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.
The next time someone asks me what I do for a living, I’m going to pull out the following photo and show it to them.
I’m a mommy blogger. So, I basically force my husband and kids to do fun things with me so I can blog about them.
I poured through my photos yesterday (Thursday) in an attempt to come up with the perfect TBT photo. Dad, since I know you’ll ask, TBT (Throwback Thursday) is when people post old photos of themselves on social media or blogs. Not old as in, “Check out my crow’s feet in this photo,” but old like, “Hey, check out my ALF t-shirt.”
I have plenty of pictures of both, by the way.
I think one of the most difficult aspects of blogging for me isn’t the writing, the photo editing, the video editing, or the constant need to be “in the know” technologically. No, the most difficult part for me is this black hole time waster called the Internet.
I spend at least 75% of my dedicated blog time asking myself the question, “Why in the WORLD am I reading this?”
[Funny, I often ask myself that same question while here on this blog.]
It has become a ritual of mine to take photos of the cemetery here on Fort Leavenworth at various times of day, in different seasons, on holidays, and under certain weather conditions. There’s something about the pristine uniformity of this military cemetery that makes it so beautiful to me. And never is that more true than when the grounds are covered in a blanket of clean, undisturbed snow.
I look at the innumerable headstones and remember that each one represents a living soul: a man, woman or (in some cases) teenager who was willing to take an oath to defend our nation against our enemies.
This post is not as much for the entertainment of my loyal readers as it is solid evidence for JJ to produce when his future therapist asks the question, “So when exactly did the nightmares begin?”
JJ will pull up his shirt sleeve to reveal the smartphone imbedded on his forearm. He’ll say, “Siri, show me the photo.”
Sometimes I’m able to capture my children in a way that—despite my photographic ineptitude—will forever stick in my mind. This is one of those instances.
Well, we had our first snowstorm of the season this week, and I can’t even begin to tell you how excited we’ve all been about it. So, I’ll show you in a photo:
I’m not gonna lie; it was difficult for me to leave PetSmart on Sunday without a bearded dragon (last time it was a fancy rat). I’ve got the itch again, y’all. The itch for another living thing that requires constant care and nurturing. Brian thinks I should quit entertaining this reptilian fantasy and just have another baby already. I don’t know. Bearded dragons sound so much less terrifying than toddlers. And they’re way better at peekaboo.