Author: callsignmommy2

Defining “Dependents”

I had big (huge) plans for a witty and heartfelt post this morning about…something. Something you’d be SO excited to read. Okay, not really. And that’s why when I found this post at the great military spouse blog “They Call Me Dependent,” it just seemed the perfect solution to the lazy blogger’s conundrum. It isn’t that there’s nothing going on at our house — on the contrary, we have scheduled our pack out dates and I’m basically looking at two months of homelessness prior to actually GOING to our new destination — more on all that later. Turbo believes that we are moving because he will soon turn 4 — or at least the two things always come up in the same sentence for him: “I’m going to be 4 so we’re getting a new house.”  Ah… to be that self-centered! 🙂 

Anyway, among all the other things I’m forced to be on a daily basis, the reality is that I am a military spouse under (above?) all else — this one definition of me determines pretty much everything else that I am, since it mandates when we move, where we live, how long we’re there, where my kids go to school and pretty much everything else in our lives that other people can decide for themselves. SO, please take a moment to read today’s post at “Anything but Dependent.” And cheers to some great writing by another military spouse!

Six Word Sunday

I know, it’s supposed to be Six Word SATURDAY… I know. It’s been a long weekend. I promise there’ll be “real” posts later this week. And no, I’m not promising that in the same way that I promise that there will *probably* be time for more Dragon Tales after the bath and before bed. Oh, hey, look at the time… even Mommies can be wrong. Valuable lesson. Go to bed.

And now for the six words. And yes, I realize that the above kind of defeats the purpose of the below. Shut up.

House viewing Saturday… offer impending? PLEASE?

Invasion of the Tomato Snatchers

I’m a closet gardener. Wait, is that really possible? No — because gardening is something you do outside that other people actually see. So I’m not so much a closet gardener, as one who doesn’t feel totally adept at a hobby that has come to mean a lot to me. I love digging in the dirt, watching something grow (something that doesn’t talk back and is happy to drink it’s water when I’m damned well good and ready to give it and not a moment before!!)  I love the peace that comes with doing something outside, feeling a part of something bigger than me… And while I’m terrified of bees (I’m allergic and they will literally. kill. me.), I have even come to a peaceful arrangement with the bees that pollinate my flowers.

I wasn’t going to plant vegetables this year. But we’re showing the house and my sad little raised bed looks pretty forlorn with nothing growing in it. So for Mother’s Day, I got myself some new dirt, fertilizer and planted some tomato and basil.  I set up the automatic watering system (very high tech), and voila! Now I just have to wait, right?

Not right. Perhaps I’ve mentioned before that I don’t love the environment in which we live… it’s hot and windy and desolate. And evidently there are large insects or evil bunnies or something that steal entire tomato plants right out of gardens!  I went out today to play with the kids, and quizzed Turbo at great length about what might’ve happened to two of my four sad little plants.  He knew nothing, or so he said… and I actually believe him.

One more reason to be excited about the move, regardless of the details, right?

That’s it?

I know I’m supposed to post today about how wonderful it is being a mom.  And I’m sure that it’s my civic responsibility to do so.  But I have to be honest that sometimes I don’t feel that way.  Don’t get me wrong — I love those little nuts, and I honestly wouldn’t give them back, ever, even knowing everything that I know now.  But whoever invented Mother’s Day surely was over 50 and did not have toddlers at home.  She had forgotten that no matter how you might try, it is impossible to make a toddler be anything other than a completely selfish ego — they just haven’t gotten to appreciation yet.  My kids show me love and affection on a daily basis, and I love that.  But they also make unreasonable (and somewhat reasonable, just poorly timed) demands all day, every day, and the fact that Turbo wants apple juice and the next episode of Dragon Tales on Netflix right F-ing NOW doesn’t change because it’s my special day.  There were no facials or massages, no “you go ahead and take the day off, honey” type things going on here at our house.  I spent part of the day trying to get over a very surprising sense of disappointment that came when the Major told me that he thought the odds were good that we’d be living in base housing after this move.  I have seen the housing in our next place — it’s not bad… but I have really come to love owning a home.  I have poured my heart into this house and have found a love for gardening and home renovation that will not have a place in base housing.  Plus we’ll lose two bedrooms, a ton of storage, a home gym and any chance of me ever having an office again.  Our neighbors will leave all their crap in their front yards and so will we — cuz that’s just what you do — and we’ll all know intimate details of each others’ lives.  Happy Mother’s Day.  I’m pouting, and I know it. And this surely isn’t interesting to read… and I’ve gotten way off on a tangent here. This is not about base housing. It’s about me hoping to love Mother’s Day more when these boys are a bit bigger.  Because without major orchestration from the Major at these ages (and I love him, but he’s just not that kind of organized unselfish guy), there’s no way it’s going to be any different from any other day.  Next year, when we live in base housing, perhaps it will be better.