Hiatus

Stealing my husband's lingo for an extended absence from blogging, I'll just say that I've been on "a hiatus."

Said hiatus pretty much began the day Ian left. Early in the wee hours of that morning, the call of nature woke me from my slumber and I peed on a stick. The results woke me up faster than a triple shot of espresso injected directly into my veins. "I'M PREGNANT???" WAIT, I MEAN "I'M PREGNANT!!!!!!"

So, yes, I'm pregnant. Needless to say, it was quite the emotional roller coaster that day. We were ecstatic to find out the good news, and were able to celebrate for about 15 hours together before Ian got on a bus destined for Japan. (Well, the bus itself wasn't going to Japan...he had to get on an airplane...oh, never mind.)

Prior to and after Ian's departure, I had East Coast friends visiting. The last one left San Diego just a few days before Aaron and I packed up and headed to the East Coast ourselves. Over the course of about six weeks, I went to two weddings (Congrats Benny and Nick and Blake and Mary!!), spent a week at the family cabin in Maine, saw lots of familiar faces, spent time with family, and even squeezed (squoze) in a week in Newfoundland.

We had a FABULOUS time seeing everyone, but boy, oh, boy, was I glad to get home. There really is no place like home.

But, now that we're here, we've finally had time to let it sink in that Daddy's really and truly on his adventure. I'll be especially blue this Friday, on the 30th anniversary of my love's birth, and I really wish I could spend it with him. Not drinking. Because I can't. Which sucks. But I would TOTALLY DD for him.

At least football season starts soon. (11 DAYS!!) But it won't be the same without a Sam Winter in hand. Well, I suppose it COULD be in hand, just not open. Which is just not as fun.

48 hours

Ian deployed on his second tour of Iraq in February 2009, a mere 9 months after his return from his first tour in May 2008. As a result, he was "guaranteed" (as much as anything in the Marine Corps is ever guaranteed) at least one year stateside before he had to deploy again. 367 days later, he will deploy to the Asian Pacific, and it seems I can't accuse the USMC of not keeping their promise.

Shake, shake, shake

It appears that I will have to start dressing a bit more nicely to lounge around my house, since it seems my presence may be required outside at a moment's notice:

Maybe the Mayans were right...

Whippersnapper

A month or two ago, I bought a membership to the local YMCA. I figured it would be a good time; they have youth programs in addition to a workout facility, a pool, and a sweet playground for the kiddo. In fact, Aaron just finished up a 6-week program called the Y's World of Sports. He spent two weeks each playing soccer, t-ball, and basketball.

More importantly, y'all, they have this glorious thing called Child Watch.

With the family membership I purchased, we get two free hours of child care EVERY SINGLE DAY. They'll watch your kid while you work out or shoot some hoops or whatever it is that you do. They do stipulate, however, that you must remain on the YMCA premises. They're not that dumb. You just sign the kid in, hand him some goldfish and a capri sun, write down your phone number and where you'll be (I haven't yet gotten up the nerve to simply put "napping in my car" in the location field...maybe next week), and off you go.

So off I went.

Today, I tried out the 8:30 am Water Aerobics class. One of the many brochures I was handed along with my membership ID card was the Aquatic Center schedule. It was in this multi-colored brochure that I first saw that this class was an offering. "Designed for ages 12+," it advertised. So I pulled out my new summer bathing suit (yes, it's hotttt.) and headed off.

At 27 years old, I was easily the youngest person in the class. By a lot. Like at least 30 years. The lifeguards must have thought it was "bring-your-great-granddaughter-to-water-aerobics" day.

Apparently, the instructor who usually teaches the class was absent. In her place, Diane the Italian New Yorker, who is everything you're thinking (i.e., accent, talking with hands, Giants fan) gave the lesson. Fully clothed. On the edge of the pool. In long sleeves. She refused to actually get in to the pool.

So imagine the scene if you will. Lifeguards overlooking a heated pool on a balmy Southern California day. Geriatrics and an overweight twentysomething performing such maneuvers as the loud-mouthed, hand-talking instructor called "The Cheerleader," "The Rocking Horse," and "The Penguin."

Maybe I should look in to the 6:15 pm class. I'm pretty sure everyone in today's class would be asleep by then anyway.

In Memoriam...

1st Lt. Jared Landaker, USMC

February 7, 2007

Capt. Kyle Van de Gisesn, USMC

October 26, 2009

This Memorial Day, please take a moment to remember those who made the ultimate sacrifice so that the country they fought to protect would remain safe. R.I.P. and Semper Fi, Jared and Kyle.

You MIght Be a Military Wife...

There are, no doubt, a million of these lists floating around the internet, but below is my own personal list of experiences that have defined me as a military wife. Without further ado, you might be a military wife if...:

• You can't make it through a rendition of the national anthem. Sing it? Can't even make it to the third line without choking up. Same goes for "America the Beautiful," and "My Country, 'Tis of Thee." Play Lee Greenwood's "God Bless the USA" to watch me dissolve in a pool of tears.
• You know that a 96 is an urban legend.
• Your heart breaks a little each time you have to tell your three-year-old that Daddy is on a "trip."
• There is one side of your bed that is significantly more creaky than the other.
• Similarly, your master bathroom has dual sinks, and one of them has seen a lot more use than the other.
• You know to avoid the base commissary on paid weekends.
• Your relationships with women you've known for 6 months are stronger than with the friends you've known all your life.
• Your closest family member lives on the opposite coast.
• Your address book is written entirely in pencil.
• You can have an entire conversation in acronyms. Ex.: "We did a DITY move instead of using TMO when we PCSd."
• You know that Memorial Day, Independence Day, and Veteran's Day are more than just excuses to have a barbecue.
• You recently saw SATC2, and truly couldn't believe it when Carrie was whining about falling into a routine with her husband. Me? I'd give anything to order takeout and watch tv in bed with my husband every night. Two days per week away? Not on your life, sister.
• You read the news feverishly and have your google alerts set to display "Afghanistan," "North Korea," "Iraq," and "Marines."
• You don't turn your phone off. Ever.
• Said phone accompanies you everywhere: the bathroom, the shower, to the kitchen to get a glass of water...
• You consider Westboro Baptists the absolute scum of the earth.
• You welcome your husband home with joy in your heart, but you know that it means that one of your friends is losing hers for awhile.
• You know all the words to the Marine Corps hymn. All three verses.
• You curse when you trip over steel-toed combat boots, but you always straighten them back upright.
• You got married at Christmas, but your wedding colors were red, white, and blue.
• You cheer for a sports team from across the continent.
• You couldn't be prouder to be one.

Life Lessons

THINGS I LEARNED GROWING UP IN THE SOUTH:

• If you can get ready and out the door in under 30 minutes, you shouldn't even bother leavin', sugar.
• It's called a "po'boy."
• (Regardless of flavor) It's called a "coke."
• Thou shalt not be seen in public without make-up or with wrinkled clothes.
• There is no excuse for not writing a thank-you note.
• An iron skillet is a must-have in any kitchen.
• College football is a religion and the SEC is God.
• If the forecast calls for snow in any amount, your presence is required at the local supermarket.
• Tornadoes can happen at any time. Keep cold beer in the basement.

THINGS I LEARNED AT COLLEGE IN NEW ENGLAND:

• If you were unfortunate (or stupid) enough to take an 8:30 class, you slept in your sweats and set your alarm for 8:25.
• It's called a "grinder."
• It's called a "pop."
• There is no excuse for rooting for the Yankees.
• Sam Adams is a must-have in any kitchen.
• The Red Sox are a religion, and Curt Schilling is God.
• If the forecast calls for snow in any amount, you yawn and roll over.
• A blizzard can happen at any time. Keep cold beer in the basement. (Or wherever.)

THINGS I HAVE LEARNED LIVING IN SAN DIEGO, CALIFORNIA:

• Wearing mini-skirts and Uggs is "fashionable." (I HEARTILY DISAGREE.)
• It's called a "sub."
• It's called a "soda."
• There is no excuse for not eating organic food.
• Avocado is a must-have in any kitchen. Also, don't eat the sushi if you live more than 30 minutes from the coast.
• The Chargers are a religion, and Norv is God. (But it seems they'll NEVER make it past the first round of the playoffs.)
• A "marine layer" is COMPLETELY different than "smog." "May Gray" and "June Gloom" are things you'll just have to get over since the other 10 months of the year are beautiful.
• An earthquake can happen at any time. Keep cold beer in a doorway.