Bravest Woman in the World

There are some days I like being in the military and some days that I do. I am getting more and more tired of certain things, because my time is growing to a close, but I can deal. The first five years of enlistment wasn't so bad, minus a few people. Then I made E-5 and got the bright idea to reenlist. It made me worry a little bit, because the first step to retirement is reenlisting, right? Honestly, though, I do not think I'm very military like and while I do not regret joining at all, I do not think this is career material for me. Plus, the hubby wants to stay in and I'd like one stable parent at home instead of alternating deployment schedules (yeah-that rocks).

Either way, this weekend is one of those weekends I will not miss at all when I'm a civilian again. Sure duty comes with the territory, but I challenge anyone to find a military member who likes standing duty. Yeah, thought so.

I was scheduled to stand an eight hour watch (standard watch) on Sunday right before my 10 hour shift. Oh, count my lucky stars! Like I said, I deal with it like everyone else deals with it. We've all been there, done that.

Then, my first class tells me I have watch Friday night from midnight (so technically that would be this morning) until 8 a.m. Fabulous.

So my only real day off is Saturday. My birthday is Tuesday and I wanted to go out some with the fam. Family day fun! Woot!

Except, not really. I ask Wonderful Husband of Mine if he wanted to do anything today. [Okay, side note: I am not very specific in asking for things. I tend to beat around the bush and expect him to mind read. Sorry, I'm a girl and in this category, I fall victim to said circumstance.] I expect an I'm-not-sure-honey-whatever-you-want answer. You know...since the only real family time we'd get this weekend is today and we see each other for 5 minute glimpses every once in a while during the week.

What I got was, "Well, I want to hook up the tv to the speakers [the awesomeness that is our tv and extra stuff that I bought him for father's day] and get it all working soon. But what I want to do and what we will do aren't the same thing."

I try to throw darts with my eyes. I wonder if he feels Death's icy hand on his neck.

He then quickly suggests I take the kids to the park.

I decide to do one better. I am going to treat myself and my kids today! I will be the Bravest Woman in the World and not just go out to eat, but go shopping at the mall (and leave with stuff) AND go to a movie. Score one for Team Mommy.

But this will only works if my kids cooperate.

I am destined to fail, but I am going to outrun my destiny!

First, we went to Texas Roadhouse. My kids tore up the bread and apple sauce, but refused any and all other food. You know what, I didn't even care. I had myself a whole 8 oz. sirloin that was delicious...AND I ate it while it was still hot! Tell me that is not impressive! Afterwards, I treated the kids to ice cream. Big Man kept dropping his chocolate coated ice cream cone on the table top. I'm sure there are diseases unknown to science on that table top, but you know what? Five...second...rule! And sure Chunky kept dashing out to the parking lot just trying to get ran over, but hey, he lives, so it's all good.

I don't know if I was insane or just determined, but after that, we were into the car seats again (with some minor fussing) and headed to the mall. We hit, not one, not two, but three stores in that mall. The first was a kids clothing store-okay, yeah, it's not for me, but I love buying my kids new clothes. So sue me. I bought the two most adorable shirts for 50% off! Then I went to the Disney store....a store I have never braved before. There's a poor lady sitting there, restocking the humongous pile of Disney plush characters. It looks awesome, but it also looks like it's taunting everyone to just dive into it. I mean, I wanted to dive in. It's like a huge pile of leaves. You just HAD to. Oh and did my kids take that challenge! That poor lady was restocking as fast as her arms could put those plush toys back! She was on one end placing them back in their assigned position. They were tearing down plush dolls down as fast as their little hands could. I felt bad and I was helping her out, but finally I just had to leave the abandoned Mickey Mouse, Handy Manny, and Donald Ducks on the floor and drag my kids out. I did end up buying Big Man his first gun [relax-it was a squirt gun...two to a pack, how awesome is that!?].

And then lastly, I headed to a friggin' shoe store! For me! *excited squeal* I bought some sandals for me. Big Man was running around with his squirt gun in a circle and I was so scared he was going to trip somebody. He almost plowed into one of the sales associates. I hadn't bought my pair of flip flops yet, so they just looked over at me with the quickest of looks like, This woman has lost her damn mind bringing these kids into this nice of a shoe store to an even quicker, Oh, we're here to help, not judge...these children are precious, please buy our shoes. I didn't care. I bought shoes. Sandals, even. Lovely.

And of course, no evening of splurges would be complete without a movie. A movie by my lonesome with two kids ages three and younger. I am out of my damn mind. It was Shrek in 3D. It was pretty cute. As soon as it started Chunky started getting irritated and fussing and crying. Oh, Lord Jesus, please help me. Of course he's going to start crying now. People are trying to watch a movie. I couldn't get off the hook this easy! So I tried nursing him and was swapping him from side to side. He kept playing the nursing acrobatics game. Soooo not having that. Of course, what do I do? And then Jesus heard my prayer! Chunky fell asleep. Yes! Big Man was stoked about the movie. He kept yelling and laughing his little head off. I kept him as quiet as I could, but you know what? If someone watching a kid movie was mad about a kid making some extra commentary they can just go take a hike. I thought it was adorable. "Mommy! What's going to HAP-pen?" "Hahahahahaha! Mommy, this is fu-fu-fu [uh-oh] funny! [oh, phew]." Tell me that is not exceedingly cute!

So, yes, I am the bravest woman in the world today. Not only did I survive a trip to a restaurant, the mall and the movies all in one night (and in succession!), but we all had a great time!

And now my kids are passed out, so onto Facebook land! Goody!

It's All Mommy's Fault

Kids are like sponges. And sponges are gross after a while, so even that suits my kids well. Leave them alone long enough and they will be disgusting before long. Can you please NOT pick your nose at the dinner table! It's disgusting! *giggle* No it's not! *sigh* And then let's not talk about Chunky's infatuation with the murkiest of mud puddles. There are cigarette butts floating in that one! *swap, swap, swap, splash!* Ahhh...

But, I digress.

Big Man learned a new word recently. He knew it was a bad one, so he decided to inform us during dinner at a restaurant.

Big Man: We don't say......[mumbling]

Me: What?

Big Man: We don't say...uck.

Me: (suspiciously) We don't say what?

Big Man: We don't say f#$%, Mommy. We don't say that.

Hubby: No! Where did you hear that!!? That's a bad word! (Getting progressively louder as he talks)

Big Man: instantly in tears and crying

Hubby: Oh! No, no, no! You're not in trouble! It's okay! That's just a bad word, baby.

Me: It's alright, it's alright. Where did you hear that from?

Big Man: slowly looks up at me and then back at his lap.

Me: Baby, where did you hear that from? At school? Did Mommy say it? Did Daddy say it?

Big Man: You did, Mommy.

Oops. Nuh-uh.

Yep. I suck.

I should do what a good friend of mine does and curse made up stuff. For example, if she stubs her toe it's, " God Bless America!

So I thought I'd do all parents out there a favor and make a list of appropriate and just as fun "expression" to "express" our frustrations. Enjoy!

• God Bless America I had to add that one. So sue me, El! I thought it was good. And now you're in my blog, so there.


• Fudge muncher!


• Holy shish-ca-bob


• What the frick-frickity-frick? You can shorten that, I just think frick is funny--yeah, I'm a dork.


• Flock off!


• lint licker-ahahahaha! I love that orbit commercial. Heh.


• Oh sweet Jeebus


• Oh Mylanta


• You mother lover!

Okay, my extraordinary genius has fallen short and that's all I can think of right now (and google), so there you are. That should keep you busy for a little while. And hopefully prevent dialogues like the one above. If you can think of anything else to add, let me know. I can edit these babies, you know. That's the power of the blog. So let me know!

Stab to the Heart

I heard from someone somewhere that having children is like having your heart walking out in the world. I think that's pretty accurate. Lord knows that my child getting hurt is worse for me than them-I think, anyway. There have been plenty a times that my kids have been calmed down and happily playing, while I'm still fighting back tears (but those might be completely different posts, so I'll stop there).

For those that don't know, I am currently working nights. Horrible schedule. I see them like every other day at best. I absolutely hate it and I think my kids are taking it worse than me. Especially Big Man. He has been especially acting out at daycare (or school as we like to call it. Makes him feel like the Big Man he is). He gets We Care reports (or really, Your Kid May be the Reason We Quit So Hurry Up and Start Parenting reports). Usually when he feels frustrated he takes it out on the other kids and hits. Kids hit and bite and think it's funny to show their butts to each other (wth?), but they always get a We Care report.

My husband is usually the one that picks the kiddos up, because he works during the day. So when he gets told that Big Man has hit one of the kids in his classroom he tells him, "Hey, I am really sad that you hit your friends." or "It makes me sad to hear that when I pick you up." or some sort of variation.

So over dinner earlier today my husband starts telling me what my beautiful son told him a few days prior. Big Man is in his car seat and they've rolled into a parking spot. Hubby, "So, you ready for school today?" Big Man, [eyes huge, lips in a pout, hands grabbing at the car seat straps] "Daddy? I make you happy?"

Insert knife to heart, twist.

Hubby's eyes get huge, fill with tears and he's scrambling to find the words to tell our darling son that he is the happiest man, because he has our children.

I teared up when I heard that. I can just imagine being asked that by my 3-year-old.

It's crazy how they tug at those heart strings! Big Man has obviously gotten over that and was content with the answer. Days later, Daddy is still tearing up thinking about it! Gah.

The Hubster's Brushes with Death-#2

I didn't think I'd have anything else to write so quickly about the Hubster's Brushes with Death, but I think the Hubby may be a slow learner.

You ever have one of those days (or nights with me, since I work in the bestest squadron ever and they hold onto us all night-but I digress) that just is NOT-YOUR-DAY-AT-ALL. Some days you kind of get a warning, but this day it was like a big slap in the face.

It was 1 a.m.-ish, I can't remember exactly, and I was all like holyfriggincow, are we really leaving this early? So everyone bolts and I'm grabbing my stuff. *sharp inhale* Where the heck are my keys?

And of course, I panic. It's really a super long story, but to make this shorter and more readable I'll put it in a nutshell:

Gloria misplaces keys, freaks out, retraces steps, tears shop apart, cannotfindherfrigginkeys!! I even went out to our large dumpster to see if it were at all possible to go digging through it and find our trash bag. Hey, it could happen. I am near the brink of losing my mind, so those keys could have ended in a trash bag. It wasn't, but that's ok. I didn't feel like wading through disgustingness.

So they are lost. L-O-S-T. I call Hubster and he's half asleep. Thankfully he doesn't get angry, because by now he's sick of me losing stuff. I swear, it's a hobby of mine.

Then I wait until morning...until 5:30 in the morning for him to give me the spare car key. I drive home, crash, get up and go to work. I lost an entire day with my kids, because I was stupid.

Worst part ever was that they were in the freaking shop. I mean, it's good, those are expensive keys that are all fancy and have that anti-theft feature (read: expensive). Still, that's depressing news to hear.

So, Hubster comes around and I have to give him back our house key and he sees that I am in a bit of a foul mood. He then asks, "What's wrong."

That's the wrong thing to ask.

She-hulk was about to break loose.

Me: What's wrong? What's wrong!? Hmm...let's think. I lost my keys, spent all night AT WORK waiting for you to get here. I'm freaking tired as hell. I lost an entire day with the boys AND my phone isn't working now. And it's all my fault, because they were in the shop, which means I was just an idiot and didn't look good enough. What could be wrong?"

Hubby: [eyes wide] Uh. Ah. Well, at least you found them, that's good. You saved us a lot of money. And you'll get other days with the boys. It's not the end of the world.

Me: [glares]

Hubby: [sweating] And we can always buy you a new phone. Whatever you want.

Me: I have to go to work.

Hubby: I love you!

Me: *sigh* I love you, too. Bye.

Note of advice to all of you men out there: if something went wrong in your wife's night, day, whatever...never, never ask what is wrong. If you forget, just wait. She will eventually remind you.

Otherwise you might find yourself close to death!...again.

The Hubs Brushes with Death #1

I love my husband to death. Really, I do. He's funny, quirky and an all around good guy. Plus, he's tall...so any problems reaching the loaf of bread in the top most shelf of the pantry. Not a problem--unless he's deployed and that's a different story.

Still my husband suffers from a disease that a lot of other men out there suffer from. I'm not sure if it's at a 100%, but close enough. It's rarely fatal, but it gets them pretty damn close to meeting their maker. I guess it's all up to how patient their wives are. Either way, that disease is called Foot-In-Mouth Syndrome and it is very serious.

These are in no particular order, but they are all true.

#1

Background: I was about 7 months pregnant with baby #2. I'm not humongous yet, but I'm pretty big. I'm military so that means I need a maternity uniform for whatever inspection is coming up. Because of the massive amount of fabric (I could probably make sails out of them!) and other reasons, I'm sure, those uniforms are expensive! And hardly ever worn. My advice to anyone: try and find someone who already has a set before purchasing brand new ones. I did. My friend is about my height, but she's definitely much slimmer than I am.

Me: Oh! My inspection is tomorrow. I had better go and try on my uniform to make sure it fits, because [my friend] is small.

Hubby: *snort* Yeah...and you're not! [starts to laugh then stops a few seconds in with a terrified look on his face]

Me: *eyes well up and I immediately leave the room*

Me: (thought process) I am this huge, disgusting whale of a woman to him! I didn't think I was THAT big. Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod, what is he going to think of me in another two months?? *sob*

Hubby: Oh! I didn't mean it like that! Really! I didn't! *pause* Look at me. I'm sorry! It's kind of funny, right? You smiled, right?

Me: *look up at husband and tears fall*

Hubby: Oh my God! I made you cry! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean you were fat, I just mean that she's a lot smaller than you.

Me: *eyes widen*

Hubby: ...I mean, you're just bigger--not bigger--she's just really skinny...I mean, you aren't as skinny now as she was--or she is--I-I need to stop talking, don't I?

Me: *cry more and go downstairs*

Hubby was smart enough to stay away. Note to all men with pregnant ladies in their lives: do not ever mention the words fat, big, huge, or anything else that may make that lovely lady in your life think of something big. Good words are: I love you, you're glowing, you're beautiful, etc. Nothing about size should EVER be mentioned around a pregnant woman. We feel big and bloated and like a beach whale most of the time anyway. Don't rub it in.

#2

Background: Links with #1 story. He later went to the store and came home with a surprise.

Hubby: Hey, baby! I got a surprise for you! *smiles wide*

Me: What did you get?

Hubby: *pulls out HUGE package of chocolate*

Me: [still offended from earlier] Chocolate!!? Why!? So I can get even bigger!?

Hubby: [face falls and he sets down the chocolate] N-no. I just-I wanted to make it up to you.

Me: With FOOD? [leaves room]

I think I saw him crack open a beer or two later that night. What can I say? Hormones.

#3

Background: I was talking about what I looked like post-baby...as in, just left the hospital and the first few weeks, post-baby.

Me: I don't think I looked THAT bad after I had Big Man. I felt fat, but I didn't have a huge belly or anything.

Hubby: Well, you definitely couldn't have walked down a run way or anything, but yeah...you didn't look too bad.

Awww, thanks honey. Fist meet face.

#4

Me: Aghhh...why is my house always so messy? There are dishes everywhere.

Hubby: Well, woman, you need to keep doing the dishes. They're not going to wash themselves, you know.

He was definitely joking here...still, I was not in a joking mood and was considering throwing said dishes at his face.

#5

The time he made me wait for a whole freaking year...for a car...a useful car that I SORELY needed...one whole freaking year. And then when they didn't have the exact color I wanted he said we could always wait a few days. No, thanks. I'll take the white one.

#6

Chasing down a crotch rocket in his TRUCK after being cut off by said crotch rocket. [Note: His road rage has gotten muuuuch better. Had it not, it may have ended in divorce.]

#7

Background: At this point, since Big Man was born he was dropped off at daycare exclusively by me. Of course, if I had duty or something then the hubby would HAVE to drop him off; however, that was few and far between. Either way, hubby had just gotten back from deployment and had been home for a little while. I could not drop off Big Man anymore due to my working hours and whatever else.

Hubby: [after a few weeks of having to drop off Big Man] Ahhh...man, I wish it were back to how it was and we could alternate dropping off the baby.

Me: What? Alternate?

In what universe was he living on? Alternate? You mean, I, myself, could drop off Big Man every single day, except maybe a day that I had watch--woah, what a freaking break. I have done this for his whole life and you do this for a few weeks and are suddenly tired of it?

I was seriously contemplating pushing him out of the moving car. 'Oh, what's that officer? No, I have no idea how he ran over himself. I am plainly in the passenger side of the vehicle. Why didn't I stop the car? Well, I didn't want to interrupt a good thing...'

Don't get me wrong, my husband has lots of good features. He's funny, he likes to talk, he's tall and handsome. He's awesome to hang out with and a great Dad. That does not save him, however, from Foot-In-Mouth Syndrome. Ah, well. He can't be perfect, right?

A Toast to Moi

I won't say I'm a die hard fan of wine, but I will say it's pretty yummy. My favorite is the dessert bubbly wine that I buy from Sam's. That is one delicious bottle. I'm sure I could drink the whole thing. In fact, that seems like a wonderful goal for an evening...

Right now I'm sipping from a champagne flute (ha!) a wine of the white variety. (Who really needs the right cup anyway? I'd drink wine from a coffee mug and that's the truth.) I'm much more fond of red wines, with their earthy charm, but this will do. I was tasting the tartness and realized, "Oh, it tastes kind of like a grape." I'm tired...leave me alone.

For those a little worried about why I am drinking a glass of wine (by myself) before 9 a.m., never fear. I didn't get off until after 7 a.m., so right now is technically my evening. If I were to indulge in a glass at dinner time, I'd be drinking on the job. A big no-no.

I decided I needed a toast, anyway. After being gone for about 15 hours, I am at home, pretty tired. Yet I stay up and put away the top half of the dishes, I throw away some of the recycling (hey, I have to do my part!) and fold what seems like an incredible amount of laundry (forget that I still have mountains left). Yes, I rock. My house may still be dirty, but damn it, I try.

So here's to a toast to me. For still trying to pick up the house after a looooong day at work.

And for me actually opening the wine bottle. I have one of those nifty cork getter outer thingies that are supposed to be soooo easy. Well, if you're this sleep deprived, it's not so easy. I pretty much hacked off most of the top of the cork, because I started it wrong. After much fanagaling and thinking I should quit and just take a few shots out of the tequila bottle that is already open, I get it threaded in right. And that little baby slides right out. Yay!

So cheers. Might as well, right?

This Means What?

You know old sayings. I'm sure you've heard a few growing up. I have. In English and Spanish. Imagine how confused I am. Anyhow, have you ever stopped to think about it? What the hell do those things mean?

I have decided to ponder a bit. Bear with me.


Early to bed and early to rise makes a man wealthy and wise.
-Okay, really? I didn't know people were paid to sleep...although, the wise thing makes sense...at least, that's some hope for me. There has GOT to be a reason why I have been half out of my mind recently. All the absent-mindedness...sleep deprivation. I knew it.

People in glass houses shouldn't throw stones.
-I've never actually seen a glass house. That's a lie...wasn't there one in '13 Ghosts' or whatever that movie was called? Except that house had homocidal ghosts, so I would have been doubley careful in that house.

There's more than one way to skin a cat.
-I am sad for the amount of cats it took to figure that out. I can't even imagine how else to skin a cat...or anything else for that matter.

The journey of a thousand miles must begin with a single step.
-Hopefully, for me, it starts with checking my baggage...unless the words 'Road Trip' is in it and kids are not part of the equation.


Those are the only ones I can think of. It's 5:22 a.m., though, so sleep deprivation may make this blog (maybe all of them-hmmm) a little incoherent. It's alright, though. I'm having fun with it. I hope you like reading it!

Letter to My Husband

To the Love of My Life,

I just want to write you a short-or maybe long, I don't know yet...so it's a surprise!-note about how much I love you and sort of explain things. I am not really sure what you expected of me way back when...you know, when you proposed, when I was a saner, skinnier and kid-less version of myself.

There are a few things I want to clarify:

First of all, anything cooked at home should be considered home-made. After all, it was made in the home, right? That's good enough of a definition for me! So all those hamburger helper meals...made from home with love for you and my little ones.

TO SETTLE THIS FOR ONCE AND FOR ALL....I do not and have never snored. If I did, then for all of your threats, you'd already have a recording. And you don't. So I win. Fin.

I'd probably shave my legs more often, but I have these two little growths called Our Sons that occupy a lot of my free time. But I figure that I can always start styling it. I'm sure grooming them will be easier than shaving every day. I could always wax, but I'm afraid of the pain! Seriously, plucking my eyebrows makes me cringe and my eyes water. Eventually I'll figure something out. Maybe I'll buy some silky smooth pants I can wear to bed so you won't have to worry about the "in-between" stage.

I may be a little crazy, but it's your fault. I'm not really sure how, but I'll figure it out soon. I swear I was a normal person at one point in my life. I think the only thing that changed was the addition of children. That complicated things very quickly. So basically, I blame you. But hey, it puts a spark into our marriage, doesn't it? That's important. We don't want this thing to fall flat.

I get mad at you daily. For what? I don't know. Depends. I'm just sayin'. You know my temper. Usually it's small things. By just FYI: I like when you stay near me when I'm mad. I want you to shut up, sit next to me and let me yell at you in my head. Then I'm done. I don't know why, but I do. Again, look at the above paragraph.

And I love you. You gave me my boys. You gave me a family. You gave me your love and your life. We're a team. You are my best friend, for real. All I want is for whenever I do something weird that may or may not get you mad to think, "Oh yeah, she's crazy..." Don't say it out loud, though. I'm in denial.

Love,

Your Wifey

P.S. (Totally unrelated) With the work schedule going how it is, I'm pretty sure our wine collection will start depleting. Just so you know. I may start tomorrow...or rather, today.

Happiness Starts with an 8 lbs. Package

I do not believe in love at first sight, except when a mother first looks at her newborn baby. I have loved my children from the moment I found out I was pregnant. From that moment, I worried and rejoiced about everything. And since then, that's pretty much what the journey has been like.

So I decided to write a not quite complete list of why I love being a mom. :)


(Not in any particular order)

1. My Chunky's kisses-enough said.

2. Big Man saying, "Mommy, you're funny looking!" compliments of Daddy.

3. Chunky's fascination of toilet water. It's horrible, yet funny at the same time. I mean, really? The toilet? C'mon, boy!

4. When Big Man comes over with his newest work of art and has to show me all of the suns and people he has drawn on the paper.

5. The way my kids shout "Mommy!" and run to me when I come home from work.

6. Big Man's bear hugs.

7. Playing in the "sprinkles" (I bought a little sprinkler hose for some summer fun!) in our backyard.

8. First words.

9. Breastfeeding and the million good memories I'll have from that. :)

10. Seeing Big Man's face when I let him stir the muffin mix or pancake mix.


Sure, I can't really shave my legs all of the time, but that's alright. It might be a little bad, though, because sometimes the Hubs will say, "You know...I like it better when your [leg] hair is longer, because it's not prickly anymore." *sigh* At least he puts up with me. lol There is a list of why I love him, but that's another post. :)

If there's anything I got right in this world, it's becoming a mother. There's a lion that was born inside when my children were born. I put them before everything and love them with a fierceness. It's a scary thing-being a mother. It's like having your heart walk out on the street, all exposed. I love it all. :) Even the art work that Big Man left all over our walls. Hey, he was just exploring his creativity outside of the [paper] box.