the108

Inside the mind of America’s (raunchy, foul mouthed, overly opinionated, sexually aggressive, incredibly offensive, fly by the minute, ridiculously absurd, often times erratic, psychologically questionable) Sweetheart.

Go suck yourself, rubberneck! January 31, 2008

Filed under: Uncategorized — the108 @ 6:23 pm

Cock sucker bastard fuck bullshit ass blister mother fucker son of a fuckin’ bitch you sack of goddamned fuck electricity piece of shit monkey’s ass wet fart fucker douche bag dick wart donkey fucker fat turd poop robber rectum licker turkey molester piece of fucking shit from a herpes infested hooker with piles on her asshole mother FUCKER!

AAAAARRRRGGGGGHHHH!!!!!!!

Fuck you!

Today was Matthew’s test at school to see if he is gifted. Had he scored really high he would have gotten to go to a different school for gifted students.

Until some asshole slammed his car into a generator and knocked out all of the power in our area causing our alarms to not go off and Matt was late for the test by an hour. Now, he has to retake it over the summer and I am livid.

Why today??? Of alllll the days he can be late for school, why this one?

And boy was the kid psyched. He went to bed ridiculously early last night and insisted on eating only healthy shit and packed himself some brain food in his backpack. Then, this horse shit. I just wanna smack this retard who drove into the generator, I really do.

I bought an alarm clock that is electric but also battery operated and although it stays plugged into the wall, I keep batteries in it in case of this sort of ridiculous diarrhea. Well. I have just discovered that the only purpose the batteries serve is recording the time the clock stopped so that when the power goes back on, you don’t have to reset it.

What??? That’s the dumbest fucking thing I have ever heard. If it’s battery powered then power the fucker already! Do it all the way! I fucking hate you, clock!

In addition to Matt missing his big test, Dean was late for work and, of course, this is unacceptable and is a major catastrophe in the eyes of the military. You’d think he raped someone in the butt for as bad as they flip out over such shit. Really, they can all kiss a good man’s ass today. I am not in the mood.

Actually, I’m in a fine mood. I’m just upset for the boy. Other than that, all is good even though Dean has been acting like a spazz lately. I’m beginning to prepare for the onslaught of birthday’s we have coming up with Olivia in a few weeks, Owen soon after that and Matt two weeks after Owen’s. It is time to start piecing this junk together. I suppose that’s all well and good but I just don’t really want to have to think about anything today so maybe I won’t.

Instead, I shall paint Olivia’s face while she sleeps and scare the piss out of her when she wakes up.

That one’s always good for a laugh.

Advertisements
 

sweet lovelies January 30, 2008

Filed under: Uncategorized — the108 @ 7:32 pm

This morning I upgraded Olivia out of her car seat and into a booster seat. Her being in a car seat was a bit ludicrous at this point because she is ginormous and it didn’t do much to contain her. So, she graduated to the booster seat and I brought the car seat up and scrubbed and washed the thing and passed it down to Emi.

I cried like a big, fat pussy. I have no idea why. I had Dean bring up her infant car seat and the minute I saw it I burst into tears of madness. It’s all over now. The baby may as well leave for college tomorrow.

Emi is a source of a lot of emotion for me and I don’t know if it’s because she’s the youngest or if it is because she holds a very weird place in my heart. I say weird because I’m not sure how else to describe it without sounding cheesy but to be blunt… she saved my life.

Most of you were reading my blog throughout my pregnancy with her and know that we went through a lot. With Dean’s arrest, suicide attempt, my tumor and surgery… it was so stressful that there were a lot of days when I wasn’t sure I was going to make it. I feared for her life and I feared for my own life but most of all I just wanted to bring her into the world safely. I blamed myself so much for causing her pain because I knew the stress was getting to me and I knew I was falling apart but I held on to her and if she hadn’t been right there fighting with me then I may not be here. I’ve said it a million times and it’s true: I kept her alive and she returned the favor.

Watching her grow is insane. I’m so very proud of all of my babies and although they are nuts they are also astounding in so many ways. As much as I love to discuss their more ridiculous behavior and make fun of the weird shit they do on a daily basis, today I am going to focus this post on their greatness.

One of Matthew’s teachers has nominated him for the gifted program at school and tomorrow he will go through a barrage of tests. It will last all day and he will be tested on all sorts of various things in addition to having his I.Q. tested. This confused me not because I think he is retarded but because he is sloppy and disorganized and doesn’t turn his work in half the time. As a result, his grades slip and so I was shocked when he was nominated.

I know he is smart and there are days when I think that maybe he is too smart. He knows and understands things that he probably shouldn’t at his age. Some of it is because he is very aware of things and because we always answer him honestly when he enquires even when the questions are a bit uncomfortable:

“Mom… what’s a boner?”

“So, you always warn me about sexual predators but what exactly does a sexual predator do?”

Being a mother who frequently has to explain the wonders of spontaneous erections and ponder how to word “ass rape” to an eight year old is often times challenging. But, thanks to the miracle of bluntness and my eight year old’s ability to process such simple terms, it is usually easiest to give it to him straight:

A boner is when your penis gets all hard and stands up on it’s own. You accomplish this by fiddling with it.”

“A sexual predator will grab your penis and rape you in the butt. It hurts really badly to be raped in the butt.”

Granted, these discussions evolve into much deeper conversations but if the boy asks, I give him what he needs to hear. I tend to only answer what he asks and if he demands more information then I give it.

I haven’t a clue if this has helped his intelligence or harmed his soul, but he handles it however he needs to and so far being honest and direct seems to be suitable for him.

Owen is very different from Matt. He is far more emotionally driven and doesn’t dissect every little thing. Owen, unlike Matt, does not want all of the information that exposes the secrets of the world and finds his security with emotional attachments. He is the one who wants hugs and kisses and who acts out in anger when he is angry. His questions to me are far more self validating:

“Mom… am I strong?”

“Do I look handsome?”

“Do you think I’m smart?”

Owen worries about things that Matthew doesn’t. Matt is far more concerned with the state of the world and religious corruption or politics and science where as Owen needs to know that he is loved above all else. His comfort is not in knowing all of the information but in wanting to know what everyone else is thinking.

Matt has a passion for calculating and assessing situations and Owen has a passion for people. He, at four years old, has vowed to die for his siblings and becomes wounded when someone is mean to him. Everyone is Owen’s best friend and he will do anything for them. At the very same time, Owen is a constant worrier and lacks confidence. This doesn’t make him give up but it does make him fight. I have always called Owen the warrior of the family because he will do what he feels needs to be done to see things through to the other side.

Olivia is the free spirit. She is brilliant and spontaneous. If Audrey Hepburn farted and that fart stood up and started talking to you, it would be Olivia. She is a great beauty, so intelligent and witty, charming and quick witted,sweet and kind and talented. But… she is also a fire cracker and will lash out before you even know what has hit you. She’s a diva in every sense of the word but she is also honest and loving and silly.

Piss her off, though, and she’ll punch you square in the eye. No joke. She will fuck you up.

As girly as Olivia is, she is also very crude. She gets naked every opportunity that she has and spits on people when they get on her nerves. She has a mean side to her that you don’t see very often but when you do, she lets loose. She will not be ignored, a trait she shares with Owen and when one of them speaks to you you had better be listening because if you don’t then they will kick your ass.

Then there is Emi. Emi is spoiled like crazy and not just by me and Dean. Emi is spoiled by Matt, Owen and Olivia. They obsess over her, baby her like crazy, fret over everything she does. They sing to her, play games with her and do anything necessary to make her laugh. Emi is a lucky baby because she is drowning in love and adoration from her older siblings. She sparks interesting conversations between me and the older kids:

Owen: Mom, if anyone ever hurts Emi I will kill them.

Me: Um… that’s certainly something, Owen. But don’t kill anyone.

Owen: Well, I would give my life to her and to Olivia or Matt, too.

Me: You are a great brother, Owen.

or…

Olivia: When I grow up I want to have a baby just like Emi.

Me: You would be very lucky. Emi is a good girl.

Olivia: Yes, she is a good girl and she is growing up just like I did. She is growing so big now.

Me: Yep.

Olivia: Mommy, I love my baby...

or even…

Matt: Mom, I think the baby is wet.

Me: Matt, I just changed her.

Matt: Do it again. I don’t want her sitting in a wet diaper for even a minute. And, I think she’s hungry.

Me: She just ate.

Matt: Then don’t let anyone near her. Owen and Olivia are running around. Make sure they don’t accidentally run her over.

Me: I got it, Matt.

Matt: Maybe I’ll just sit here and make sure.

Oh, yes. Emi is spoiled rotten. Everyone loves her, watches her every move, brags on her and smothers her with attention. And, she just eats it up. She lights up when one of her siblings come near. Even the cat follows her every move and comes up to her trying to make her smile.

My babies are amazing. If the only thing they ever accomplish is existing then the world is a better place.

I am so lucky.

 

product weirdness January 29, 2008

Filed under: Uncategorized — the108 @ 5:24 pm

Emi has this bath seat that is made by a company called Safety 1st and it’s pretty hardcore.It attaches to the side of the tub and is all kinds of stable and she really likes to sit in it and splash around. Also, it is remarkably easy to access her ass crack during bath time, something many bath seats sort of restrict.

I was in the bathroom yesterday doing any random thing people do in bathrooms when I noticed the sticker this bath seat has on it:

According to the product warning… this is not a safety device. Even though the company is called Safety 1st.

I don’t understand. I suppose it’s all legalities and whatnot but… really? You market your entire empire based on safety and then you do not, in fact, put safety first? I wish to know, then, where exactly safety falls on their list of importance. Second? Fiftieth?

Why is this not a safety device? It sure makes bath time safer for Emi. Granted, I would never leave her unattended in the tub even in a bath seat but it still makes things safer.She’s not going to slip or tip over and she isn’t going to be dropped or slide out of anyone’s soapy hands. I think it’s safer.

Babies drowning scares the piss out of me. I remember that scene in the movie A Beautiful Mind when ol’ dude sticks his baby in the bathtub and leaves because he thinks that one of his hallucinations is watching him. By the time the mother reaches the bathroom, the baby is completely under water other than his little nose. Scares the shit right out of me. Had he had a bath seat then the kid would have been, at the very least, safer than just lying there to drown. This just proves to me that these devices are far safer because you just never know when your hallucination isn’t actually watching your children after they commit to the job. No one can be trusted. Not even the figments of your imagination.

So, the company that makes this device doesn’t want to be sued when some idiot sticks her baby in there and then leaves the water running and drowns the kid. I get that. But I still think it’s stupid. How can ANYONE claim that something improves safety if they are always worrying about lawsuits?

I put this up there along with sleeping pills that warn that they may cause restlessness. You know what I’m talking about. Isn’t that a strange side effect for a sleeping pill? You take it to go to sleep but there is a small possibility that they may keep you up all fuckin’ night. Nothing is what it is anymore. It might be what you think it is or it may just be the exact opposite.

Whatever. I don’t care any more. I just think it’s weird.

 

step right up, folks….. January 28, 2008

Filed under: Uncategorized — the108 @ 8:01 am

Yesterday I had to take Owen to a birthday party for some kid he didn’t know he knew. Apparently, the kid is in his class at school but after this party, I’m not so sure.

Owen did not know one single kid at this little soiree. When he first told me he hadn’t a clue who Joey was, I thought maybe he was just having issues remembering the name and would remember the face once he saw the kid. Nope. Nothing. As I’m sure he is in Owen’s class at school… clearly Owen just has a case of the Alzheimer’s or something. At any rate, I suddenly found myself in the predicament of being a party crasher at a party we were invited to attend.

Owen didn’t give a shit since there were kids around, candy, cake, food and…. bowling. That’s right. It was at a bowling alley. When the mysterious kid who we do not know’s mother told me it was at a bowling alley, I silently questioned how a bunch of four year olds were going to have a lick of fun watching their balls roll down the lanes at a whopping one mile per hour with the end result being a measly pin wobbling for a few seconds before it did nothing. But, I shrugged it off and figured she could deal with it, not me.

Let me tell you something: This party was a real freak show. The kids had a blast and the parents were super nice but some of the other guests were absolutely fucking fantastic in their weirdness. I couldn’t help but stare at a few of them. Allow me now to describe the insanity that I witnessed yesterday:

The Bearded Lady: Okay… it wasn’t a full beard but this has got to be only because she had recently shaved. This woman… I shit you not…. had full sideburns. I’m not talking little whispies here… tiny strands of hair that hung in front of her head in the Hasidic Jew fashion. No. What I saw was the real deal… long, curly sideburns that grew directly our of this woman’s face and I swear to everything holy they looked just like mutton chops. I simply could not believe it.

Ladies… if this were you would you not do something drastic to rectify the problem? I would be at the laser hair removal place as fast as if I had discovered hair on my nipples. Not this lady. Hair was all done up and plenty of makeup was on and a quick peek at her chest revealed plenty of booby….. it was definitely a woman. With sideburns.

The World’s Largest Baby: One of the guests there had a gigantic baby with her. When I say gigantic, I mean absolutely enormous. The baby in question was fourteen months old and weighed sixty some odd pounds. It was disturbing.

It was a girl baby and I didn’t even ask her name because I was too dumb struck to say anything at all. It looked like a baby. It had about two teeth. It had baby items dangling off of it and it drank out of a bottle. But, it was the fattest thing I have ever seen in all of my life.

I could not help but think the thing looked like the baby of a giant, in fact, that is EXACTLY what it looked like. A regular old baby only far more humongous than any other baby you have ever seen and also ridiculously fat.

The Strongest Man in the Universe: This guy didn’t look all that strong but his biceps were remarkably huge and his t-shirt was remarkably small. Before I go any further, I feel I should mention that the t-shirt itself was a bit odd for a child’s birthday party. It read: “I used to be a cub scout but I was thrown out for eating a brownie”. The dude with the giant guns wandered around with beer all afternoon and a cigarette in his mouth that was unlit. His head was freakishly small in comparison to his body and so he just looked very abnormal and completely infused with steroids. I took a good, long look at his crotch and…. nothing. This confirmed my suspicions on steroid use. Clearly, he had shrunk both his head and his penis.

There were more freaks, too, like the one Joey called “Grandpa” who looked about 25. Also, every single woman there was either pregnant or just plain fat. I couldn’t tell. This includes the mother of the giant baby although I wondered if maybe she only looked pregnant because she had birthed such a humongous creature and her body simply stretched beyond it’s limits. It was crazy and absurd and no one spoke to me which left far too much time for me to take mental notes on just how creepy everyone was. Except for Joey’s mom who was the most normal person there.

Owen was a sweetheart at the party and behaved and had fun although he compulsively licked himself the entire time. He’s been doing this for about a week. I don’t understand it. He licks his hands over and over again and then washes them repeatedly and licks them some more. It’s the most bizarre thing I have ever seen one of my children do without trying to be bizarre. I looked it up on the internets to find out what the fuck is wrong with him and it says that my four year old is acting out this compulsion to deal with an obsessive thought.

Oh, god. Owen is…. me.

I should have seen this coming. The kid changes his clothes about forty eight times a day and does a bunch of other things, too, that I should have noticed but didn’t put two and two together. But licking himself? That’s just weird.

I wonder if other people at the party were looking at Owen and me thinking we were the freaks.

Probably.

 

shopping with children January 27, 2008

Filed under: Uncategorized — the108 @ 5:25 pm

Dearest friends of the bloggosphere….

I have been a bad blogging friend over this weekend and have not had much of a chance to visit your blogs. For this, I apologize. I promise to make it up to you all on Monday when I am inevitably stranded back in my house and unable to leave.

Our tax return came in and so we have busied ourselves doing things that people with larger than normal amounts of money do. We have been paying months worth of bills that have been past due and making preparations for things happening further down the line in 2008 that we will not have the money to do later.

I was astounded by how far behind on bills we had gotten. Paying them off was bittersweet as it took a huge chunk of the tax return but it sort of sucks to know that in a few months, we’ll be behind again. This fuckin’ blows.

I shan’t worry about that right now, though, because some good things were taken care of as well. As stated in a previous blog post, we thought it important to get Dean a laptop so that he may be able to take it with him to Iraq and keep in touch with me and the kiddos. In addition to the laptop, I wanted to buy him a digital camera so that he may take and email me lots of pictures to stick in my blog.

We spent about two hours in Best Buy and, as typical, it was insane.

Here is my family in Best Buy:

Dean: Heads directly to the computer section and inspects every single thing in the joint. Then, he may head over to stare lovingly at the video games wishing like hell we hadn’t pawned all of our game systems to try to pay some of our bills. After he is done doing this, he begins to tense up and freak out because, by this time, the children have gone absolutely insane and Dean can’t handle this.

Me: I head directly to the camera section and fuck with everything. Then, I’ll check out the movie section and troll around looking for shit for the kids. By the time I am finished with this, I usually have a screaming, half naked child under each arm as I casually poke about and dream of things I cannot buy.

Matthew: Parks himself at any of the game consoles and doesn’t budge the entire time. He does, however, get into fights with the men who come to play with him and you can hear his shit talking from across the store.

Owen: Goes back and forth between what Matt is doing and what Olivia is doing. Along the way, he sticks random objects in the cart in the hopes that we won’t notice and might accidentally purchase them for him.

Olivia: This child in a Best Buy is ridiculous. Olivia starts out by immediately getting the first female sales clerk she can find and then she drags the poor woman all over the store and shops with her. First, she heads for the games and picks out a few that she then forces the lady to carry for her. After that, she’ll locate the Hello Kitty and Barbie shit and buy some of that stuff, too. The clerk will continuously return to me with carts full of crap and inform me that Olivia is ready to check out.

“Okay,” I say. ” I have a few things I need to pick up before I go to the register so I’ll just be taking this.”

Then, I grab Olivia’s cart and ditch it in a corner of the store somewhere causing her to rip an ear piercing scream that you can hear all over the store. She couldn’t have been louder if she had first located an intercom and screamed into that. At this point, Dean freaks the fuck out and I calmly pick the child up, toss her over my shoulder after first putting her pants back on that she has removed in some random section and then I take her out to the car. I like to take my time with it, too, sort of parading her loud ass all over the store before leaving. It’s nice to freak people out.

So, Dean got his laptop and I picked out a camera for him… some Olympus do-hickey that is shock proof and sand proof which will be a good thing for Iraq, I think.

I had to put up with all this horse shit and the only thing I’ve wanted to do in regards to the tax return was buy new couches. Our are torn up like nobodies business.

I dragged my family to about 85 different furniture stores which is equally as awful as taking them in Best Buy because now there are beds to jump on and vases to knock over. After a million of these scenarios I finally found an unexpected deal I couldn’t pass up.

I purchased an entire living room made entirely of futons.

Before you think I’m insane, they’re really nice and look just like furniture only they are far more awesome. We got a futon couch and a futon chair and then this huge futon chaise lounge type thingy and it’s awesome. My favorite thing is that they have removable covers that can go in the wash and be replaced without having to buy all new shit. For my family… this is extremely important.

I’d show pictures but they haven’t been delivered yet and it may take a couple of weeks.

Oh, yeah… and I returned my Storm Trooper mobile for the exact same car with fewer miles in red.

Today, I have to take Owen to a birthday party and then go to Belleview to return some shit pertaining to our car.

Tomorrow… blogs are my priority.

Goodbye, my lovelies…

 

hair vs bra January 26, 2008

Filed under: Uncategorized — the108 @ 7:45 pm

My hair is fucking absurd. First of all, it’s extremely thick which makes managing it a bit of a motherfucker. Second of all, it’s also very long and so I get it stuck everywhere. This might sound a bit weird to you, but it’s true. The rat’s nest reaches my elbows and it gets caught in my armpits when I grab at things and I also damn near break my neck sometimes when I accidentally lie on it. This sort of thing, I can understand but yesterday I had a bit of a situation that sucked pretty badly…

I accidentally snapped my hair into my bra.

This sucked monumentally on account of how I did it. I was putting my bra on and had my head tilted back as I clasped all those stupid, little hooks. I got them all connected and then I realized that I couldn’t move my head back down.

“What the fuck?” I said to myself.

I had fastened my hair right up in there, it seemed. And, worse yet, I couldn’t get it out. For some reason, I couldn’t unhook my bra with all that friggin’ hair tangled up in it and my head was stuck facing the ceiling. This was worse than that time I tried to put on that pillowcase thinking it was a shirt. I was screwed.

As usual, I cussed out my bra and my hair. I went on a hostile tirade and verbally abused and swore at my hair for about ten minutes as I wrestled myself around the bathroom trying to free myself. “Fuck you, Hair!”, I spat. “This is bullshit, you ugly, tangly bastard! I hate you!” I don’t know why I do this, really, but I tend to yell at things as if they are human and even I can admit that if there were witnesses they’d think I was out of my friggin’ mind. But at the time, I don’t care and so I raise hell and, in this case, thrashed around like a lunatic trying to get my bra off with my hair maintaining it’s position firmly in my scalp.

I felt like a guy with a stubby leg. You know… one that is slightly shorter than the other. I was involuntarily moving in circles and it was quite bizarre. I assume it had to do with the fact that my head was being forced upwards and I couldn’t see anything but the ceiling and the bright ass lights in the bathroom.

All that tossing myself around (butt neckid other than the bra)I exhausted myself and plopped down on the floor with my knees under my chin… well, I tried to put them under my chin but my fucking head was stuck and so it didn’t quite work out that way. I sat there and tried to figure out what to do. I attempted to calm down assuming that if I were nice to my hair and to the bra then maybe they would cooperate and free me. I was quite scared I was going to have to cut myself out.

For some reason, I kept having these mental images of some poor guy who was receiving a blowjob from a woman with braces. I have no idea why and it upset me even more. Also, my neck was starting to hurt pretty badly. Boy, was I pissed.

After lying around on the floor like a paraplegic for a few minutes, it suddenly dawned on me that I could wriggle out of the bra like it was a shirt and I bolted upright and shimmied it over my head. From there, I flipped my hair and the bra that was tangled in it up over my head so that it fell in front of my face where I could see what I was doing with it. From there, it was like untying a knot. All that flopping around really fucked things up and it took me another half hour to untangle the shit but once I did, I about lost my shit entirely.

“HA! I’m FREEEEEE you fucker!” I stood triumphantly over my bra after flinging it to the ground and gloated in it’s face. My hair was a frizzy mess atop my head but this did not stop me from doing a victory dance and continuing to heckle the bra. “You suck!” I exclaimed as I jabbed at it with my finger. “You thought you could trap me in this bathroom and screw up my neck but I showed you, you pussy! Ha!”

Then, I pulled my hair up in a ponytail and put the bra back on, examined myself in the mirror and commended it for making my boobs look fantastic. Then, I dressed and was out the door.

Victory was mine.

 

Army wives January 25, 2008

Filed under: Uncategorized — the108 @ 8:26 pm

The first thing you do as an Army wife when told your husband is deploying is calculate everything he will be missing while gone. Within minutes of hearing the news I realized that Dean will be missing out on the following:

-My thirtieth birthday
-Emi’s first birthday (field exercise)
-Our tenth wedding anniversary
-all the birthdays and holidays of 2009

Dean doesn’t usually fret so much about this sort of thing and sort of dismissed my thirtieth birthday by saying, “I’ll just make fun of your elderly ass via email” which relieved me somewhat as I giggled at the thought of it.

But then last night as we were lying in bed talking, he was slammed with a sudden realization:

“Emi won’t know who I am when I come home.” he said.

I was silent for a moment as I did the math in my head. Emi will be almost three years old when Dean returns from the desert and, in reality, she probably won’t remember him. I looked at Dean and prepared to try to convince him otherwise but I was stopped when I noticed he was crying. He doesn’t cry very often, especially when discussing deployments, because he doesn’t like to worry me. But this time, he was really upset and although I could tell that he was trying to stop, the tears were there.

This is the first time a soldier cries during war. I suppose it’s knowing what is coming and just how fast it will arrive. There is a certain level of excitement over a deployment… it’s new and interesting and you are the brave soul who is going off to fight for your country and there is a level of pride with that that is like nothing else. We don’t agree with this war and we are scared, but it’s an adventure none the less.

I think the hardest job in the world is being a soldier with children. Having to say goodbye and not knowing if you will get to say hello again is so sad and frightening. In normal every day life, it’s not something you dwell on… in war, it’s all you think about.

We worry about the opposite things in this situation. I worry about how in the hell I am going to survive this time with my four kids, how everything will get done without me ripping my hair out, what to do is something goes wrong… Dean will be bored, tired, hot and missing his babies. I have to juggle and he has all the time in the world to dwell on what he’s missing at home.

I worry about what life will be like when he gets home. After fifteen months with no kids around, he’s going to be overwhelmed by them and they won’t understand. They’re going to be so excited to see him. For me it’s different. I’ll spend fifteen months with them on a schedule and with a routine and then I’ll resent Dean when he returns and stirs the pot. It’s realistic and it’s inevitable. It is what it is.

We got our tax money today and I’m making Dean go buy a laptop and a digital camera to take with him so he can keep in touch and send pictures. It will be the only real way for us to stay in touch and so it has to be done. The kids will love seeing him on the webcam and I am hoping that we can use our distance to strengthen our marriage and figure out our priorities. It will either make us or break us.

But he’s right about Emi. She won’t have a clue who he is even though she will see pictures and hear his voice. At the most, he will be a familiar something to her when he gets back. A “how do I know this person?” sort of thing for her.

When he gets back… I keep saying this. I keep focusing on his return but every once in a while I realize that he might not come back. He’ll be pulling guard in Mosul in northern Iraq and trying to keep the peace so that a war doesn’t break out between Iraqis and Iraqis. I worry about the convoys and I worry about the random shootouts that take place.

I know that I should try to avoid watching the news or hearing anything whatsoever while he is gone but that will be so hard. I also know that Dean will never let on that he is upset or scared and that everything he will say will be positive and to put me at ease.

My blog will get very interesting next year. It’ll be a mix of stories from the war and stories from the homefront while he is away.

It’s gonna be insane.