The whole thing has been one big adjustment, but the thing I am struggling most with is just how crazy busy we are. I knew Brandon would be working more, which would be tough for me. . . but I was expecting it to be kind of like travel nursing where I was sitting around bored with nothing to do. SO not the case here!
I'll give you a couple of examples to prove how little free time I've had. These might not mean much to you unless you know me "in real life" but if you know me well, you'll be shocked. ;)
- I started a new novel over a week ago and am only halfway through it.
- I've had my household goods for over a week and still haven't hung pictures or curtains.
- I've completely missed the new episodes of Burn Notice and Leverage. . . and haven't taken the time to watch them online.
- I have been eating-- are you ready for this?-- TV DINNERS and FAST FOOD.
4:30 am. Crawl out of bed and start the coffee while Brandon goes for a run. Drink my coffee and try to wake up before he comes home. Feed the dogs and make the bed.
5:00 am. Brandon comes home and does pushups and situps while I start breakfast. I have it ready and on the table when he gets out of the shower.
5:30 am. Breakfast with Brandon, then my turn in the shower.
After this, the day becomes a total blur of cleaning, laundry, waiting in offices, paperwork, phone calls, unpacking, meetings, social events, errands, inprocessing, orientations, etc. . . I usually don't even remember crawling into bed.
Yesterday, we decided to schedule ourselves for an hour of tv time together. We wanted to watch the new episode of Chopped, which came on at 9:00 pm. So we worked until then, sat down in front of the tv. . . and I was asleep before the first round was over. One hour of downtime together and I slept through the whole thing!
There have been a lot of changes since I last blogged. We moved into our on-base house and our household goods arrived (obviously). We've made friends and love our neighborhood. Brandon is almost finished inprocessing and will hit the floor next week. There are so many things I want to share about his job and this new life, but I'm going to leave it with one story today. . . and story about a very, very bad day.
The day I realized I'm getting old.
It began with a car shopping trip. We left our second vehicle in Arkansas and are selling it. . . it's the one I drove around, a 13 year old tiny little car that isn't really doable with kids (but sure is fun to drive!). We were going to just drive the one car for a few months, but it's had to go in the shop four times in the last few months and needs to go again. So, it was time for a reliable car for me.
I went in expecting to get a mid-size, semi sporty car. Something fun to drive but that would seat three kids in the back (if you're new, here's the deal-- we're in the adoption process and are approved for up to three kids). As we test drove vehicles, I realized that was impossible. Three kids don't fit into the back of a mid-size, sporty little car. . . especially if all three are in booster seats or car seats. Plus, what if a hurricane hits? I'll have to evacuate and Brandon will have to stay here. So how would I fit three kids, suitcases, important documents and photo albums, a cooler (for formula or snacks or whatever the kids need) and two dogs into a car??
So. . . we bought a minivan. A big, dorky, purple minivan. I call it "The big rolling Barney." I drive a minivan. A minivan. No matter how many times I say it, it still just feels wrong. I'm still in my twenties! I still wear cute shoes and tight jeans! A minivan?!
It got worse.
When I picked up a bottle of wine, they didn't even card me.
That evening, when I drove onto base, the guard at the gate called me "Ma'am." He was probably 18-20. I looked at him and saw a peer. He looked at me and saw a woman driving a minivan. A "Ma'am."
Later that night, during a conversation with Brandon about one of our new friends, I asked Brandon,
"How old do you think she is? My guess is early thirties."
"No way. She looks way younger than you."
. . .
So, folks, it's official. I look old. I look old and I drive a minivan and people call me "Ma'am." Oh, and instead of going out to the movies, my husband and I choose to watch cooking shows for our date nights. . . and I fall asleep during them, at nine pm.
I guess it's time for me to start wearing mom jeans and holiday themed cardigans.