Redeployment is upon us.
My heart just went all kinds of loco just then!!
It's not tomorrow, or next week, or anything super soon like that, but it's so close I can taste it and it has made me, happily, insane.
I feel this sense of urgency about things. I mean, if I were a superhero my name would be Samantha: The Anti-Procrastinator. I'd go around in my cape, and colored undies (because obviously), poking people until they finished their to-do lists.
But, I am a woman on a mission. Fo shizz. But, the difference between me and crazy is that I'm not stressing. At all. It's kind of like, in the back of my head, I think that the more I get done the quicker he'll be here. Which, is kind of true. Anyway. For instance, I have to grocery shop, go to my gyno appointment, and head to Nashvegas with my fabulous friend, and her wee daughter, next week. I'm all kinds of "LET'S DO THISSSSSS!!!!" I guess you could say I am fueled by copious amounts of energy.
Never will you see someone so excited to grab groceries, or to become well-known by a member of the medical community. I'm all "Do what you gotta, sister. Pretty soon, I won't need to find delight in these appointments anymore"
Every single day that passes is a day closer to the hubster being on U.S. soil. SQUEEEE!!!!
I get to pick out my outfit, and get new makeup, and decorate, and dress the boy in awesome threads....
Oh, and I have about the first 12 dinners planned for when he gets here.
Have I mentioned I'm excited?
Hey, hey, hey now. I've neglected to mentioned something of uber importance: I'll get to shave my legs!!
Not to seem like I'm a hairy wildebeast, but, let's be real, I don't shave unless it comes of utmost necessity. I mean, really. No one is feeling up on these bad boys. Hey, don't judge.
AND, I think I've planned our post-deployment vacay. WADDUP. It'll be our first family R & R since having J-stud, and it's going to be epic. Totes!
Oh, and since I'm rambling anyway, you should know that I get wicked excited about laundry. Yesterday, Mr. Rogers was right, it was a beautiful day in the neighborhood. So, I had diapers out on the clotheslines, and the dogs were laying on the patio enjoying a good sun-bath, and I'm inside, pacing the tile, with the internal monologue that went something like this:
Jake, if you could please wake up from your 3 hour nap that'd be great. I mean, we've got shizzola to accomplish today. At first, I didn't want to go out because it's the day after payday, but I figure the need for toilet paper outweighs my fear of getting elbowed by a crazy shopper, whose husband probably just deployed and she's looking for a fight anyway. Plus, I mean, my hair looks pretty good today, except for the fact that my roots are starting to grow out and I'm not getting my hair did for a little while longer so that it can be all fresh for when daddy gets his handsome hiney home. Between my hair and my welcome-home outfit and, oh yeah, abstinence I'm pretty sure he'll think I look pretty effing hawt, waiting for him to march into that hangar and be officially declared mine again. But, I'll have to remember to clean right before he gets here. I did a heavy duty clean a few weeks ago, but there's no way I'm doing it again, and then again, before he gets here. The house will have to survive. And, do I have the welcome-home banner I used when he got home from the second deployment? I should find that. Or, think about ordering a new one. How should I decorate the house? After I clean, obviously. I wonder what time his flight will land? Will I sleep the night before he gets here?....
To say I am excited might be the understatement of the century.