Act III in "The deployment insanity and the desperate housewives it creates"

I think I'm over this blog. I have no desire to write in it at all. This is probably mostly due to the second funeral I'll be attending this week. From what I hear, it's true that only the good die young.

What I should have done is be anonymous, then you'd REALLY know what I thought about this deployment and how it really feels.

Now for streams of conciousness...

I've also idealized my relationship. All you think about is getting your soldier home alive, until the end, when you start thinking about life afterwards. Our relationship is not perfect. Maybe it's good enough to last forever, but when you set yourself up to think that you'll overlook the "small" things because he/she is home alive, you're wrong. You'll start thinking about them again. Not as much, but they are there. Then you're confused as to how you can be thinking about all the old nuances of the relationship when they're not actually home safely yet.

Plus I've become a royal bitch. I walked out of my son's pediatricians office after waiting for over an hour for an appt. On my way I stopped at the counter and kindly, but firmly said, "I just want you to know that I'm leaving. I've been waiting for over an hour for Dr. X. You guys do this all the time. Making customers wait for 30, 40 and 60 minutes when they have an appt is bad service - and we are customers. You tell Dr. X that we're gone and we're not coming back." I shove the glass door open and stomp off to my car. My son never even was seen. So today, I go to the new Dr. He's nice. He's Jewish and recognizes Asher's name. His office is in an exam room. He asks about Asher's birthing history, full term? weight? normal pregnancy? yes, 7.7 lbs and yes. He asks why I switched and I tell him. He knows the docs at our old place. He offers a defense for them, "Pediatrics is unpredictable, long appointments, etc." I say, my other son is seven, we've been doing this for long enough to know what we should expect. My time is valuable (can you see I'm still pissed?) You know what he does? He shakes my hand and says, "Well, we'll be sure to go above and beyond for you. But please let me know if you have a problem. We want to try and solve it." Sold! We have a new doctor.

And I lash out at everyone in my head. You see I've tried to tame my tounge, but in my head the conversation is downright vitriolic. I have to step back and say, ok, calm the heck down!!! It's just a cookie!!! or whatever. And for some reason, I really want to smoke! I never smoke. I hate cigarrettes. I also have a strong desire to shoot a gun (at a target, people). I need to channel all this anger and frustration and what better than a speeding bullet? And if you're getting ready to prescribe the usual excercise, eat well and sleep. Well, I do that, except the sleeping part. I run, I swim, I chase my kids around and I eat at least a good dinner every day. Sleep is just impossible when you're body still expects another warm body to be in the bed when you get there.