Getting ready for homecoming feels like a bad dance. You know, once of those dances that has its own special song, all about the dance, that even tells you what steps to take.
One step forward. Two Steps back. Now everybody Hop!
That kind of thing.
Except ours goes:
Everybody slide your plans one day to the right. Now back Two days to the left. Jump forward three hours. Now every body scream!
Yeah. This is a pain. An ill choreographed pain.
Showing posts with label just getting it out. Show all posts
Showing posts with label just getting it out. Show all posts
Sunday, June 7, 2009
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Change in Title
I have come to the realization that I am very ready to start a new chapter in my life. I want to be a retiree's wife. I know I still have another 3 years, but man do I have short timer's attitude. I'm not if I can maintain for the next 3 years!
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Now is not the time
When you have been deployed for 3.5 months,
When your wife has been at home alone with 2 children, ages 5 and 2,
When she has only hired a baby sitter two times in those 3.5 months,
And has been without a break for over 2 months,
When she is at her wits end and ready to snap,
That is not the time to tell her that you want to re-enlist and stay in the military for another 3 years.
Not the time.
When your wife has been at home alone with 2 children, ages 5 and 2,
When she has only hired a baby sitter two times in those 3.5 months,
And has been without a break for over 2 months,
When she is at her wits end and ready to snap,
That is not the time to tell her that you want to re-enlist and stay in the military for another 3 years.
Not the time.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Ode to the Rumor Mill
Blasted Rumor Mill why do you churn?
Though dark of night,
And wind too fierce,
Never you stop moving,
Never you stop producing.
In times of fair sun,
And mornings bright,
Your blasted churning seems to break the light.
You produce too much.
You work too hard.
For your successes are our falters.
Your work is our transgression,
And it never seems to be done.
Oh, dreaded Rumor Mill,
We besiege you now to stop.
Give us but a moment of silence,
A bit of peace to rest our ears,
So that at last we can hear the truth.
Though dark of night,
And wind too fierce,
Never you stop moving,
Never you stop producing.
In times of fair sun,
And mornings bright,
Your blasted churning seems to break the light.
You produce too much.
You work too hard.
For your successes are our falters.
Your work is our transgression,
And it never seems to be done.
Oh, dreaded Rumor Mill,
We besiege you now to stop.
Give us but a moment of silence,
A bit of peace to rest our ears,
So that at last we can hear the truth.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Too Many Thoughts
Can't sleep and can't lay still.
Too much to think about, and nothing to do about it.
I think about the little ones and how I am raising them alone.
At least for now, though he is with me in spirit.
Every day they get bigger, in mind and body.
Every day they change, by word and deed.
She doesn't need her paci any more.
Soon there will be no diapers.
She can read on her own now.
She doesn't even ask for a bedtime story, but just a book to read.
How much more will he miss, in order to achieve his goals?
How much more will I sit and think, without being able to lay still?
Too much to think about, and nothing to do about it.
I think about the little ones and how I am raising them alone.
At least for now, though he is with me in spirit.
Every day they get bigger, in mind and body.
Every day they change, by word and deed.
She doesn't need her paci any more.
Soon there will be no diapers.
She can read on her own now.
She doesn't even ask for a bedtime story, but just a book to read.
How much more will he miss, in order to achieve his goals?
How much more will I sit and think, without being able to lay still?
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