Warning: The following post contains images of bug bites that may be disturbing to some viewers. In other words you may not want to look at this while you’re eating.
If you follow me on Facebook, Twitter, or Instagram, you’ve probably noticed there’s been a flurry of activity in our lives the past few weeks. Two weekends ago Brian and I attended BloggyCon ’14 in Sandusky, Ohio. In the middle of last week, we drove to Birmingham, Alabama for Brian’s first grown-up interview. We remembered that the last interview he had was in 2001 at a bookstore in Athens, Georgia. He was hired to remove stickers from the textbooks. That interview probably went something like this:
Interviewer: “Son, have you ever sniffed Goo Gone?”
Brian: “Not that I recall.”
Interviewer: “Well, today is your lucky day.”
I’m pretty sure he was high on Goo Gone that entire summer.
If I’m being 100% honest with y’all, I’d have to say that I reluctantly went to BloggyCon ’14 at Cedar Point this past weekend. Veeeeeeery reluctantly. So much so that I was tempted to call the event organizer and just lay out for her all of the reasons I didn’t want to go:
[Well, that’s a negative attitude. Why couldn’t Katy enjoy herself at one of the happiest places on earth?]
Try not to sing the theme song from The Jeffersons the rest of the day. Just try.
Note: If you’ve never heard of The Jeffersons, you’re too young to read this blog. Please return to your Snapchat. (I recently had to ask a younger individual what Snapchat is, and she SCOFFED at me.)
Granted, I’m even too young to remember anything about The Jeffersons except the theme song. But it sure is a catchy one.
[Seriously? Katy has been AWOL for over a month, and she opens up by talking about The Jeffersons?]
I know, I know. I fell off the grid for over a MONTH with no explanation. Forgive me, but I haven’t quite perfected the art of blogging while juggling children, moving cross-country, and an array of other “issues” that demand my attention lately. One day I will likely share what the last month has entailed, but I’ll leave that for a more appropriate time.
Nothing like a terribly vague post to end a long hiatus, amiright?
With little more than 2 1/2 months remaining in Brian’s Air Force career, we have both been hit with the realization that this is not just a job we’re leaving. We’re not merely moving to a new city or a different house. We’re leaving behind a lifestyle. We’re saying goodbye to a community that we’ll never really be a part of again. Sure, Brian is and always will be a veteran, but there’s a different camaraderie amongst active duty service members and their families.
And while this change is 100% what we want for our marriage and for our kids, the bitter part of the bittersweetness hit us both last Friday night like a ton of bricks.
Or like 50 cannon blasts and an amazing fireworks display.
Nearly one year ago, Brian and I made the commitment to maintain a weekly date night with each other in order to make time for our marriage and to give us approximately 4-6 hours every week where we don’t have to worry about cleaning up another human being’s feces or vomit.
Oh, sorry. You’re not eating, are you?
I almost always plan our date night activities because Brian never cares where we go “as long as we can be together.”
[Okay, NOW I’m going to be sick.]
As I mentioned several weeks ago, Brian is voluntarily separating from the Air Force this fall, and we are in the process of looking for a job, looking for a house, and moving out of our current house here on Fort Leavenworth. In addition Brian is working longer hours this week while I’m wrangling a 2-, 3-, and 4-year-old in 90 degree heat with 337% humidity.
Anxiety cocktail, anyone?
Long before Brian and I had children, one of my absolute favorite TV shows was Supernanny. This was a reality program where a female, British nanny named Jo observed the dysfunction in a household and then coached the parents on how to undo years of bad habits they have instilled in their children. Shows like Supernanny are simultaneously hilarious and disturbing to people without children. Brian and I would sit there — in all our childless naïveté — and bemoan the parental failure on public display.
I mentioned on my various social media accounts yesterday that JJ, our 4-year-old, wished Brian a very happy “Fodder’s Day.”
It’s almost like he knew about this blog and that Brian provides me with an infinite amount of fodder for it.