A birthday party kind of mood...

I'm goin' home, yo.

I leave tomorrow to head to good ole Lancaster, PA for the weekend. It's the last time I see my family before we head cross country to San Francisco.

It's also my brat's birthday (Gavin), aka: My Payback. He's already had two birthday events..one being a birthday dinner in St Lucia with a cake, since Andy is gone for the 5th year in a row. And then his sleepover last weekend, of which the effects are still, well...effecting me. This kid is milking it too. He know what cards to play when it comes to "my daddy missed my birthday again." I think at this point, we can all agree that a normal birthday is without Daddy, so give it up, kid.

This weekend, we are going to my grandparents house and my cousins are coming. And we are having ANOTHER birthday party for him. He will be thrilled at the propect of multiple presents, since mostly it involves birthday cards in the mail, and nothing to open in person. It will be great to see everyone before we go...undoubtedly, we won't be home for a while.

I never seem to have time when I go home to see my friends. I would love to go see one of my best friends, "Waif", as I have called her since high school. But she's another two hours from my moms, and its pretty much a whole day event to drive down and back. It really sucks that we can't see each other more often, but most of my best friends have no kids or little kids and no money. Now I am in the stage I can laugh at them because my kids are old enough to amuse themselves and I have a fair amount of boredom because they also do chores. I can start living again!

Moving across the country again reminds me of when I first left home to get married at 19. A week after my wedding, Andy came up to move our mismatched things down to our humble abode on Ft Benning. My best friends out in the yard of my parents house, saying goodbye. We cried like we were dying. I've always had a flair for the dramatic. Poor Andy must have felt like an asshole...lol. Taking me away from the life and people I knew to move to GA with him and our two month old son.

Now I am moving out west. To a real city. With things to do every day, places to see. Something to experience, other than people going in their pajamas to the grocery store. And I am moving to two of the best friends I have, which I never thought would happen again.

But I feel guilty leaving my family. (Damn conscience.)

My grandparents won't fly. This probably bothers me the most, since they are getting up there in age and I love them to death. My grandfather had a quadruple heart bypass last spring, and I was by his side for a week. They have to be a priority to me to come home to see regularly.

My sisters are starting their families. I don't want to miss my nephews and niece's adoption. But I don't think that realistically, we will be able to fly back as soon as this summer. Births, I will be home for. I will not miss those.

My parents are on their own. After two years of living with me, my dad is moving back to PA. It's like they are just starting over again with life, by themselves.

I hate to leave them.

But I know I have to. I knew from the time I was about 10, that I would need to go far and away. I have that wandering spirit. That's why the military wife gig suits me. I need new things, new places, and new people. I take only the bare minimum friends with me...keeping in touch is hard and it's about quality.

Now I am kind of sad. But excitement reigns in my body. I am going to break it down.

Random rant about Babies…and other ships that have sailed:

I don’t know if it’s that whole “biological clock” thing that everyone talks about, but lately I have wanted to have a baby. (GASP) I know that is the most shocking and disturbing thing I have said in the past ten years. I kind of want to wash my own mouth out with soap….and then violently cut out my tongue with bolt cutters.

One reason is that they smell good. And they are cuddly. I have a constant battle with my sons about the finer points of deodorant and Stridex pads. With babies, you still have everything to experience with them: The First Day of School, getting to see what their personalities are going to be like. My kids are boring! I already know them, and let me tell you…they are NOT all that fascinating right now. They don’t believe in Santa anymore…they don’t even play with toys anymore. It’s all about video games, skateboarding and giving me looks of disgust. Telling me how I need to stop living their lives for them now that I am 31 because mine is over. (Yeah, they kind of got me on that one, for right now anyway.)

I keep waiting for my sisters to have babies so I can smother them with kisses and give them sugar, and laugh hysterically when their kids fill the cat’s ears with ketchup. No, but seriously, I want to have my nieces and nephews every summer for a week. I want all my kids cousins to be close to them, just like I was with my cousins. Unfortunately, the only way this is going to happen is if they come stay with us. The good thing, is that we live far away so they can’t just drop in for babysitting.

So why don’t I have another baby? There are a few reasons, one being that Andy can’t. I forced him to be the one to get fixed after I had pretty much two pregnancies, back to back. Evidently birth control was not one of my strong suits, so left to my own devices, I would probably have 12 kids by now and live in a shoe, undoubtedly, a Birkenstock, not a Jimmy Choo. Secondly, my kids are 10 and almost 12. I would be a complete moron to start over, just when the finish line is in sight. I guess I will just have to continue admiring from afar until my clock breaks completely.

Or until my children continue on the pattern of teen pregnancy in our families, and make me a grandmother before I turn 40, which is more likely the story.

Countdown to KP Duty

So, Andy comes home last night and tells me we are having 13-15 people over for Thanksgiving.

While this is not a new feat to tackle, I had hoped to keep our guestlist to a minimum number of single soldiers this year. I was thinking, 3 or 4. Instead, he invited ALL of the single soldiers and even a few couples. I am not a mean person, but I don't have room for all of these people. All night long, I find myself wondering "would it be wrong to make my kids, my parents or the soldiers eat in the other room?"

After I had my 5-minute freakout...I realized this is manageable. After the first several times you host large groupings of men in their late teens/early twenties and you see how much they eat, you don't feeling guilty handing out assignments as to what they can bring with them. Married couples have cooking facilities, so they are more than capable of providing some sort of side dish. Always give your husband the menu so he can relay what you are already making, dodging the awkwardness of "oh, ANOTHER jello mold!" (Okay, so no one makes jello molds anymore, but you get the idea.) Single soldiers can bring the rolls, the pies, the drinks...things that don't require cooking and that they can pick up at the store.

Another word to the wise, unless you want these people at your house for the next 24 hours, plan to eat around 1 or 2pm. Army guys have a tendency to like to drink beer, and before you know it, they are playing poker or watching football or napping while you trying to tame the carnage that is left. One New Years Eve, we had invited a couple over (my first time meeting them) and not only did she leave her drunk husband at my house for the night....she came back the next day with bags full of groceries, let herself in, cooked breakfast in MY kitchen while I was asleep, and proceeded to stay the entire next day until about 10pm!!! She didn't even bring her husband a change of clothes! I will never invite these people over again because I don't know if they will ever leave.

Buy yourself a bottle of wine and save it for after the dishes. Or better yet, put your feet up and enjoy a glass while your husband leads the platoon in KP duty.