question. Since my wife wears a headset I never hear what the question is. Normally I hear her spout some medical terms and give some instructions as a response to said question.
It was at this time that my daughter started to play with her food. Turning my attention to my daughter I told her “Noooo…you need to put the nana (banana) in your mouth. Uh huh. Good girl! Yay!” At the same exact time my wife responded to her colleague “Yup, you cock that back. Flip that switch to unlock the safety.”
She was talking about guns.
I was talking to my daughter about “nanas”.
Right now I have a strong urge to go and kill some fuzzy little animals, eat raw meat, and take a bath in motor oil.
As I wrote in my last post my daughter and I took a little trip to visit my parents up in the Washington D.C. metro area last week. We had a great time up there. My daughter loved all the attention and the fact that she got to play with her grandparents all day long. I was enjoying the break as my mom, as many mothers are prone to do, did not let me do anything. No cooking, no cleaning, I wasn’t even able to change a diaper. It was nice.
That being said, the actual trip, on the other hand, was a little tougher. I knew traveling with an 18-month old, a fairly hyperactive 18-month old, was going to be a challenge. I had visions of her screaming her lungs off for the entire 2 hour flight. Disturbing images of altercations with other passengers over my daughters refusal to settle down flooded my mind. Fortunately, that wasn’t the case. It turns out that the most exhausting aspect of flying with a toddler, as a single parent (temporary!) is actually getting through the airport. Apparently kids need a lot of stuff.
Occasionally I have to travel for work and I usually pride myself in being a pretty light traveler. For a weeks trip I usually just have my carry-on roller suitcase (usually just half-full) and my computer bag (usually completely full, as my wife will attest). This time, it was different. It’s amazing how much extra stuff you need to pack when bringing along a person that weighs 1/10th of what you weigh (yes…I weigh about 10xs my daughters weight :-|)
This time my suitcase was completely full but half of the clothes packed was my daughters. How can she use up half my suitcase? She’s like 2 feet tall! But that was just the clothes. In addition to clothing I had to make sure I had a supply diapers for the flight, snacks, toys, books, changing pad, wipes, Sippy cups, bibs, rubber table mat, and various other baby paraphernalia. All of this had to fit in a back-pack that was also holding my computer, DSLR Camera, digital video camera (like a Flip Video type), PSP (trust me…this was necessary), and various Daddy paraphernalia. Add to that a stroller and a car seat. So imagine if you will a man with a monster backpack, pushing a stroller, pulling a roller suitcase, and somehow bringing along a car seat. I was doing my best Sherpa impersonation.
I actually had a pretty good system going. Baby was happy in the umbrella stroller I was pushing, back-pack on my back, and the car seat was strapped to the suitcase. BTW, I LOVE my Swiss army backpack with all of its pockets, nooks, crannies, and compartments. So I was pretty proud of myself for figuring out this system and actually cruising through the airport. Then I got to security.
#*&%^#!!!!!
So, baby comes out of the stroller, off with her coat, off with her shoes, off with my coat, off with my shoes, computer comes out of the backpack, coats in trough in one bin, computer in another bin, stroller gets folded and goes through the x-ray machine, car seat gets unstrapped and through the x-ray machine, baby goes through the x-ray…err…scratch that last one. At least I was smart enough to check my suitcase. But what a PAIN IN THE BUTT!!
We get through security, put everything back on and back together, and it’s on our way again. Sherpa time! So we get to the gate. That’s when I realize that the flight is going to be on one of these teeny, tiny commuter jets. Which means we actually board the plane on the tarmac and not through a jet way. Which means we have to go down stairs and the climb up some more stairs to the jet.
#*&%^#!!!!!
Somehow or another we negotiate this last set of obstacles, get to our seats, strap the car seat in and get settled for our flight. The flight itself was pretty uneventful and even got complemented on how well behaved my daughter was. My secret? My PSP with the movie “The Incredibles” loaded on it kept her hypnotic….err occupied for the entire trip. I was able to relax and remember remarking “I never want to do that again!”
Then I remembered that we had to come home in a week.
#*&%^#!!!!
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