Hey It's Ok to be Pissed, Tuesday

I try to link up with the Whispering Writer on Tuesday for Hey It's Ok, Tuesdays. Today I am particularly  pissed about things. So my Hey It's Okay, is all about being okay with being pissed! So for the angry rant... here goes and my apologies!

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Hey It's Ok....

To be pissed that some jackass pulled into my driveway to make a U-turn and hit my husband's parked car.


To be pissed that they pulled away without even ding-dong ditching us. What they did do was leave a flatten tire and red paint on our white car. Thanks, Asshole!



To be pissed that several of my daughter's high school teachers are quite crappy, and incompetent at best. At worst, lazy and underperforming.



To be pissed that my son's 5th grade teacher believes that handouts are the way to teach EVERYTHING. He came home with a handout on eczema and another on amoebas. Really?



To be pissed that I can't get a job teaching here (Germany) because the same teachers mentioned above are tenured in those positions.



To be pissed at myself because I don't know if I want to continue doing what I am doing, which is working at a local pub or actually get a full-time job doing something else. What else? I have no idea.



To be pissed that after months of a deployment my husband's commander isn't going to approve block leave. (Basically it's vacation time for all non-military readers.) Thanks, MAJ BF! (oh and BF doesn't stand for Best Friend.)



To have bought lamps for my bedroom and my living room on Friday, and I still haven't put them together. They are sitting in my living room in the box they came in.



To be pissed that I didn't know Snooki was pregnant. Don't we need a license to procreate? We need one for just about everything else? (Sarcasm- for those who think I would want the government to interfere in procreation.)




To be pissed that I can't vote in the primaries, and my absentee ballot for the presidential election will more than likely not be counted. Let's not even speak of the choices in candidates we have so far. I would rather tunnel to the center of the Earth.... with a spork.




To be pissed that I am always a day late on these Hey It's Ok Tuesdays!




To be pissed that I am pissed.





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Bullet Stopping Blubber

You may or may not remember that I started working out in January. It's going great! Thanks for asking. I've recently joined Weight Watchers, and I have lost 6 pounds on it in the last two weeks. Not to mention that my P90X-Insanity hybrid workout is putting a hurtin' on me. I'm usually pretty damned tired when I am done.

My kids have been pretty oblivious to the whole thing. I work out when they are in school and generally don't bother them with the details of my workout. I don't always need the brutal honesty that comes from the mouth of babes. Apparently I get it whether I wanted it or not.

Yesterday Bear comes home from school and we are sitting at the desk chit-chatting. He is telling me about his "boring" day at school, and I'm cracking smart ass comments about his Handout Queen teacher. Sounds like a little bonding? Nice pleasant conversation? Sweet.

Yea. Right.

All of sudden he turns and grabs my "love handles" and starts pinching and twisting. The cutesy conversation took a detour that I didn't see coming. It was downhill from there. The rest went something like this:

"Can you feel that?"

"Umm yea I can feel it, but it doesn't hurt."


He starts doing it harder.

"Dude. What the hell? Are you trying to hurt me?"


"It's blubber Mom. Blubber. Blubber. Blubber"

"Thanks Bear."


"I bet you could stop a bullet with this blubber."

"Your ass better hope I don't have to today you little shit!"


Incredulous,  "What??!!??"



Really? Same kid who this morning wanted to make sure I got Ms. Jill to help me make his birthday cupcakes for Friday.

"I think I can handle 25 cupcakes, Bear." 


"Ms. Jill makes good cupcakes."

Great. Epic fail at losing weight. Epic epic fail at making cupcakes.




I think I'm going to start rationing his words for the day.






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Crazy Kinda Love

My poor husband always seems to be on the receiving end of my moods. I don't mean to be a hormonal crazy bitch, but sometimes I am. Couple that with a wee bit too much time on my hands, graduate work that I can't seem to get done, and well I can have my moments.

The situation is actually made worse by the fact that he is deployed and HE has way too much time on his hands.

Now this blogging thing is new to us. While I started my blog awhile ago, I have only just started blogging more regularly. Did I mention I had time on my hands? Any who, sometimes I blog about my our children. Sometimes I blog about random things, and sometimes Hubby gets tossed into the shuffle of my blogging. How could he not? If the blog is about my life and what is important to me, then he is a HUGE part of that.

The problem is that sometimes he misinterprets a comment here, or a question there as dig against our marriage or relationship. That is the farthest from the truth.

The blog and posts are just what I am thinking. Like diarrhea of the mouth and brain. It's like having a window inside my head. He always says if he knew what women thought he would be a rich man. (He also says "Take away reasoning, accountability and logic and you have a woman." I don't much care for that little comment.)

Either way I wanted to take a moment to reassure my hubby, here publicly and for the world to read, that I adore him.

Hey Hubby- I love you. I love us. I'm not here because you were the one person I could live with, it was because you were the one person I couldn't live without.

And to prove that, I am going to list some great things about him and our relationship. So the next time I have a random thought that makes you (hubby) feel weird or insecure, stop and re-read this post. Then put your big boy boots on and get the sand outta your mangina because I fucking love you. :)

Here's to Hubby:

• Sparks flew the first night we met, and they have been there ever since. 
• You allowed me to "test" you to make sure you were suitable for me & my daughter before I introduced you into her life. 
• You have treated her like your own from the moment you met her, and she loves you and you are her Dad. 
• You are the worst sore loser ever, and together we are a competitive hot mess. Remember Phase 10? One word: ugly.
• You pushed through my insecurities and abandonment issues, and allowed me to open up and trust you at my pace. That wasn't easy, and I know that. 
• You are a good Dad. 
• You make me laugh and you get my humor. 
• You can have an intelligent conversation with anyone, about almost any topic. 
• You are ambitious and have a life plan. Thankfully that includes me. 
• You would rather sit and watch movies with us, than be out with friends. 
• You are loyal to a fault. 
• You have honor, and a sense of duty and that is hard to come by these days. 
• You don't remember anyone's name and I have to be your "PR rep."
• You try to be strong, but really you are a big softy. 
• You are a patient and considerate lover. 
• You pushed through those awful months when the D word was trumped. 
• You know which ovary is cycling and which is my Angry Ovary and which is Cry-Baby Ovary. 
• You can drink beer like a fish, but I can't. I can drink liquor like it's water, but you can't. 
• You give good Party! Pajamas and snow. Beer & Brats. Fourth of July. Just to name a few. 
• You love my family, and that can't be easy. 
• You love your family, and that is never easy.
• You make me proud by being the best soldier you can be, every single day of the last 21 years of service. That takes commitment. 
• You hate Sundays, and its the only time I get to be strong for you. 
• You have moved us many times, and every move is a new adventure. 
• You are a generous man. 
• You laugh with me, and at me. I laugh with you and at you. 
• You are the best damned griller I know, and anyone that has been to our house for summer picnics would agree. 
• You love me with all your heart and I feel that with all my heart. 
• You want to grow old with me even though you know my mom. 
• You're still the one. 

Sleeping with Children

Hot Mess Mom recently posted a sweet and tender bit about sleeping with her boys. It was something that hit close to home, especially last night.

As a military wife/mom, Dad has a tendency to be away quite a bit, and has been throughout the last 13 years. So it is not uncommon when Dad's away the children fight for position in the bed next to mom. During one deployment I had to create a rotating schedule so there wasn't a huge argument at bedtime about who gets to sleep with mom. It got so bad, I would schedule nights alone so that I could get some rest from the tossing, kicking and movement of little ones in the bed with me.

Except this deployment has been different.

My daughter is going to be 17 in April, and my son will be 11 next Friday. Princess only occasionally likes to sleep with me, and I usually have to ask first:

"Hey ya wanna sleep with Mom tonight?"
"Sure." (Why I banned the word sure.)

She is on her own sheet of music. She stays up late doing homework, and has the iPhone glued to her hand whether it is on music, texting or the latest and greatest, Voxer.  I'm just grateful she still confides in me and wants to occasionally hang out with Mom. I will take what I can get!

Bear, who is usually the one under the covers before anyone can take his place, hasn't really wanted to sleep with me either. It seems I can't bribe them anymore either. Staying up late was always a great bribe!

So last night (Wed.), Bear asked if he could sleep with me tonight (Thurs). I said sure, but since I had to work that it might not be a good idea. I would get in late and then wake him when I was shuffling about the room. So we made a date for Friday night.

As I was standing there thinking about the exchange, I asked him: "What prompted this? Usually I have to beg you kids to sleep with me nowadays." His response, while candid, hurt my heart a bit, he said: "Mom we are getting older. We are looking for our independence."

All that wisdom from an 11 year old.

I know they're looking for their own independence. I also know that these are the easiest days they will experience in their lives, and I want it to last. I want him to cuddle with me, and give me hugs and kisses. I love the evenings when he wants to watch a movie with me. Some of the best moments have been watching the Sand Lot, Stand By Me and Second Hand Lions with him at my side, all cuddled on the recliner, sharing a blanket.

I want to be able to walk up to my teenager and just give her a hug without her asking what's wrong or in the kid voice she does "why you touchy me?"

I want the days where my lap was big enough to fit them. Now she towers over me and he is not far behind, and I am 5'5 1/2". (Yes that half inch makes a difference to me.)

Now she finds it comical to jump into my arms like she did when she was two and watching mom fall or struggle not to. Her latest trick is to jump on my back when I am crouched down. And it doesn't matter where we are. She did it in the commissary embarrassingly enough, and I toppled and bounced back up like a Weeble-Wooble.

Right or wrong I have lived the last 17 years for my children. My entire world is focused on them. What will happen when Princess graduates next summer? What will happen when Bear leaves the nest? Will I be happy to enjoy my hubby? I believe I will... Or will I be that Mom that can't leg go, and struggles to cut the umbilical cord?

Well the good thing is he has already told me that he plans on being a "stay at home son." For right now, I kinda like that idea.


Anyone else struggling with the impending empty nest? How do you cope with the changing maturity of your children?


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