Today is my dear friend Mary's birthday. I call her Mar si dotes (after the song Mar si dotes and does eat oats and little lambs eat ivy)...for the longest time she thought I had made this up...I wish I could say I was that original...but I am not...and just think of all the royalties I would be raking in....anyways I love celebrating her special day with her. On her 50th birthday I had a free trip to Hawaii and took her. We spent a week enjoying the sights and sounds of Hawaii. Her sweet hubby Bill kicked in and sent us to the big island to see Mt. Kilaua. It was awesome. Today, I don't have a free trip to give her...but I am taking her to Lafayette, AL to the Main Event (a really cool spa) and we are having Aveeda Pedicures. How fun does that sound? We don't have a whole lot of time together today because she works every Tuesday and Thursday nights at the hospital as a Rad Tech and tonight is her night on, so we will have to cram in a wonderful few moments of being pampered. I can't wait to go! There is nothing I love more than a good pedicure...unless it is a really good massage. Now that is total luxury. If I ever when the lottery....it will be massages and pedicures every day....or at least every week. I have to tell you my Mary story before I sign out. Mary and I both teach at BRHS. She is a Special Ed Science teacher and we were both hired the same year. During a bomb threat or fire drill....I don't remember which one....Mary hung her foot in a storm drain and the school, fell and broke her ankle. I sat with her until they were able to move her. We became best buds from that day on. We have children the same age, we love the same things, we are both transplants to the area, and I would have to say she is the closest thing I have to a sister. Her sister lives in Bangor, ME so they don't see each other a lot and Amanda lives in the Valley...but works in Raleigh....so I don't see her a lot...so it is like the old Sonny and Cher song..."I got you babe!" I don't believe in reincarnation...but if I did...Mary and I knew each other in another life. We complement each other nicely....like Mutt and Jeff. I am the tall one...she is the short one. Soulmates are not always easy to come by in life...and when you do it is a joyous thing. Mary is mine...and if we ever are not friends...I will have to kill her....she knows too much about me. Of course...I know just as much about her. LOL!...But then...that is what friends are for! Happy Birthday Mary and I hope we celebrate many many more!
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Happy Birthday Mary!
Today is my dear friend Mary's birthday. I call her Mar si dotes (after the song Mar si dotes and does eat oats and little lambs eat ivy)...for the longest time she thought I had made this up...I wish I could say I was that original...but I am not...and just think of all the royalties I would be raking in....anyways I love celebrating her special day with her. On her 50th birthday I had a free trip to Hawaii and took her. We spent a week enjoying the sights and sounds of Hawaii. Her sweet hubby Bill kicked in and sent us to the big island to see Mt. Kilaua. It was awesome. Today, I don't have a free trip to give her...but I am taking her to Lafayette, AL to the Main Event (a really cool spa) and we are having Aveeda Pedicures. How fun does that sound? We don't have a whole lot of time together today because she works every Tuesday and Thursday nights at the hospital as a Rad Tech and tonight is her night on, so we will have to cram in a wonderful few moments of being pampered. I can't wait to go! There is nothing I love more than a good pedicure...unless it is a really good massage. Now that is total luxury. If I ever when the lottery....it will be massages and pedicures every day....or at least every week. I have to tell you my Mary story before I sign out. Mary and I both teach at BRHS. She is a Special Ed Science teacher and we were both hired the same year. During a bomb threat or fire drill....I don't remember which one....Mary hung her foot in a storm drain and the school, fell and broke her ankle. I sat with her until they were able to move her. We became best buds from that day on. We have children the same age, we love the same things, we are both transplants to the area, and I would have to say she is the closest thing I have to a sister. Her sister lives in Bangor, ME so they don't see each other a lot and Amanda lives in the Valley...but works in Raleigh....so I don't see her a lot...so it is like the old Sonny and Cher song..."I got you babe!" I don't believe in reincarnation...but if I did...Mary and I knew each other in another life. We complement each other nicely....like Mutt and Jeff. I am the tall one...she is the short one. Soulmates are not always easy to come by in life...and when you do it is a joyous thing. Mary is mine...and if we ever are not friends...I will have to kill her....she knows too much about me. Of course...I know just as much about her. LOL!...But then...that is what friends are for! Happy Birthday Mary and I hope we celebrate many many more!
Monday, June 15, 2009
Living with the Military
So I was already frazzled because a moth had gotten trapped inside the house and had decided to attack me.
I’m not kidding. The thing flew in my face and I started swinging my arms wildly saying things like, “Get away!” and, “Don’t worry kids. Mommy isn’t REALLY afraid.” I mean, I can’t have them thinking that moths terrify me. Even though they do. They’re brown and furry and disgusting looking and they get excited over bright lights for craps sake!
I managed to get the moth away from me and I was trying to decide if I should kill the thing or find a way for it to get outside. It had flown over to the wall and was resting there all gross and fuzzy. I had decided that I’d grab it with a bunch of paper towels and throw everything outside.
I had a wad of paper towels and was inching closer to the moth. I was about to cover it with the paper towels when....
....there was a loud boom and the entire house started shaking for a few seconds.
“What was THAT?” Tommy shrieked from the couch. Natalie paused from pulling the DVDs out of the drawer and looked up with a start.
What I wanted to scream was, WE’RE ALL GOING TO DIE!
But I composed and reminded myself that even though it was a shocking concept, I was the adult here and I had to reassure my children that everything was okay.
It’s just, I probably watch too many of those movies where the world ends after a gigantic blast. Or I watch the movies where aliens come down and destroy the earth and Will Smith has to save everyone.
“It was nothing,” I assured my confused kids. “Just the silly military doing weird things.” I made a funny face when I said the words ‘silly military’ and this made them laugh.
When you live on a military base, you never know what you’ll hear. Or encounter. One time I was on my way to Gymboree and before I could leave the base, a military policeman stopped me and said I had to wait for the general to pass.
“But sir,” I wanted to argue. “There’s a fantastic sale going on right now. Surely if you phone up the General and let him know this, he’ll be happy to let me pass?”
I didn’t say that. Of course I wanted to but instead I sat and waited...and waited....and finally there was this fancy looking car followed by a bunch of other cars in case someone tried to take out the general. And actually, I was close to doing so because I just wanted to get to my freaking sale and the kids were getting restless in the back seat. I really think the General should have rules like, “People on the base don’t have to wait for me to pass if there is a sale or if they have young children in the backseat....”
Sometimes I also have fantasies about calling up the Command Center and asking them to turn off the airplanes because my kids are trying to get to sleep and how are they supposed to sleep if they keep flying their aircraft right over my house?
Anyhow, back to the loud boom incident.
I ended up peeking out the window and in the distance I saw black smoke rising so I figured the military had blown something up. I was contemplating this when another boom was heard and the house started shaking again.
The only reason why I didn’t freak out this time was because I spotted a jogger who had nearly jumped out of his skin when the Big Bang occurred. His legs spread out and his arms shot up in the air and I’m actually surprised he didn’t fall to the ground. If that had been me I’d have surely screeched, “We’re all going to DIE!” before rushing off.
I need to start watching happier movies.
“What’s going on now?” Tommy demanded, looking at me as though I had made the house shudder.
“It’s the military blowing stuff up,” I explained.
“Cool!” Tommy said, eyes lighting up.
About a minute later there was a knock on the door and for a brief second I thought it might be a soldier informing me that a bunch of aliens had just dropped down and did I happen to see any scurrying about?
Yeah, obviously I need to cut back on the shows about extraterrestrials too.
It turns out that it was my neighbor. She stood on the doorstep with wide eyes. My neighbor looks to be all of twenty and is probably ninety pounds soaking wet. It’s not fair because she has a ten-month-old little boy and I’m all, okay, I had my son at nineteen and I looked like a total blob for the first two years after I had him. How is she able to already be skinny? It’s just not fair.
“Are you okay?” she asked. “I heard a banging sound. Did something fall over? Sometimes I can hear noises through the walls and they’re never as loud as that so I decided to check.”
What? Wait? She hears NOISES?
I thought back to a few days prior when I had stepped on one of Tommy’s Matchbox cars with my bare foot and had let out a string of profanities. I normally don’t talk like that, I swear! It’s just, it really HURT. There were sharp edges on that car which totally dug into my heel.
It was on the tip of my tongue to gush, “Okay, how much did you hear the other day? Because I normally don’t talk like that. I only use bad words when I’ve been injured which is totally allowed—it even says so in all the parenting books that I’ve read.”
Okay, so not really, but there SHOULD be a chapter entitled: “It’s okay to swear when you’ve been hurt.”
“Nothing fell over,” I assured the neighbor. “I think the military is just blowing stuff up.”
She still looked a little spooked as though worried that I totally pulled a Jack Nicholson from The Shining and was going through the house destroying things and shouting stuff like, “HEEERREESSS MOMMY!” while swinging a baseball bat around my head.
“Okay then,” the neighbor finally said, still a little wary. She tried to crane her neck around me, trying in vain to spot a toppled over piece of furniture “Bye.” She slowly walked back to her house.
So fantastic.
My neighbor thinks I’m knocking over furniture on purpose.
I’m not kidding. The thing flew in my face and I started swinging my arms wildly saying things like, “Get away!” and, “Don’t worry kids. Mommy isn’t REALLY afraid.” I mean, I can’t have them thinking that moths terrify me. Even though they do. They’re brown and furry and disgusting looking and they get excited over bright lights for craps sake!
I managed to get the moth away from me and I was trying to decide if I should kill the thing or find a way for it to get outside. It had flown over to the wall and was resting there all gross and fuzzy. I had decided that I’d grab it with a bunch of paper towels and throw everything outside.
I had a wad of paper towels and was inching closer to the moth. I was about to cover it with the paper towels when....
....there was a loud boom and the entire house started shaking for a few seconds.
“What was THAT?” Tommy shrieked from the couch. Natalie paused from pulling the DVDs out of the drawer and looked up with a start.
What I wanted to scream was, WE’RE ALL GOING TO DIE!
But I composed and reminded myself that even though it was a shocking concept, I was the adult here and I had to reassure my children that everything was okay.
It’s just, I probably watch too many of those movies where the world ends after a gigantic blast. Or I watch the movies where aliens come down and destroy the earth and Will Smith has to save everyone.
“It was nothing,” I assured my confused kids. “Just the silly military doing weird things.” I made a funny face when I said the words ‘silly military’ and this made them laugh.
When you live on a military base, you never know what you’ll hear. Or encounter. One time I was on my way to Gymboree and before I could leave the base, a military policeman stopped me and said I had to wait for the general to pass.
“But sir,” I wanted to argue. “There’s a fantastic sale going on right now. Surely if you phone up the General and let him know this, he’ll be happy to let me pass?”
I didn’t say that. Of course I wanted to but instead I sat and waited...and waited....and finally there was this fancy looking car followed by a bunch of other cars in case someone tried to take out the general. And actually, I was close to doing so because I just wanted to get to my freaking sale and the kids were getting restless in the back seat. I really think the General should have rules like, “People on the base don’t have to wait for me to pass if there is a sale or if they have young children in the backseat....”
Sometimes I also have fantasies about calling up the Command Center and asking them to turn off the airplanes because my kids are trying to get to sleep and how are they supposed to sleep if they keep flying their aircraft right over my house?
Anyhow, back to the loud boom incident.
I ended up peeking out the window and in the distance I saw black smoke rising so I figured the military had blown something up. I was contemplating this when another boom was heard and the house started shaking again.
The only reason why I didn’t freak out this time was because I spotted a jogger who had nearly jumped out of his skin when the Big Bang occurred. His legs spread out and his arms shot up in the air and I’m actually surprised he didn’t fall to the ground. If that had been me I’d have surely screeched, “We’re all going to DIE!” before rushing off.
I need to start watching happier movies.
“What’s going on now?” Tommy demanded, looking at me as though I had made the house shudder.
“It’s the military blowing stuff up,” I explained.
“Cool!” Tommy said, eyes lighting up.
About a minute later there was a knock on the door and for a brief second I thought it might be a soldier informing me that a bunch of aliens had just dropped down and did I happen to see any scurrying about?
Yeah, obviously I need to cut back on the shows about extraterrestrials too.
It turns out that it was my neighbor. She stood on the doorstep with wide eyes. My neighbor looks to be all of twenty and is probably ninety pounds soaking wet. It’s not fair because she has a ten-month-old little boy and I’m all, okay, I had my son at nineteen and I looked like a total blob for the first two years after I had him. How is she able to already be skinny? It’s just not fair.
“Are you okay?” she asked. “I heard a banging sound. Did something fall over? Sometimes I can hear noises through the walls and they’re never as loud as that so I decided to check.”
What? Wait? She hears NOISES?
I thought back to a few days prior when I had stepped on one of Tommy’s Matchbox cars with my bare foot and had let out a string of profanities. I normally don’t talk like that, I swear! It’s just, it really HURT. There were sharp edges on that car which totally dug into my heel.
It was on the tip of my tongue to gush, “Okay, how much did you hear the other day? Because I normally don’t talk like that. I only use bad words when I’ve been injured which is totally allowed—it even says so in all the parenting books that I’ve read.”
Okay, so not really, but there SHOULD be a chapter entitled: “It’s okay to swear when you’ve been hurt.”
“Nothing fell over,” I assured the neighbor. “I think the military is just blowing stuff up.”
She still looked a little spooked as though worried that I totally pulled a Jack Nicholson from The Shining and was going through the house destroying things and shouting stuff like, “HEEERREESSS MOMMY!” while swinging a baseball bat around my head.
“Okay then,” the neighbor finally said, still a little wary. She tried to crane her neck around me, trying in vain to spot a toppled over piece of furniture “Bye.” She slowly walked back to her house.
So fantastic.
My neighbor thinks I’m knocking over furniture on purpose.
Just Another Manic Monday
Well after my wonderful Sunday experience at Mangarelli's Pizzeria I woke up this morning to discover that it is just another manic Monday. I am going to house sit for a bit this morning to let some workers into a friends house because she is out of town with her grandbabies. I have to admit it makes me kind of happy to know I can escape my own house for a little while. Summer has been tough being home with my parents all day....every day. My mother is very good at finding things they want me to do. I was planning to work on my scrapbooks, but lost interest in that when my mom stood over my left shoulder and watched every move I made....and commented on it. I will save scrapbooking for a scrapping party where I can sit unmolested for a good 8 hours and just scrap. Sigh! I really should be deep cleaning the house today but I will save that for mid-week. I want it really looking good for the weekend and Father's Day. Who knows...we might have company. Tomorrow I am taking Mary to the Main Event in LaFayette for a pedi treatment for her birthday! I can't wait. Of course...I am going to have the same treatment. It would not be very nice of me to make her do it alone. Right? With that said...if I can just get through this manic Monday....tomorrow will be bliss. What is that Scarlet O'Hara says after Rhett leaves her....tomorrow is another day!....and maybe if I am lucky less manic. Have a Happy Monday all!
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Mangarelli's Pizzeria
I had an amazing Sunday. First of all I got to spend the afternoon with some old friends, Rhonda and Robert Gaskins. Robert was our best man at our wedding. Their daughter Abbi and her husband Paul have a fabulous restaurant in Fayetteville, GA that is a must if you are ever in the metro Atlanta area. Rhonda had a chicken parmesian pizza. It was 18" of pure delight. Paul makes his own pizza sauce and dough...and oh my it is soooo good. Robert had a grilled chicken parmesian sandwich and it looked awesome too. Frank ate a meat lovers pizzarone and it was killer. I have never seen so much meat on anything in my life. I had spaghetti with marinara sauce (home made sauce of course!) and a salad with balsamic dressing that was to die for. You all know I am working on my weight. After the meal was over Paul brought out dessert for the not-so-faint-at-heart - Cannolis that he makes from scratch and cheesecake that his mother makes appeared on our table only to be devoured by those who still had some room left. I have to admit I took a fingernail size piece of the cannolis and what I sampled was heaven on a plate. Let me tell you the music was wonderful, the food was to die for, the atmosphere is killer and I want my blogger friends to know that these kids have a winning combination. I am enclosing the address for you so if you are ever in the Fayetteville area you will stop by....heck...you don't even have to be in the area....we drove two hours to enjoy this....and trust me....you will enjoy it! They have a monster 30" pizza that if you can eat it...by yourself of course....in an hour....it is free and you get a whole bunch of other prizes to boot. I promise "you will be hooked from your very first slice"...it truly was love at first bite for me!Mangarelli's Pizzeria
Address: 749 W. Lanier Avenue, Fayetteville, GA, 30214
Phone: 770-461-8787
Hours: Mon. - Sat. 11 a.m. - 9:30 p.m. Sun. 11:00 - 5:00
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Tagged You Are It!
My sweet friend Xazmin tagged me with listing 6 unimportant things that make me happy. I've done this tag once before...but there are for sure more than 6 unimportant things that make me happy...so I'm glad to list 6 new ones!
1. Going to San Diego for a week to attend the NEA Representative Assembly in three weeks!
2. Being a preacher's wife with the nickname, Mrs. Preacher
3. Singing with Amanda, or as Still Magnolias, and with the Praise Band at church.
4. Holding my sweet little nephew(actually cousins child) Drew and watching him stretch, smile, and laugh out loud.
5. Losing weight.
6. Being with Kat, Ramona, and Amy.
Now I tag:
Martha
LA Girl
Kelly
Trina
Belle
Linda
1. Going to San Diego for a week to attend the NEA Representative Assembly in three weeks!
2. Being a preacher's wife with the nickname, Mrs. Preacher
3. Singing with Amanda, or as Still Magnolias, and with the Praise Band at church.
4. Holding my sweet little nephew(actually cousins child) Drew and watching him stretch, smile, and laugh out loud.
5. Losing weight.
6. Being with Kat, Ramona, and Amy.
Now I tag:
Martha
LA Girl
Kelly
Trina
Belle
Linda
Saga of the Wreck
I watched the news Tuesday night but saw nothing about the wreck. Weds. morning I discovered Channel 5 Mobile on the room television and discovered the wreck was a mess...there were three people injured but no one seriously....oh and also heard there was a bit of road rage sometime after we managed to pull across and go back an exit. Someone got mad and duked it out with another driver. Silly boys! We arrived safely at the conference in Mobile. We stayed at the Renaissance Hotel and it was lovely! It is the old Adams Mark. I had a wonderful time. Our view was of the water and on Thursday we got to watch the Holiday Cruise ship port. It was awesome coming in and seeing it from the 25th floor. Thursday night we ate seafood at Zekes on the bay and it was awesome. If you have never eaten at Zeke's and are ever in the Mobile area try it out. Of course I have tons of favorites in Mobile. The Original Oyster House and Wentzels also rock my culinary world too. Mobile is a great place to visit...see the U.S.S. Alabama, Bellingrath Gardens, you are only 20 miles from Foley and mega outlet shopping, wonderful places to eat, history at its finest....I love me some Mobile for sure!
Friday, June 12, 2009
More Letters to Tom
I've done these letters before and figured it was time to do them one more time.
My husband Tom is on TDY at military dog working school for a few more weeks. I write him letters to keep his spirits up because sometimes he calls and he sounds all depressed. Which, no offense, he shouldn’t sound depressed because if I got all that quiet time I’d be leaping in the air and clicking my heels. But Tom can get into these funks where nothing can make him crack a smile and it’s frustrating.
I do hope my letters cheer him up a little bit though.
The first one is the kind of letter that I actually send him:
Dear Tom,
I miss you! Especially at night. Sometimes I watch those shows about ghosts and aliens and you know me, I freak out. I miss being able to curl up in your lap as you assure me that ET isn’t going to come down and abduct me.
That IS pretty cool that some of the dogs you work with will eventually be retired and will need homes. Maybe in a few years, Tom. Right now I’m not sure my sanity can handle it.
The kids are doing well. Natalie will sometimes ask where you are and it is so cute. Tommy is also thrilled for you to be home. I think he’s fed up with the fact that I have no clue how to put Legos together. I do try, I really do, but somehow the instructions confuse me and Tommy gets frustrated and tells me that I’m doing it all wrong.
I’ve been making all sorts of different dinners so that when you come home I’ll have some new things to cook. I understand that a person can only eat so much spaghetti.
I can’t wait until we can go on a date, just the two of us. It’ll be so much fun! Afterwards we can go to a movie—I know we can’t agree on one but surely we’ll figure something out.
I’ll be seeing you in exactly two weeks. I picture us clapping eyes as I walk into the building where you’ll be graduating and our hearts will swell with love. I’ll gaze at you lovingly like they do on Grey’s Anatomy and you’ll gaze back and then we’ll start running with our arms spread and you’ll pick me up and spin me around as you kiss my lips. Then our children will rush over and throw their arms around us and we’ll be standing there in a beautiful family hug.
I can’t wait, Tom. I’ll see you soon.
Love,
Amber
This is the letter that I WANT to send to him:
Tom,
Holy shit you need to come home! I keep watching the ghost and alien shows even though I know better and then I’m totally freaked out. The other day I swore there was a ghost in the closet. I kept hearing a clunking sound and was shaking in horror in the bed. If you had been here I’d have curled up in your arms. Actually, I probably would have jumped on top of you and told you to KILL THE GHOST which would make no sense because the ghost is already dead. Of course then you’d probably get turned on because I was on top of you and I’d be all, “Tom! This is not an appropriate time for lovemaking! There is GHOST in the closet!”
There is no way we’re getting a dog, Tom. Are you kidding me? I can barely manage these two kids and you want to bring another living being in this house? Can you guess who will probably be stuck walking the dog? Yup, that would be me. I’d probably be hounding you to take the dog for a walk, for the love of God TAKE THE DOG FOR A WALK and you’d give me that wounded look as though I hurt your pride or something. But Tom, sometimes you aren’t that much of a help. Remember that one time when Natalie had crapped her pants and you sat there on the couch and pretended that you didn’t smell it even though it was obvious from your expression that you HAD? Then when I finished doing the dishes and smelt it you were all, “Oh, I had no idea she pooped.” I can just SEE you looking all baffled and being all, “I had no idea the dog needed to be walked…” So no, Tom. We won’t be getting a dog.
The kids are still driving me crazy. Natalie constantly asks where you are and I’m starting to think that something is wrong with her. I mean, I explain that you’re at dog training school and she seems to comprehend it….and then a few hours later she’s asking where you are again. Is there something wrong with her short term memory? Oh my God, what if she’s just like Izzy on Grey’s Anatomy and keeps forgetting things? Now I’m in a complete panic that something HAS to be wrong with her. You need to come home so you can assure me that she’s perfectly fine; that she’s just being a two-year-old and probably enjoys the power of having me repeat the same thing over and over again.
Tommy is downright pissed that I can’t put together his Lego sets. This really isn’t my fault. Why in the WORLD do they make pieces that look identical yet they really aren’t? For instance, I swore this one red piece clipped into this one blue piece but I was wrong…it was a completely different red piece that I needed that I swear, looked exactly the SAME. Why does Lego like upsetting me? Why is it so complicated? I gave birth to two human beings for chrissakes, I should be able to put together a Lego dinosaur! I survived Algebra class—and okay, I only scraped by with a C but still—the bottom line is I PASSED. Why is this Lego set not making any sense to me?
I am so sick of cooking. I’ve tried to make new recipes but a lot of them come out tasting like old dirty gym socks. Not that I’ve ever CONSUMED old dirty gym socks but I can imagine that they’d taste just like the Swedish meatballs I tried to put together. The sauce was all wrong and Tommy actually gagged one of the meatballs out and asked what was wrong with it. I followed the recipe! I swear I did! I’m just trying to figure out other things to make so that you don’t have to constantly eat spaghetti and Sloppy Joes. But Tom, I’m sorry, you may HAVE to eat a lot of spaghetti or Sloppy Joes as these seem to be the only adequate things I can prepare for dinner. Sorry. You should have married a woman who knew her way around the kitchen. Not one who burns things and who tells the recipe to kiss her pale ass when she doesn’t understand what it’s talking about.
I am thrilled to be going on a date with you. Isn’t my Mom so nice to take the kids for us? You won’t believe how excited I am to be dining on a meal in peace without two kids jabbering on in my ears. Oh, and it’ll be nice to actually eat my meal when it’s HOT. Usually my food is lukewarm by the time I finish cutting everyone’s meat up. I’m totally picking the movie we’re going to see afterwards, Tom. I earned it. I’ve kept these two children alive on my own for two and a half months and I’ve earned the right to pick the movie. I’m sorry, but we’re going to see The Proposal. I don’t CARE if chick flicks make you want to gouge your eyeballs out. You can deal with it for an hour and a half. Stare at Sandra Bullock or something! Maybe even Betty White if elderly people excite you. I don’t care. You just need to sit there and eat your nachos and let me watch my movie in peace. It’s really that simple. Do I need to remind you how many times you’ve forced me to sit through Saving Private Ryan? It’s over ten times but who is counting? I’ve been traumatized by the first ten minutes of that movie but does that bother you? No. All you kept saying was, “Isn’t this a fantastic film?” and I’d be sitting there with my hands over my eyes asking if the bloody scenes were over. It wasn’t funny that one time when you said yes and the bloody scenes really weren’t over. Now I have that image of that poor boy lying on the beach with his intestines splayed all over the place calling for his mother permanently etched in my brain.
In exactly two weeks we’ll be together again. I imagine you’ll just give me one of your ridiculous waves and will quickly plant a kiss on my lips while muttering, “Hello.” You’ve never been one for romantic reunions, have you Tom? Don’t be insulted if Tommy lifts his chin and stalks off—he’s just been missing you is all. And Natalie, well, if she swats your leg, please don’t take offense. She doesn’t understand why you had to leave even though I’ve explained it to her a billion times.
I will see you soon. I hope these two weeks fly by for my sanity’s sake.
Love,
Your frazzled wife
My husband Tom is on TDY at military dog working school for a few more weeks. I write him letters to keep his spirits up because sometimes he calls and he sounds all depressed. Which, no offense, he shouldn’t sound depressed because if I got all that quiet time I’d be leaping in the air and clicking my heels. But Tom can get into these funks where nothing can make him crack a smile and it’s frustrating.
I do hope my letters cheer him up a little bit though.
The first one is the kind of letter that I actually send him:
Dear Tom,
I miss you! Especially at night. Sometimes I watch those shows about ghosts and aliens and you know me, I freak out. I miss being able to curl up in your lap as you assure me that ET isn’t going to come down and abduct me.
That IS pretty cool that some of the dogs you work with will eventually be retired and will need homes. Maybe in a few years, Tom. Right now I’m not sure my sanity can handle it.
The kids are doing well. Natalie will sometimes ask where you are and it is so cute. Tommy is also thrilled for you to be home. I think he’s fed up with the fact that I have no clue how to put Legos together. I do try, I really do, but somehow the instructions confuse me and Tommy gets frustrated and tells me that I’m doing it all wrong.
I’ve been making all sorts of different dinners so that when you come home I’ll have some new things to cook. I understand that a person can only eat so much spaghetti.
I can’t wait until we can go on a date, just the two of us. It’ll be so much fun! Afterwards we can go to a movie—I know we can’t agree on one but surely we’ll figure something out.
I’ll be seeing you in exactly two weeks. I picture us clapping eyes as I walk into the building where you’ll be graduating and our hearts will swell with love. I’ll gaze at you lovingly like they do on Grey’s Anatomy and you’ll gaze back and then we’ll start running with our arms spread and you’ll pick me up and spin me around as you kiss my lips. Then our children will rush over and throw their arms around us and we’ll be standing there in a beautiful family hug.
I can’t wait, Tom. I’ll see you soon.
Love,
Amber
This is the letter that I WANT to send to him:
Tom,
Holy shit you need to come home! I keep watching the ghost and alien shows even though I know better and then I’m totally freaked out. The other day I swore there was a ghost in the closet. I kept hearing a clunking sound and was shaking in horror in the bed. If you had been here I’d have curled up in your arms. Actually, I probably would have jumped on top of you and told you to KILL THE GHOST which would make no sense because the ghost is already dead. Of course then you’d probably get turned on because I was on top of you and I’d be all, “Tom! This is not an appropriate time for lovemaking! There is GHOST in the closet!”
There is no way we’re getting a dog, Tom. Are you kidding me? I can barely manage these two kids and you want to bring another living being in this house? Can you guess who will probably be stuck walking the dog? Yup, that would be me. I’d probably be hounding you to take the dog for a walk, for the love of God TAKE THE DOG FOR A WALK and you’d give me that wounded look as though I hurt your pride or something. But Tom, sometimes you aren’t that much of a help. Remember that one time when Natalie had crapped her pants and you sat there on the couch and pretended that you didn’t smell it even though it was obvious from your expression that you HAD? Then when I finished doing the dishes and smelt it you were all, “Oh, I had no idea she pooped.” I can just SEE you looking all baffled and being all, “I had no idea the dog needed to be walked…” So no, Tom. We won’t be getting a dog.
The kids are still driving me crazy. Natalie constantly asks where you are and I’m starting to think that something is wrong with her. I mean, I explain that you’re at dog training school and she seems to comprehend it….and then a few hours later she’s asking where you are again. Is there something wrong with her short term memory? Oh my God, what if she’s just like Izzy on Grey’s Anatomy and keeps forgetting things? Now I’m in a complete panic that something HAS to be wrong with her. You need to come home so you can assure me that she’s perfectly fine; that she’s just being a two-year-old and probably enjoys the power of having me repeat the same thing over and over again.
Tommy is downright pissed that I can’t put together his Lego sets. This really isn’t my fault. Why in the WORLD do they make pieces that look identical yet they really aren’t? For instance, I swore this one red piece clipped into this one blue piece but I was wrong…it was a completely different red piece that I needed that I swear, looked exactly the SAME. Why does Lego like upsetting me? Why is it so complicated? I gave birth to two human beings for chrissakes, I should be able to put together a Lego dinosaur! I survived Algebra class—and okay, I only scraped by with a C but still—the bottom line is I PASSED. Why is this Lego set not making any sense to me?
I am so sick of cooking. I’ve tried to make new recipes but a lot of them come out tasting like old dirty gym socks. Not that I’ve ever CONSUMED old dirty gym socks but I can imagine that they’d taste just like the Swedish meatballs I tried to put together. The sauce was all wrong and Tommy actually gagged one of the meatballs out and asked what was wrong with it. I followed the recipe! I swear I did! I’m just trying to figure out other things to make so that you don’t have to constantly eat spaghetti and Sloppy Joes. But Tom, I’m sorry, you may HAVE to eat a lot of spaghetti or Sloppy Joes as these seem to be the only adequate things I can prepare for dinner. Sorry. You should have married a woman who knew her way around the kitchen. Not one who burns things and who tells the recipe to kiss her pale ass when she doesn’t understand what it’s talking about.
I am thrilled to be going on a date with you. Isn’t my Mom so nice to take the kids for us? You won’t believe how excited I am to be dining on a meal in peace without two kids jabbering on in my ears. Oh, and it’ll be nice to actually eat my meal when it’s HOT. Usually my food is lukewarm by the time I finish cutting everyone’s meat up. I’m totally picking the movie we’re going to see afterwards, Tom. I earned it. I’ve kept these two children alive on my own for two and a half months and I’ve earned the right to pick the movie. I’m sorry, but we’re going to see The Proposal. I don’t CARE if chick flicks make you want to gouge your eyeballs out. You can deal with it for an hour and a half. Stare at Sandra Bullock or something! Maybe even Betty White if elderly people excite you. I don’t care. You just need to sit there and eat your nachos and let me watch my movie in peace. It’s really that simple. Do I need to remind you how many times you’ve forced me to sit through Saving Private Ryan? It’s over ten times but who is counting? I’ve been traumatized by the first ten minutes of that movie but does that bother you? No. All you kept saying was, “Isn’t this a fantastic film?” and I’d be sitting there with my hands over my eyes asking if the bloody scenes were over. It wasn’t funny that one time when you said yes and the bloody scenes really weren’t over. Now I have that image of that poor boy lying on the beach with his intestines splayed all over the place calling for his mother permanently etched in my brain.
In exactly two weeks we’ll be together again. I imagine you’ll just give me one of your ridiculous waves and will quickly plant a kiss on my lips while muttering, “Hello.” You’ve never been one for romantic reunions, have you Tom? Don’t be insulted if Tommy lifts his chin and stalks off—he’s just been missing you is all. And Natalie, well, if she swats your leg, please don’t take offense. She doesn’t understand why you had to leave even though I’ve explained it to her a billion times.
I will see you soon. I hope these two weeks fly by for my sanity’s sake.
Love,
Your frazzled wife
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