CELEBRATION time!

I have so many things to be happy about right now, but the biggest is BIG BIG BIG news....the deployment is OFF!  Hubby is NOT preparing to leave for nearly a year!  He'll still return to his regular work schedule in a week or so, which often takes him away from us for 3 or 4 days at a time, but he gets to come HOME a lot, too. I'm still so nervous about my own return to work as I adjust to the new baby, give Bobblehead enough attention,  etc. but now I am more excited than nervous.

I get to CELEBRATE having this beautiful baby (who still needs a blog name - any suggestions?)

I get to CELEBRATE Bonehead leaving for Navy boot camp in 3 weeks

I get to CELEBRATE my Doula business, which is still growing despite my current hiatus from attending births (more demand for Birth Photography and Placenta Encapsulation, both of which I CAN do without having to be away from baby for so long)

I get to CELEBRATE my birthday AND Mother's Day with my hubby by my side! Not on the other side of the world! YAY!

I get to CELEBRATE the baby's upcoming baptism, and enjoy time with family & friends

I get to CELEBRATE my blogiversary, which I think passed a few weeks ago.....I've been blogging here for three years already! Maybe this should be celebrated with a giveaway?

But mostly, just ready to celebrate the deployment being cancelled. SO freaking exciting for this tired, overwhelmed mommy!

Here we go AGAIN.....

Last week was a very eventful one! After weeks of bedrest to stop pre-term labor, I finally reached FULL TERM and was doing anything I could to start labor.  I ate two whole fresh pineapples over the course of three days, walked about 20 miles in those same three days, had as much sex as my poor exhausted hubby could handle, and even used accupressure & aromatherapy to get things moving.  I had lots of great contractions, but any time they started to get into a good 'productive' feeling pattern, they would stop.

Tuesday morning I had my 40 week checkup at the OB, and she checked my cervix for progress; I was dialted to 'almost 5 cm' .....a loose 4, at least, and was about 70% effaced.  Five days prior, I had been a 'tight 4 cm', or 3 to 4 cm and 70% so this was at least SOME progress.  I felt my body was finally getting ready enough for me to get more aggressive, so I made plans to take castor oil late that night (as planned ahead with my doula, who also gave me the protocol for Evening Primrose Oil to further ripen my cervix).....but as it turned out, I didn't have the chance to get more aggressive with it.  I went home from the checkup and started fixing lunch for my hubby, who was in a strange mood. I finally asked him outright what I had done to upset him, and he told me he wasn't mad at me.....

This is where he let me in on a BIG SECRET he had been keeping from me for weeks:

ANOTHER FUCKING DEPLOYMENT!

We don't have the exact time frame yet, but we know roughly where he's going and for how long. And we know it will be 'SOON'.  Too damned soon.  He wasn't trying to be deceptive, but he didn't want to upset me when I was supposed to be on bedrest.....finally he HAD to say something because his command was bugging him to confirm that I was 'on board' (what, like I have any fucking SAY in the matter?!?! HAH.)

I didn't cry (very much) and didn't throw a fit, just discussed it with him for a few minutes - what this means for our family, how it changes plans we had for the next year, etc. - and I went back to fixing his lunch.  I sent my best friend/battle buddy a panicked text and she calmed me down while I worked on the food.  I took Jarhead's food to him in his office/mancave, and brought mine in to join him.

Not two bites into my own lunch, I had a STRONG contraction - like a serious HOLY SHIT THAT FUCKING HURTS contraction.  I actually halfway laughed once it had passed, because my text to my friend 15 minutes prior  had included the phrase "I feel like I was just punched in the gut".  I was speaking figuratively, of course, and yet here I was LITERALLY breathless and in pain.

So all that work to get labor going, and it turns out all we had to do was give me the craziest bad news I could have imagined.  Baby #5 was born about 12 painful (all-natural) hours later, and is healthy and PERFECT.

I don't know how on earth I will survive this coming deployment, especially with a newborn AND a toddler to care for....but suffice it to say I will be blogging here more frequently.

Wife Swap (?)

I realize that I owe you all an update (yes, I actually AM aware of the passing of time in this crazy life of mine) but instead I am writing this in response to Kristle's recent SpouseBuzz article about Wife Swap (read her post HERE).

Having never actually watched an entire episode of Wife Swap, it is tough for me to say whether or not I would be willing to do this show (I am guessing NOT....and it is a moot point because Jarhead would NEVER agree to this!!!) however, even if I was willing to swap, and even if hubby agreed to it, I know for a fact that the show's producers could NEVER find anyone willing to take on my insane life for any period of time.

The manual I would have to leave for anyone so crazy would probably go something like this:


"Welcome to our insane asylum. If you did not bring your own meds, well sorry - you'll wish you had. If you feel the need to 'borrow' some, borrow mine, they're the BEST.  But they always run out, so good luck with that.  In an emergency, you can borrow my 'backup meds':

As you will notice when you enter our home, dust is a NOUN here, not a verb.  (it is something that is HERE, not something I DO)  If this bothers you, feel free to waste your time constantly shifting the never-ending supply of dust from one surface to another.  I prefer to spend my time tending to the needs of all the men in my life:




This is Jarhead.

He is always right. Don't question it, just know that he IS always right. He has a charming mix of Bi-polar symptoms and O.C.D., with A.D.D. tendencies and some violent anger outbursts thrown in for fun. I am pretty sure this is actually undiagnosed PTSD, unless maybe he is taking asshole pills behind my back.  DON'T POKE THIS BEAR.  He doesn't regularly take any meds, much to my dismay.  Your best bet is to provide timely meals that are at least a little appealing, with plenty of salt and cold Coke Zero.  Desserts help, too.  Serve with a remote control on the side, and stay out of his line of sight.  Do NOT, under any circumstances, make fun of his incessant channel surfing.  He is only home 3 out of every seven days, so just keep the peace while he's home, and you can breathe easier and stop walking on eggshells for four straight days.




This is Bonehead. 

He will be 18 in 149 days, but who's counting? He is ridiculously funny, but even more ridiculously inappropriate.  If you are easily offended, bring ear plugs or an iPod so you can ignore him.  99.9% of everything that comes out of his mouth is a meaningless joke, anyway.  He can be trusted to babysit the toddler for a few hours at a time, but be prepared to come home to this scene if you take advantage of this:

(yes, that is a baby asleep in a laundry hamper)

Bonehead can also be very violent if provoked, and stands a full 6' 4" so don't poke THIS bear, either.  His primary trigger is anyone mentioning his Asperger's Syndrome, or anything that he perceives to be a reference to this.  One recent meltdown started with me saying, "you would be good at X" because he assumed that my reason for thinking he would be good at it was because of his Asperger's.  Just give him something constructive to do each day, and give very clear & concise instructions. If you leave room for interpretation, YOU WILL GET his interpretation (and it won't match anything you could ever come up with on your own).  Ask him to show you his speed-solving skills with his Rubik's Cube - this is phenomenal to see, and he is always happy to show off.




This is Knucklehead.

He is our 'perfect child'.  Or was, until he hit middle school. Now he occasionally brings out a teenage attitude, but generally uses this to go pout in solitude.  He can be trusted to watch the toddler, but is not great about changing diapers - so limit your errands to 2 hours or less, if you leave Knucklehead in charge.  He will spend his free time playing videogames, shooting hoops at the park down the street, or playing with his little brother.  He is low-maintenance, but don't forget to give him some attention or you'll see that attitude I mentioned above.




This is Bobblehead.

He loves eggs and hates being told what to do.  He knows he is cute, so beware! He will use those dimples against you if he can.  He naps pretty well (finally!) and sleeps through the night, but is very dependent on certain routines and comfort items to make this happen.  See the 'sleep manual' provided in a separate volume. He wiggles during diaper changes, as he seems to think his purpose in life is to streak around the house naked.  He throws a mean tantrum, but can usually be distracted from a fit with a ball; any ball will work, but basketballs are his favorite. He also loves splashing in water... ANY kind of water (keep bathrooms off limits or he will play in the toilet)

His language has been a little slow to develop, but is now picking up, so you can expect him to learn hundreds of new words during your stay here.  Please don't teach him any four-letter-words, as I have worked very hard to curb my own swearing to keep him from repeating anything that might embarrass me, say, at church.  Or at the Christian Preschool where I teach (that's another whole manual there).  Bobblehead gives the BEST cuddles, so if there are no 'meds' or 'backup meds' in the house, his snuggly hugs and kisses should get you through the rough days.  They certainly do for me."

What would you put in your manual, if you went on Wife Swap? Post in the comments below, or better yet make a blog post about this and put the link in a comment below :)

As always, THANKS SO MUCH for reading!


   

checking in

I know I have not been on here in AWHILE (sorry again!) even though I said I would be back more regularly. Life has other plans for me than blogging, apparently.

*sigh*

My preschool job is going well, but it's been a long and difficult adjustment.  The hardest adjustment has been learning how to juggle all of my responsibilities in addition to working full time, but I also struggled with missing Bobblehead (whose class is right down the hall from mine, so at least I get to see him some throughout the day). Hubby started stepping in and helping with household stuff a few weeks ago, which has helped IMMENSELY. Well, except for the fact that I'm a bitchy control-freak and have a tendency to go behind him and re-do stuff that I determine he has done 'wrong'.  I'm getting better about letting go of this, but it is so hard!

I can't remember whether or not I announced on here my 'new career'.....I am now a trained Birth Doula!  I'm going through the process of certification through DONA International, and I expect to be certified by the end of this year. I don't know if I will ever make a LIVING doing this, but for now I want to offer my services for free to military mommies who are giving birth while hubby/boyfriend is deployed.  Bobblehead's birth during deployment effected me so profoundly, and I could NOT have done it without my amazing Doula.  Had she not been there, I am certain I would have had a cesarean!  The most I can reasonably commit to, time-wise, is one birth a month.  If I ever decide to quit my preschool job though, I can schedule as many as three births a month (hard to do, since we all know due-dates are ESTIMATED & babies rarely come ON their due date!) and if I do civilian births, doulas in my area are charging $750 to $1000 per birth.  Hourly, this breaks down to anywhere from $20 to $50 per hour depending on the length of that mommy's labor, but it is still a PART TIME job, so I think I would have to start teaching childbirth classes or breastfeeding classes or something to fill in the financial gap. ANYWAY, that's really jumping the gun!  For now I am just really enjoying helping mommies welcome their little ones into the world.  I don't have any clients scheduled to deliver in June, but I have a July birth lined up already, as well as August & October.  I might have a September birth scheduled, but that mommy has not gotten back to me yet.  (if you know a military mommy on or near Pendleton who is due in September & can't afford a doula, have her contact me in case I can help her for free!  Priority will be given to a mommy whose hubby will be deployed or far away for training at the time of the birth, but that's not a requirement at this point)

My home life & marriage is still a full time job in itself, but it is still going.  At least I haven't been 'fired' and I'm sure as hell not about to QUIT!  Hubby and I are working through some of our issues, and trying to take time to enjoy the kids.  Bonehead will be moving out sometime in the next couple of months, but his actual plans keep changing.  Part of me hopes he follows through with his plans to enlist, but part of me prays he finds a civilian job instead. Knucklehead continues to impress everyone with his stellar academics (straight A's again!) and his extracurricular activities (basketball, band, and Young Marines) and Bobblehead is growing like a weed - still not talking much at 20 months, but learning new 'tricks' every day.

I'd love to commit to updating this blog at least weekly, but all the things I want to write about are the things that KEEP me from having time for blogging!  Our ongoing struggle with undiagnosed PTSD, the longest reintegration in history, my weight battles, my depression/anxiety issues, and the everyday adventure of raising all these boys are all EXTREMELY time consuming.  So forgive me if it is a long time before you hear from me, but thanks for coming back every time I do - it means more than you know.

(HUGS!)

did i say that out loud???

Just a warning right from the start - this post might piss a lot of people off.  That is NOT my intention, however, human nature being what it is, I know that it is a likely result.

My intention in sharing this is actually twofold - I need to get some negative crap off my chest, and I want to bring awareness to the struggle that so many other spouses like me are going through RIGHT NOW.  Maybe you know one, and maybe you'll approach her differently after you read this (?)  Or maybe you'll just sit down and write me a nasty email for being honest.

So, you know that scene in Jerry Maguire, where he basically has a nervous breakdown & then a manic episode, during which he writes his mission statement (the title is something like, 'the things we think but do not say') and he makes sure that EVERYONE in his company gets a copy........then he wakes up, realizes that he wants to take back EVERY WORD, and then realizes it is too late?  Yeah, THAT moment.  Have you ever felt like that?  I have a feeling I will feel that way within about 15 seconds after I click "PUBLISH POST" but I am posting this anyway, knowing that it actually NEEDS to be said.  My integrity won't let me delete this post for the sake of being politically correct, or for the sake of looking like the dutiful, obedient mil-spouse I am supposed to be.

FUCK THAT.  Oh yeah, sorry, language advisory. *AHEM*

Anyway, the thought that has sprung into my head at least a couple of times in the past 14 months, the one that will probably make you want to slap me, is one that I really can't SPEAK OUT LOUD.  I'm actually shaking as I type this, because even putting it out in the blogosphere is so very taboo.  The horrible thought is this little tiny voice in the back of my head, that I can barely hear over the wails of despair over a particularly rough day/night/week dealing with my (invisibly)wounded hubby.....the voice is mine, and whispers, "why couldn't he have just DIED over there?"

Before you rush off to write me hate mail for saying this, please read the rest of this post!

I absolutely do NOT wish that my hubby was dead!  Nor do the other thousands of women who are the primary caregiver/support to a wounded warrior - whether his wounds are visible or not, treatable or not. These men return home but are no longer themselves, and we, their wives, girlfriends, or mothers, take on the daunting task of helping them figure out WHO they are now, and how that new man fits into society, into our families, into our LIVES.

In my case, my hubby has refused to get help for what I am now certain is PTSD.  Some days I would swear he is bi-polar, other days schizophrenic, other days BOTH.....and some days, very very rarely, I would say he is HIMSELF, the same man who left here in May 2010, kissing my pregnant belly goodbye.  Those rare 'good days' are such a gift, but at the same time they leave me hurting SO MUCH MORE.  Those days are part of what makes me subconsciously 'jealous' of the brave war widows I know.  Not really jealous, but I can't come up with a better word.  You see, a widow has to endure an entire life without ever seeing her love again.  She KNOWS he is gone, and is never coming back.  She can grieve publicly and privately, and move forward with whatever new life she's able to make for herself.  She gets to cherish the memories of her hero as she last saw him.....maybe he even kissed HER pregnant belly goodbye.

For me, the random glimpses of my husband's old self - his REAL self, are just such a merciless tease.  Those moments make me think that maybe he really IS coming back to me, completely whole.  And when he slips farther away from me, having a terrifying blowup, or meltdown, or just plain shutting down altogether, I GRIEVE all over again.  Hate me for saying this if you must, but emotionally, it is as though he has DIED several times just in the past six months.  Every time, I go through the cycles of grief all alone, in private, and if I get to that lowest of low points and hear that little voice whispering 'why didn't he just DIE over there'....then I go through days, weeks, or even months of GUILT just for having that thought.

Again, it's not that I WANT him dead, but when this burden becomes so heavy, I secretly steal a glance at one of my amazing widow friends (you know who you are!) and wish I could trade my load for hers.

Any wife of a Wounded Warrior will admit to having this very thought at least ONCE.  If she denies it, she is either lying, or hasn't walked this road far enough yet.....she'll get there, I promise.


The important thing, of course, is when we DO get there, when we hit our emotional rock bottom, we have to learn to BOUNCE.  And I think the first step is to talk about what 'rock bottom' actually looks like, feels like, and sounds like.  Even if it is just a little whisper that we don't want to acknowledge, much less say OUT LOUD.

more running to stand still

I've been trying to sit down and blog for the past few days, but just don't know what to say.  I even missed Amber's music linkup for the first time EVER. This week has just sucked SO BAD.  I posted earlier in the week about some of the struggles we're dealing with as a family, but can't even really put into words what I'm actually going through right now.

Bonehead came home yesterday, but has been a complete jerk since he got here.  I feel like I'm bending over backward to please everyone and all it gets me is kicked in the teeth.  I seriously think that I will soon be the mother of a HIGH SCHOOL DROPOUT.  Sad thing is, this kid is such a genius! He's throwing so much away right now.  I did make it clear to him that I am on his side, and that is exactly WHY his last day to live here will be Nov 24 (his 18th birthday).  Seems I'm good at kicking people out, huh? :(

Speaking of which, I finally talked to my hubby for a few minutes on the phone yesterday - first contact we've had since I asked him to leave last Monday following his meltdown.  He is still very angry about pretty much everything, mostly just mad at ME at the moment for making him go.  It's not like he left me any choice, the way he blew up here!  I'm a little bit scared that he'll blow up like that at work, where he carries a gun.....the consequences could be SO MUCH WORSE than just having to go stay with his grandmother for awhile.  Not scared enough to actually call his supervisors to warn them or anything, but still it's a little nagging worry in the back of my mind.  I'm also a little scared that he will retaliate financially against me & the kids - you know, stop paying the mortgage, etc. I have a new job starting this week, but it will basically only be enough to feed us & that's it - I can't pay any of the other household expenses with the little bit of money I'll be making.  And, when I look at this honestly, I am still scared that he could come back here to confront me, try to force his way into the house, etc, and this time really hurt someone.  If I was not physically afraid of him, I would not have asked him to leave to begin with.

I keep waiting for him to call and actually APOLOGIZE to me.  Not a weak, "I'm sorry your feelings were hurt" kind of thing, but a true, "I'm sorry, can you forgive me?" kind of thing.  Maybe with flowers, I guess, I don't know.  But he's not anywhere near even recognizing how far he went this time, and even if he does recognize that he crossed a line, he won't admit that to anyone else.

I reach for my phone several times a day to call or text him, but I always manage to talk myself out of it, knowing he really needs some time and some space to figure things out right now.  It is SO HARD for me to just leave it be....but I know in my heart that I HAVE TO leave it, for now at least.  So I keep busy instead, and by the time I even have TIME to call or text him, it's well past bedtime.  He turns his phone off when he goes to bed, so at least that normally keeps me from acting on the urge to at least CHECK on him.  Last night after a glass (or 3) of wine, I finally did send him a sappy text about how I will always love him, even if it has to be from a distance.  He didn't even get the text until late this morning, and of course now that I am sober I'm kicking myself for sending it.

MUST. RESIST. TEMPTATION.

:/

This is one of the hardest things I have ever done, but now I have to look at this as though I am the parent and Hubby is the child here (because psychologically, he kind of IS....or at least is acting like a child!)  If I give in and let him come home WITHOUT getting help, he'll never get help.  On top of that, he'll never take me seriously again, which would then be setting me up for a lifetime of abuse.  I CAN'T live that way, and I sure as hell don't want my boys to grow up seeing that example of how to treat a woman!  I put my foot down, and now I have to stand by my word.....he can NOT come home until he has gotten some help - at least counseling, preferably coupled with some pysch meds.  The meds part is not a deal breaker for me, but I know he could be so much more functional/content/HAPPY with a llittle chemical help right now.

*sigh* Well, off to do a little more running nowhere - literally this time, on a treadmill.  Then I'll run around and stay busy the rest of the day so I won't follow up that text with a 'please come home' text.  I really do miss him, but even when he is HERE, he's not really himself anyway - not since Afghanistan.  I want my REAL hubby back!  The one I would never have needed to be AFRAID of.  The one who used to laugh and play and LIVE his life.  OUR life, together.   I'm pretty sure THAT man is never coming back, and the grief over that is overwhelming.

prayer request

I don't usually do this, but am asking you all to please say a prayer for my family tonight.  Last week my teenager, AKA "Bonehead" ran away - he is safe at a friend's house for now, but needs to come home and handle things here......he's risking throwing away his last opportunity to graduate this year, and therefore losing his best opportunity to get into the military.

On top of the teenager issues, my marriage is in trouble, AND my hubby is struggling with more mental health issues (which he STILL has not gotten help for).... this morning he lost his temper to the point that he got physical.  No one was hurt, but he scared the crap out of all of us.  I had to ask him to leave.  It breaks my heart to be the one who is 'kicking him out' when he so clearly needs a LOT of love and patience right now, but I can't risk him hurting me or the kids in a blind rage.  I'm seriously hoping and praying that this will be the final straw for him, the one thing that will MAKE him go and get help.

He has gone to a few counseling sessions in the past year, but I know he is not being honest with the therapist - so how is she supposed to help him?  He's been referred to a psychiatrist, and WOW, if anyone needs psych meds right now, it's my husband - but he "doesn't have time" to go see the psychiatrist. I pray that he will now MAKE time, and will take his mental health as seriously as he's always taken his physical health.

I truly hate to air our dirty laundry here like this, but you already all know how much we've struggled with his mental health issues (and MINE) since he returned from deployment 14 months ago.  The 'reintegration' ugliness is mostly over, but if he doesn't find a way to heal his mind, it won't matter.

Please, just say a prayer for peace and health for my whole family.

THANKS.

be careful what you wish for (and Happy Valentine's Day)

In April 2009, when it seemed my entire life was upside down, I lost my job as a preschool director.  I had been with that agency for over two years, and was miserable for at least the last year of it because of the difference between my personal philosophy and that of my bosses (yes, bossES, as in, plural.  Another headache there).

Anyway, I looked for another preschool job, initially focusing on administrative positions, but broadening my search fairly quickly to include applying for entry-level on up.  I was repeatedly told that I was 'overqualified' for so many jobs, before finally landing my current VERY PART TIME job as a school crossing guard.  Somehow my degree and credential did NOT over-qualify me for holding up a stop sign in a crosswalk for an hour every morning and another hour in the afternoon. (?)

I was 4 months pregnant with Bobblehead when I was hired for this job, so I was happy that it was so part-time.  I've kept my ear to the ground since then for a PRESCHOOL job, but wasn't searching very aggressively because I knew we didn't have many QUALITY infant/toddler child care programs in the area for my little Bobblehead.  Once he is 18 months old, our selection of viable child care choices becomes HUGE, so I started applying like crazy for everything I could a couple weeks ago. (Bobblehead is now 17 months old).

One position that I applied for was a Preschool Director position a couple towns away....about a 30 minute commute if there's no traffic.  The neighborhood is bad, the school is in a very SAD state of disrepair, and the owners don't seem to know what they're doing.  They have 30 children enrolled right now, in a program that is licensed for over 150 children!  Still, I was up for the challenge and they seemed to really WANT me, especially after I talked to them about marketing ideas, curriculum implementation, etc during my second interview with them.  They have an infant/toddler program there, though the quality is, well. QUESTIONABLE.  As the director, I would definitely have the power to turn that around, but still I was not exactly ANXIOUS to bring Bobblehead there.  I told myself I could work around that, maybe have my sister watch him for the first month or so while I worked to get the program into shape.  I just wanted the job so bad!  Unfortunately, they were only willing to offer about HALF of what I expected to earn there, so it was not a winning proposition for me.  I don't know who they finally hired to do that job, but she has an uphill battle ahead of her! (Especially since the owners clearly are not willing to spend any money to make money with this program)

I applied for several other positions, had LOTS of great job interviews, and finally this week hit paydirt....sorta.  Our valley's one-and-only QUALITY program for infants and toddlers opened just a couple months ago, and they are rapidly growing and filling that part of the school as word gets out that they're there.  They advertised looking for a qualified Infant teacher to accommodate that growth, so naturally I was interested!  Not administrative, but a GREAT program for my baby Bobblehead, so definitely something I wanted. Bad.

I wore this to the interview:

(I was going for professional, but approachable, and my hair was totally AWESOME that day, which must have helped...)

I totally NAILED the interview!  So much so, that they actually called me within about two hours after I left, to offer me the job......but NOT the Infant Room job I interviewed for.  I will actually be teaching TWO-YEAR-OLDS (my least favorite age to work with, besides of course TEENAGERS. Teenagers are the worst).  The pay is mere peanuts for someone with my experience and qualifications, but they offered me a whopping 75% discount for Bobblehead's tuition there!  That's what made it a no-brainer to accept the job, since the SAVINGS in child care costs adds up to $9000/year of income-in-kind, TAX FREE.  Also, the two-year-olds class placement for me is TEMPORARY, since they won't let me be Bobblehead's teacher, and he will be moving into the Two's room in September.  They're not sure where they'll move me in the fall, but they're working on that... frankly I don't care, ANY position will be better than teaching two-year-olds!  I don't mind the diapering, and have an infinite amount of patience for little ones......but two year olds are just so.....INTENSE.  I'll be sure to update you all in a few weeks (I start the job March 1).

Oh yeah, did I mention this whole interview/job offer whirlwind happened on Valentine's Day?  I was worried that the stress of that whole thing could ruin our evening, but not to worry - my teenager Bonehead was one step ahead, ruining our entire WEEK.  He took off again that afternoon after a particularly heated exchange with my husband, and has not been home since.  He has called me twice, and I know where he spent the first couple of nights (not sure where he slept last night).  He is *technically* a 'runaway' right now, but I haven't reported him to police or anything.  I know he is safe (for now) but more than that, I am not rushing to get him home because I don't know how to deal with him any more!  I do know that anything I do to try to exert any kind of control over him will just push him further away.  I'm still gun-shy after what happened with my daughter 4 years ago (she is STILL not speaking to me after I took away her car to get her to stop ditching school in the beginning of her Senior year of high school).  I'm hoping Bonehead will calm down and come home on his own, and since we have a four-day weekend right now, he has plenty of time to do that.  He is such a  pain in the butt most of the time, but when he's NOT being a pain, he is so awesome with his baby brother!  Bobblehead really enjoys running around and playing with him, and Bonehead is the ONLY one who can get him to keep his superhero masks on long enough for a picture.

Back to my Valentine's though.....hubby gave me my gift a day early, a new iPad 2!  My old iPad was pretty beat up after two years of being dropped frequently, so I am thrilled with my gift.  I think hubby also REALLY liked his gift....Pinup photos of me!  

I can't post most of them here, even though they're all 'tasteful'.  I had so much fun taking the photos, and I know that hubby likes the more confident and sexy 'me' that came out of that whole process.  Definitely doing another set for him after I get to my goal weight/size! And as for our ruined evening, we decided on a raincheck to go out for a nice romantic dinner WITH NO KIDS.  Update on that later, too.  (or NOT *wink wink*)

Hope you all enjoyed some sweet lovin this week!  for my milspouse followers, I know many of you wish you could just SEE your man for special days......but while he's out there saving the world, you'll have to settle for posting something like this on your FB to make your civilian friends jealous:

weathering life's storms

Ever since I said I was going to be more honest on here about what my life has been like dealing with hubby's PTSD "issues" I feel like I have had total writer's block.

It's just, I don't know where to begin!  There are these crazy emotional storms, if you will.  Sometimes I can't tell if the storms originate from HIM, or from ME, but either way I never know if they'll be gentle like a spring rain, or sudden but short like a summer thunderstorm, or downright deadly like Hurricane Irene.

Like, a few weeks ago in one of our more bizarre arguments, he actually accused me of stealing/hiding his logo t-shirts.  (regular t-shirts with a logo on them, mostly surf/skate types like O'Neil or Quicksilver, even though he has never surfed OR skated). He has always worn these t-shirts, and when he got home from this deployment he started buying new ones compulsively.  Shopping compulsions are not new for him, but have always been tied to some sort of emotional distress, so I should have seen that as a cry for help way back in Dec/Jan, at least. 

We have issues already with fitting our clothes into our drawers/closets, so by about March I got fed up and said something to him.  We were in Costco and he was looking at the shirts there, excited by the great price, I guess...and I snapped and said, "PLEASE don't buy any more t-shirts until you get rid of some of your old ones!" So he claimed he couldn't FIND any of his white logo t-shirts, and then made a point to complain about this again several more times over the following weeks, usually while buying more shirts. Of course I went home and checked his drawers to make sure I wasn't imagining the t-shirt surplus, and I started having HIM put his clean t-shirts away after I washed and folded them, so he would at least see what I meant about not having room for any more of them. 

I didn't mention it again until I saw him wearing YET ANOTHER new logo shirt, and I asked him if he finally got rid of some of the old shirts.  He completely LOST IT, yelling at me for stealing/hiding his clothes or something, because he can only find 2 white logo t-shirts.  This man has always been incredibly organized, to a point that they probably put HIS picture next to the phrase "anal retentive" in the dictionary....but the day he blew up about the shirts, he had t-shirts in four different drawers (all full, of course...I counted 17 clean white logo t-shirts, plus all the grey, blue, etc and that's not even counting the 7 or 8 that were cycling through the laundry at that point!) and he had only checked one drawer before he panicked that they were all "missing".  That by itself was a serious short-circuit in his usually precise brain, but the delusional stuff.....the idea that I would for some reason sabotage his efforts to freaking GET DRESSED - that only hints at our biggest problem: he thinks I am the enemy.  He is so convinced that I am somehow out to get him, it is no wonder he can't fully trust me, or open up to me, or CONNECT with me.  Why would he want to connect with the enemy?

I can't even begin to describe how painful that is, in and of itself....knowing that he sees me that way.  There are times that I can really tell he is trying, and that maybe he even understands that those views are, in fact, delusional.  But he still treats me as the enemy most of the time.

The craziest part of this is the calm between the storms.  We probably have one major blowup a week (sometimes a fight, sometimes just one-sided yelling) and then 3 to 5 small ones.  Considering his work has him gone for 4 days straight every week and home for a max of 3 days, that's a LOT of storms (especially since we don't even have make-up sex any more). But in between fights, it's almost like nothing is wrong - at least to anyone observing us.  I don't know if we just keep up appearances for the kids' sake, or if maybe we cling to those moments of normalcy, wondering when the next storm will hit and how severe it will be?

Right now another storm is brewing, and I can't tell if I should find a shelter somewhere, or stand there shaking my fist at it, daring it to do it's worst.  I do know that I am strong and prepared and capable, but am so afraid of the BIG STORM coming someday.....the one that no amount of preparedness/prayer/strength/luck can possibly stand up to.  The one that will end me, maybe end us both.

In the meantime, all I can do is try to enjoy this little bit of calm before the storm - these precious few moments that allow me to actually blog about it all.  At 2:30 in the freaking morning.

"Just Wait".....

This video has been making the FB rounds - I first saw it posted by Kristle from Forget The Dog Not The Baby, and was so moved I could only CRY at first.

So, grab some tissues before you hit play!

Now, most of you know that I've been looking for a 'way out' lately. 

Not suicide, but at least Divorce. 

I am struggling SO MUCH with those feelings of "I just can't do this any more" and I want so badly to just go back in time, about a year and a half. Back to when life was about HOPE, anticipation/excitement over the baby on the way.  Life was full of LIFE back then, you know? Back before 'whatever' happened to my husband overseas.  Perhaps the NOT KNOWING what really happened to him or what's really wrong now is the most frustrating part for me....I don't know. 

Anyway, I feel SO MUCH GUILT over wanting to leave him now.  I mean, if he had come back missing a leg or an arm, would I give up and walk out on him?  I certainly hope not!  So I feel like his "issues" (as he calls this.....I call it mental illness, but whatever. Tomato, tomahto, right?) are something that deserves a little extra patience from me, and of course a little benefit of the doubt.  I "SHOULD" wait faithfully for him no matter what, right? In sickness and in health..... So I suck it up, cry A LOT, and go into survival mode way more than I care to admit.

I've had a hard time even blogging about this, much less talking to anyone in person or on the phone, because of my GUILT over feeling things I think I shouldn't FEEL.  But the one thing that struck me most when I watched this awesome video was that I HAVE to talk about this.  About my situation, my feelings, all of it.  If nothing else, I might be able to comfort another person going through the same difficulties.  And maybe, just MAYBE, talking about it will help me deal with things better, too.

Some of what I go through is just beyond words (literally) so I can't talk about it, even with my counselor. Some of it will sound trivial to those who have not lived it, and some of it will sound like I am straight-up lying, it is that unbelievable.  Like the time hubby got pissed off at me and literally abandoned me & the baby at costco with no money and no car.  He eventually came back, of course, but that kind of crap is just NOT normal.  (or is it?)

Either way, I am making a real attempt to speak up more about this craziness, and I hope others who are suffering will do the same.

Also, make sure you visit Kristle's post about this for a list of resources for those needing help.  I wanted to duplicate it here but my blogging time is up for now. 

And please PLEASE pass this video on to someone!  Post it on your facebook, or e-mail it to someone who needs to know she's not alone.  This really needs to be shared.

insomnia

I've been trying so hard not to badmouth my husband on here, or air our dirty laundry, etc.  But so many of you can clearly see how much I am hurting, even if you don't have all the dirty details. If nothing else, I am sure most of you have noticed the lack of real posts on here lately.  Linkups, sure.  Recipes, why not? But actual posts, with CONTENT, substance? Nope. Not lately.  I've just been keeping it all inside (or trying to).

So tonight, my fourth sleepless night this week, I am spilling my guts - in hopes that it will clear my head so I can at least get some sleep.  Or, maybe talking about what I am going through can help someone else to avoid this painful situation?

I'm still skimming over a lot of details, but need to get the general story out.

There has never been physical abuse in this marriage, and there still isn't. But there has been some serious verbal and emotional abuse.  Once, about 8 years ago, the verbal abuse got so bad that I wanted to die.  I was honestly planning my own suicide.  I knew my children would be devastated if I took the cowardly route I was considering, so I didn't follow through with it.  Somehow in a rare moment of clarity, I also realized that my children were being harmed by what they were witnessing.  What was I teaching them by ALLOWING anyone to treat me that way?

So I stood up for myself, told him to get out.  He refused to leave, so I left....sort of. There was this big dramatic scene straight out of an after school special, where he begged me not to go, then physically blocked the door so I couldn't leave, and even refused to move his car so I couldn't get mine out.  I pretended to have a spine, for the sake of my kids, and left ON FOOT. Knucklehead was just a toddler at the time, so I had him in his stroller, and had Bonehead (then about 7 years old) holding on to the handle of the stroller. The few possessions I had managed to grab on the way out the door were stuffed into the little basket underneath.  I didn't have a plan, didn't even have a cell phone, so I headed down the block toward town in search of a payphone, frantically going through a mental list of WHO I could even call.....where would we even go?

And then he caught up with me, all apologies, begging and pleading with me to stay. And, predictably, I caved - but only after getting him to PROMISE me that he would get some counseling, go to some kind of anger management, etc. He didn't actually go to any counseling, at least not at that point.  But the yelling, name calling, and general disrespect he had been showing me did stop. He simply replaced it with other forms of emotional abuse.

And I took it.

It's not fair to characterize him ONLY as this bully, because he is so much more than that. (Duh. Why else would I stay?) He is smart, funny, and of course VERY good looking.  He has this way of looking at me from across a crowded room and making me feel as if I am the only woman in the world - like he is not aware that the rest of the world even exists, when he looks at me like that. He can kiss me in a way that makes me SURE he's some kind of wizard or something, because there is absolute MAGIC in those lips. He makes me feel indescribably good - when he's not making me feel like I am *this big*.




Throughout several more years, as we both grew, changed, and matured some, the mental/emotional abuse diminished. There are a lot of reasons for this, most of which I am only beginning to understand right now.  But when things came to a head 2 years ago, and our marriage was 'over' (or so I thought) I had to really do some deep soul searching.  I had to figure out WHO I was, and why I had let this man drive me crazy (literally) by convincing me that I was crazy.  Sounds funny to say it that way, but that's the most basic way I can break down what he did to me in those years.

I had to heal that 'crazy' before I could do anything else, and the process was (IS) very painful.

When I made the life-changing decision to take him back, to start over again, it was with a lot more knowledge, confidence, and (finally) backbone than I had ever had before.  After months of 'separation' and preparing for a divorce, we both had regrets, but didn't want to waste time looking back - just wanted to move forward, to our future TOGETHER.  We both swore, never again would we hurt each other or let anyone else hurt us. Ever.

So we moved forward, and while I can't claim things were picture perfect, we were at least 'whole'. I was a whole person, HE was a whole person, and we were a whole couple......an US.  He had finally gotten counseling before the big split, and continued it after we got back together. We still had disagreements, but we handled them like grownups, and kept moving FORWARD....to the baby we had both been wanting to have for ten years, among other things.

Nothing is ever perfect, but for about six months we functioned well, we grew and matured even more, and we cherished each other.  Then we conceived Bobblehead the same week that he got orders for deployment. We had about 4 months before his actual departure, but of course there were trainings and workups, so things got a little strained.  But we dealt with it.  Mature, loving adults, facing all of these challenges TOGETHER.

By the time he left for Afghanistan in May 2010, I was convinced that everything we'd been through so far had made us strong enough to get through anything. 
(fun fact about me: I am terminally NAIVE)

Something happened to him over there, and while he fights his way back to some kind of normal, he has reverted to some of the same crappy behavior from years earlier......initially it was just this ridiculously huge invisible wall that he put up between us when he came home in December. But within a couple weeks, I started feeling the way I used to with him, years ago: small. insignificant. nothing.

I fell back into the old 'battered woman' habits of making excuses for him.

"He's still getting used to being home, he just needs time/space/etc"


"He's dealing with all the changes that took place while he was gone - especially the new baby"


"He doesn't KNOW how much he's hurting me, or he would definitely stop."


"I'm just being too sensitive because of my own issues (post partum depression, etc.)"

After a couple of months with no improvement, I begged him to get help for his 'issues'. He still refuses to acknowledge any kind of mental health problems, but he made all the promises, said all the right words.  And still  kept this distance between us.

I sought counseling on my own, because I did NOT want to go back to the darkness I used to live in.  Counseling has helped me, more than anything to be very clear and very specific when asking him for what I want or need.

And still, six months after his return, he won't open up, connect, or really BE here with me.

Can't? Won't? at this point there is little difference, as far as I am concerned. The result is still the same.

I still have this horrible emptiness inside me, and I continue to fill that void with food.  Every pound I gain is a testament to my own misery and weakness....and HIS weakness, in my view.  I keep thinking, if he could only be strong enough to live up to the promises he made in those six months before active duty, and those four months before he actually left....if he could just be strong enough to really COME BACK to us, then things would be OK.

And then I think that *I* need to be the strong one, need to move on and get healthy, inside and out. For me, and for my kids. But I can't find a way to do any of that and still stay in this painful marriage.

I feel so much guilt for even considering LEAVING (or asking him to leave) when he's clearly suffering.  He's fragile, and needs me now more than ever, whether he knows that or not.  It's not HIS fault that he came back so damaged, right? He's made so much progress in his professional life in the past few months...still a long way to go to 'normal' but he is at least FUNCTIONAL.  I still love him every bit as much as I did before he left for that third deployment.....

But is it really OK for me to suffer through this - IN FRONT OF MY CHILDREN?  They see all of this, they know that dad makes mom cry ALL.THE.TIME.  They don't have to know the details of how or why he is torturing me, to see the devastating results.

The burning question that keeps me awake at night, is "What am I teaching my children by allowing anyone to treat me this way?"

Will my boys grow up to be mean, manipulative, abusive husbands?  If they do, I have no one else to blame....it will be MY fault.

music linkup week 18 :Everybody Hurts

The last couple of days here have absolutely SUCKED, so I'm in a funk. Yesterday was about as crappy as it gets (or so I thought!).....My day started with my toilet seat breaking while I was sitting on it.  Yay.  Go fat girls!  When I came downstairs I found the the last of our three new goldfish had died overnight - we have no idea why.  Then I took Bobblehead to his 9 month well-baby checkup, and the doctor has a couple of concerns - first his weight is way below what it should be. The doctor literally told me to start adding BUTTER to his food.  Seriously.  And then he told me he wants x-rays of the baby's hips, he suspects possible hip displaysia.  We already ruled that out when Bobblehead was a month old, using ultrasound, but the doc says there is another kind of hip displaysia that is developmental - meaning it shows up a little later, and he just doesn't like the way the baby's joints feel.  The left hip in particular feels "loose" to him.  GREAT.  If he does have this condition, he'll have to wear a brace for like 6 months or a year. SAD FACE.

On my way home from that appointment, Bonehead called me from the house to tell me he had finally gotten the call we were waiting for, from Sunburst Youth Academy.  Only it wasn't quite the call we were waiting for - see, we wanted them to call with an ACCEPTANCE, not a rejection.  For the second time, Bonehead was NOT accepted into the NG Youth Challenge Academy.  WTF?!?!  I am literally distraught over this, because our 'truce' has been fragile at best lately, and was based solely on the idea that we only have to last a few more weeks til he goes to the academy.  I fully expected to be dropping him off at Los Alamitos Joint Forces Training Base on July 11, and not see him again until his home-pass weekend in September. Then he would go back to the base until the second home pass at Thanksgiving, and graduate in December - and theoretically come back showing at least a little respect.  This kid literally yelled at me for 20 minutes the other day, calling me a "FUCKING CUNT" (sorry, editing that bit really makes it seem less awful, so you get the unedited version).  There's not a whole lot left that *I* can do to bring about his much-needed Attitude Adjustment, and I was counting on Sunburst to do that.  Now I have to go through another 519 days until this kid turns 18, and PRAY that I don't kill him, or myself.  Or that he doesn't kill me, or himself.

Which brings me to today's extra special version of hell:

A social worker showed up at my door today, asking to interview both Bonehead and me.  When she found out that Knucklehead lives here too, she insisted on interviewing him, too.  It turns out that SOMEONE (I have a few ideas about who) called child protective services because they think we're being too harsh on Bonehead.  Seriously?????? I mean, I have felt like my hands are really tied in terms of discipline already, especially because I am now physically AFRAID of my own son.  He stands 6' 2" and I am only 5' 6", for starters.  And his violent outbursts are incredibly frightening.  Thankfully they've mostly been VERBAL lately, not physical, but seriously, I was standing in the kids' playroom while this woman interviewed my kids one by one in my living room (I was not allowed to be there for their interviews) and thinking of the irony, that this social worker is here to protect Bonehead from ME....when *I* am the one who needs protection from HIM!

In the end, she saw what was really going on here, and gave Bonehead a stern warning that he can NOT treat his mother (or anyone else) the way he has been, or she will have him removed from the home for the safety of the rest of the family.  I don't think he took her threat very seriously, but at least there was some shock on his face at the possibility....like maybe, just MAYBE, he actually is starting to appreciate a little bit of what he has here?

*sigh*

So, the allegations will be officially listed as 'unfounded' in the final report, but she has to interview my husband over the phone before she can close the case.  (He is out of town for work this week) When I called him and told him this, he FLIPPED OUT, yelled at me for half an hour, then told me that if HE is going to take any crap for this (like if it will effect his job, etc) then he's just not coming home. Like, EVER.

Thanks so much, Babe, for being there by my side when I need you most. NOT.

So, I'm having a little pity party for myself right now (with WINE, of course) and what better pity party song is there than R.E.M.'s "Everybody Hurts"?

In the end the song actually has a message of hope, but it's just a good self-pity crying song for me. 

Like, giving myself permission to cry instead of being strong, because EVERYBODY hurts. 

Even SuperMoms. 

Even not-so-SuperMoms.

If you have not already linked up, go visit Amber at Goodnight Moon and link up!  I promise, most of the songs won't be this depressing, and they will ALL rock - they always do!

pardon me, but your CRAZY is showing!

OK, before I get into this one, this will be a LONG post (but I promise it will be worth it if you read to the end!)

I've always known that everyone has SOME degree of 'crazy' that's just, well, ingrained in us. I recently observed a woman at my work who seems to have some level of OCD (DISCLAIMER: I am not a licensed medical practitioner of any kind, and am not trained to make any kind of diagnosis!  I just know crazy when I see it.) So, "OCD Lady" has this routine every morning when she arrives at work.  When she parks (far away from any other cars) she sits in her Prius until precisely 8:55 (maybe listening to a radio program?) then she gets out of her car, takes out her efficient little tote that fits perfectly on her shoulder, then walks around her car (apparently checking for scratches or dings?) and takes out her CAR COVER.  It's always perfectly rolled up from her previous afternoon's routine, so she can easily - but CAREFULLY - place it over the top of her little car, and roll it out from back to front, then roll down the fabric over the driver's side, and then walk around to roll down the passenger side fabric.  She then circles the car one more time to make sure all is IN ORDER before she walks inside the school.

That's right, I said SCHOOL.  As in, elementary school.  In super-safe suburbia. Where NOTHING is going to happen to her car, even if she *gasp* parks near other cars, or leaves the car cover off.

Now, the first time I saw this routine, I thought 'what a paranoid bitch!'  Then I began to sympathize a little, and wondered what horrible thing must have happened to her to make her so paranoid. 

Then I began to see my own OCD husband just a little in her crazy routine.  He has this NEED to check, and double check, all the car door handles after he locks it with the little remote. Even though we all hear the 'click' of the lock, and the little beep of the car horn to confirm that the remote has done its job...he is just never satisfied with that.  Everywhere we go, the kids and I have to stand there (sometimes with our hands full, and even in the RAIN) while he walks all around the car and pulls each handle up two or three times to make sure each door is really locked. To me, this is excruciating!  I try so hard to just smile and know that he needs this, but it is just freaking PAINFUL to watch.

And its painful to watch OCD lady sometimes, too.  I mean, PAINFUL.  I felt so sorry for her, for whatever has trapped her in this time-consuming routine. 

But one day last month, it hit me:
she finds COMFORT in this routine. 

I have my own specific routines, things I HAVE to do a certain way, and these routines can calm and comfort me when my life is in chaos.  At first I compared my own routines to OCD Lady's car habit, and thought, 'yeah, but my routines are all about things that MATTER.'  (to me)  Like, I have this thing about my towels not fitting in the linen closet if they're not folded "RIGHT".  It comes from this teeny tiny linen closet that we had in our last house, and now, after 5 years in this house with THREE linen closets, I still have this need to fold the stupid towels 'my way'.  My mother in law folded a load of towels here while I was in the hospital giving birth 9 months ago, and I actually took them OUT of the closet and re-folded them 'the right way'.

Anyway, here's the major epiphany that I wanted to write about:
What matters to me, does not necessarily matter to other people.  And what matters to my husband RARELY matters to me.

I think, when we were dating, and even early in our marriage, we cared about each other's causes simply because we cared about each other.  But now, I find it harder and harder to give a damn about the things he is 'crazy' over, and he rolls his eyes at my obsessions.  We barely ever even watch TV together any more, because our taste in entertainment is so vastly different.  I think this last deployment really highlighted a lot of our differences, because we each had nearly eight months of each being able to do things our own way - and struggling to come back together this time, with all of our OTHER issues (his PTSD, my PPD, and all of our idiosyncrasies, old and new) has just seemed like more trouble than it was worth.

But when it comes down to it, HE matters to me.  And I know I matter to him.  So, we have to find ways to focus (once again) on the things we have in common.  The things we BOTH believe in.  Our kids.  Our faith.  Our home.  OUR FUTURE.

We need to develop some of our own crazy routines TOGETHER, don't you think?  Something comforting, something that's always the same, no matter what.

and I thought I was crazy BEFORE....

WOW.

This week has been IN-FREAKING-SANE.  I'm so happy it's almost over!  I really REALLY need to get a good baby carrier that can handle all my curves because this baby will NOT let me put him down.  At this rate, he will NEVER crawl, but I think I'm OK with that.  I just need a way to get something - anything - finished around here.

Real quick, before mr. demanding wakes up and latches onto me for the next 16 or 18 hours, I have some exciting news!  My pregnancy blog was nominated for the "Top 25 Military Family Blogs" on Circle of Moms!  If you want to vote for me, go to Circle of Moms Top 25 Military Family Blogs

(look for "Does This Baby Make Me Look Fat" when you get there)

If you really love me, you'll vote for me.  And you do love me, right?  :)

Random ramblings

I have so much on my mind these days, but can't seem to pull together one cohesive post.

Instead, I offer you random bits of the chaos in my head at the moment:

My mom had open heart surgery the other day.  Triple bypass.  Now they say her heart has a good 20 or 30 years left in it!  Don't know about the rest of her, though.

Miracle whip is WAY better than mayonnaise.

Holy crap, only 3 1/2 weeks of school left!  Summer vacation sounds good right now.

My birthday was pretty awesome.  Hubby kinda phoned it in (as usual) but my awesome friends made up for it!  Wish they could make up for OTHER areas he's been neglecting *ahem*  Yeah, I totally just went there.  Sorry.  Or maybe I'm not. (?)

Scentsy 'Newborn Nursery' smells freaking AWESOME.  I love it!

Bobblehead has been so incredibly clingy lately - I hope he doesn't wake up before I finish typing my list of random thoughts.

Last week I (finally) cleaned some of the mess in my closet, and put away all of my maternity clothes.  The sadness this brought me made me realize I really DO want another baby - even knowing that will mean more of this crazy lack-of-sleep, lack-of-sex, get-me-off-this-fucking-ride feeling.

Bonehead has his interview today at the youth academy I am trying to get him into.  I want him to get in so he can better himself, but if I am being honest, I really want it so I can get RID of his rebellious butt for 5 months.  Especially after the hell he put me through yesterday!  I almost called the cops again...in fact, would have, if he had not tried to take the phone away from me while I was trying to dial.  What am I going to do if he does NOT get into the academy???

Wine should really be served with every meal.  Is there a breakfast wine?

Jarhead AKA Hubby is spiraling in depression again - and my efforts to help him only seem to make it worse.  I keep HOPING he will follow through and get counseling, as he promised.  He lied to me last week and said he is already IN counseling.

Knucklehead's basketball season is almost over - still can't believe I signed up to COACH.  What was a I thinking???? And yet, we're doing really well.  Fourth place of eight teams, and all three of the teams ahead of us are A-MAZ-ING.  Knucklehead seems to be holding back a little in games, maybe he doesn't like me being 'Coach Gaile' instead of 'Mom'?  *sigh* Only one more game left in the regular season, and then we go into playoffs.

I've really gotta hit the yard sales for some baby stuff.  Which reminds me, I am looking for a used Ergo Baby Carrier - anyone have one for sale?

DUH.  Mimosas!  Champagne + Orange Juice.  Breakfast wine. Sometimes I am a freakin GENIUS.

But most of the time I am the crazy-chaotic-unproductive-rambling-hot-mess you see here.

square one.

Lately things have been REALLY up-and-down.  More than usual.  We've had some rough days and some good days, and a WHOLE LOTTA 'blah' days.

Hubby's most recent 'episode' got me really in a funk and I've been trying to pull myself out of it for a couple days. (I don't know if episode is the right word, but I don't know what else to call it when he zones about responsibilities and throws all his time and energy into things that seem unimportant to me...but he is just DRIVEN to do them...even to the detriment of others or himself)

It doesn't help that I am caring for a super-sick baby, who was nice enough to cough and sneeze all over me, so now I am sick, too. (why did I even BOTHER with a clean shirt this morning???)

The good thing about having a sick baby is that he wants to be held constantly right now.  Not very good for getting anything DONE around the house, but good because I just love snuggling him.  And holding him makes it pretty hard to type anything, so I have been catching up on READING everyone else's blogs instead of just logging on, getting my rant out, and then logging back off.  Sometimes I have to be reminded to just shut up and listen, you know?  I've been slacking on the 'reading' part of this blog-relationship that I have with you all.

Anyway, I saw a post from a milspouse who just started a deployment, and she wrote about saying goodbye to her hubby.  I started thinking back to the 'goodbye' I had with my hubby last year....the last time I saw him as himself.  That probably sounds overly dramatic to someone who has not lived with the mental/emotional issues we're dealing with right now, but from my point of view, it's pretty darned accurate.  He literally has not been 'himself' for even a single day since he returned over four months ago.  There is more and more of him coming through all the time, but it's still not HIM. (yet)

So I went back through my own archives and started reading this blog from the beginning.  I tried to read it from his perspective - how would he react to this statement, or would he see me differently or judge me for revealing that weakness?  As I got to the part, almost a year ago now, where I said goodbye to him, I realized something shocking.  Call it an epiphany, or a paradigm shift, or a litghtbulb moment.

I saw, through my own blog, that I have not been myself in a long time, either!  I can't pinpoint exactly when I changed, but I am definitely starting to sort out the old me from the new me, and to identify things I like and don't like about the new me. (if you missed yesterday's post, I definitely DON'T like the new BITCHY side of me).

Now I feel like this knowledge about the changes in ME is somehow the 'key' to getting US back..... if only I can locate the darned lock.

Going back to the beginning of this blog was just the catalyst for me to now go back to the VERY beginning.  When we met, when we started dating, when I proposed (yeah, that's right *I* proposed to him).  When we had Knucklehead, and when we finally made it legit by getting married when Knucklehead was two.  When we bought this house.  When we nearly gave up on this marriage a couple years ago, and when we miraculously found each other again.  THERE...somewhere in that timeframe, when we had our second 'beginning', that has to be where I can find the secret to getting us back.  We've done it before, and while it was HELLISH, I know we're strong enough to do it again.

I don't want to revisit that pain, but it might be the only way to get through this new pain we're suffering from every day.  So, as I work through some of this (can't WAIT to tell my therapist about this 'breakthrough'!) I may or may not do some flashback blogging.  Might share some of this painful story with you all.  Please bear with me if I do, because it is not an easy story to tell......

another meltdown

Last night SUCKED.  We're still getting over it, actually.

I had pre-made an enchilada bake for dinner, and I put it in the oven to warm for a few minutes before church, figuring I could turn the oven off as we walked out the door and it would continue warming while we were gone.  (We go to church Sunday evenings) At the last minute I found out that hubby was not going with us, so I set a timer for half an hour, and asked hubby to listen for it and turn it off.

No problem, right?

Well when I got home from church the house smelled kind of.....scorched.  I expected to pull this out of the oven:

But instead I found that hubby had already removed THIS from the oven:

I may or may not have cried.....and eventually may or may not have yelled at hubby, using some very colorful language.

Oh yeah, did I mention that my father-in-law was here for the whole debacle? Fortunately I had all the fixings for tacos, so we had a yummy (late) dinner. 

NOT a good night. 

To make things worse, my attempt at an apology for losing my temper only caused hubby to lose HIS temper, so we fought for over an hour after everyone was in bed.  I'm pretty sure FIL heard every word.

It's amazing how something as simple stupid as not turning off the oven can ruin everyone's night.  And since hubby left for work this morning for the week, it kinda ruined our whole week.

**edit: I failed to mention that the reason hubby did not hear the timer is that he went outside and got distracted by the weeds, which he then went manic on....and when he came back through the garage he noticed bird poop on his new car, so of course he HAD to wash the car, right then and there. SIGH.**

Music Linkup, week 8

Have you linked up with Amber at Goodnight Moon yet?

This week's music post is dedicated to Jessica, over at {Mis}Adventures of an Army Wife.  If you missed the story earlier this week, Jessica has been struggling with some serious emotional trauma, and she made plans to take her own life & wrote a goodbye post/AKA suicide letter on her blog.  Thankfully she *IS* alive and getting help, and we are all praying she will make a full recovery.

Since we've opened the topic of Suicide, I have an interesting story to tell...but go ahead and click 'play' first so you can enjoy this song while you read:

If you've kept up with my blog, you know that my husband returned from deployment four months ago, and has not been himself ever since.  I am pretty sure he has PTSD, but he refuses to get diagnosed/treated.  About 3 1/2 weeks ago, he received a phone call out of the blue from a former colleague - a guy he hasn't seen in at least 8 years, maybe more like 10 years.  This friend asked my hubby to put together a funeral detail for him......in other words, the guy was suicidal.  They talked on the phone for HOURS (odd for my hubs because he hates talking on the phone) and by the time they hung up, his friend was feeling better, and agreed to call and check in with Jarhead the next day.  They've talked a few more times since then, and his friend seems to have a better perspective on things now.

The significant part about this incident is not that hubby talked him down; it is that, within a few hours after that initial phone call, I began to see little bits of *MY HUSBAND* showing through.  Somehow, being needed (by someone besides me or the kids) seemed to really pull him out of his shell.  Or maybe it was a 'mirror' for hubby, who had hinted at some suicidal thoughts of his own a few weeks earlier.  Perhaps he didn't like what he saw in that 'mirror' and was suddenly motivated to change?

Either way, it has brought about some serious changes here. 

We are still not in the clear, but hubby (finally) returned to work later that week, after three months of being at home.  [he is a reservist, and his civilian employer encouraged him to burn through some of his accrued vacation time before coming back to work, since it will be tough to get any vacation approved now that he is back on the schedule].  He started working out at the gym every day, like he used to.  He even jokes around with me sometimes, the way he used to.  The intimacy thing has gotten a little better, too. 

We still have a long way to go, but I am cautiously optimistic about the outcome now.  I have felt so lost and alone through this whole process, and so many times I myself was feeling hopeless and helpless, and had those awful dark thoughts, imagining what it would be like to end it all. 

Now I have more hope,

and am SO HAPPY

that I found the strength to

"Hold on for one more day"

a hundred or so times.

If you are also in that dark, desolate place that Jessica is fighting her way back from, PLEASE, just hold on.  Call someone, maybe even someone you haven't talked to in years.  If nothing else, EMAIL ME and we can exchange numbers and talk about it.  You are NEVER truly alone.

Hold on for one more day.