E and I tend to scram when S is going to have a heavy workload; this is reason number one we are in Georgia for the fourth time in six months. Sure, there are other reasons like: Washington make me want to rub my face on pavement, I needed an entire week that was a temperature over 55 degrees consistently, and that damn volcano.
I swear, if that thing ever erupts in my lifetime, it will be while I am living within proximity of that shitstorm.
Anyway, this summer, S's unit is providing the support for the training camp all ROTC students must attend before commissioning as officers. Since learning of this huge undertaking a bagillion months ago, we have been repeatedly told why we would never see our spouses. Ever. It's a 27/7/60 kind of job. It was brought up at every FRG meeting and every coffee group I have been to since the beginning of the year, and each time we were reminded that we would be seeing very little of our guys and girls.
My thoughts on this subject went a little something like this: 3 hours of regular family time daily/new summer schedule = my brain exploding.
So, I decided to bring the munchkin home for a visit with her favorite people and keep my sanity. Because, well, we have officially entered the terrible twos. It's tantrum city up in here, and anything from a dirty look to not being allowed to lay in the middle of the road during rush hour results into a 5 minute melt down followed by even less cooperation.
She's been having a blast. She loves her Ya-Ya, Grampa, and uncle, and all of the time she has been getting to spend with them. She blossoms every time we come "home;" her language skills flourish, she makes incredible strides developmentally, and she becomes so independent and helpful. She has taken on the job of making sure every door in the house is always closed, she grabs someones hand and pulls when she wants to go do something, she has decided she no longer needs to sit in the high chair. Her sentences have gotten longer and more complex; being around other people who love and adore her every day has just made a huge difference... She is more herself. It just further cements in my mind that WA is not the place for us.
If it weren't for my husband and pets and HHG (House Hold Goods) all being there, I probably would never go back. Ever.
The worst part about hating where we live is not being able to talk about it with most people. The second I do, they assume we don't go do things or explore, or plan play dates or see friends. They think I just need to "make the best of things," and if I don't like it, I haven't tried very hard... or at all. The military community can be very judgemental, sometimes, and when a spouse voices her dislike for anything, there can be a mass-attack.
I don't think any of them really realize that that just makes things worse. It's not working. I'm miserable all. The. Time. And either that is affecting my child or she is miserable, as well. I just wish someone would say: "You know, it's okay that you hate it. I hate it, too." Or "I'm sorry you aren't having fun. I wanted to gouge my eyes out when we lived at Fort___." However, everyones instinct is to say "I LOVE Fort Lewis. There is so much to do and here are all of the reasons why." Follow by all of the above.
The good news is, we will get to leave. Someday. The bad news is: I don't know when, and it's probably at least a year and a half away.
Okay, I have to stop thinking about Washington. I can feel my soul slowly slipping away. In the meantime, I am going to try to forget it exists and instead focus on the sun, the warm, the thunderstorms, the friendly people, and our amazing family, instead.
Except the humidity. It can go straight to hell with Washington.
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