No TickerTape Parade for us--just carrying on with Gabba and Passions.

You know in the movies when the soldiers are going away and the families gather on the tarmac and wave them off? And there is confetti and a congressman and some sort of banner?

We don't get that.

We get to go to the gym, eat danish and punch, and hang out for two hours, at which point a mean soldier says "Thanks for your support families, but we need to go. Soldiers, when I call your name put your bags here and get on the plane." Then the moms grab the kids and there is serious kid crying and wife crying and everyone gets in their cars and goes home.

But Jooj and I don't get that, either.

Because W has been named the mean soldier. He has to kick all of the ladies out. He has to get the refreshments and bus plans and meals for the flight and take care of it all. He has done this two times already and has decreed, in his infinite wisdom, that we will not be attending the farewell.

"I will not have you there making me cry," he says. "I won't be the guy who cries."

I am perfectly fine with that. I am more of a "with your shield or on it" wife. I don't think I could handle seeing him lose it. Mark my words, he will, but it will be on his terms. And that gives me comfort, somehow.

I have only seen him cry one time. It was during our wedding ceremony. He was sniffling and wiping his eyes and I thought "He loves me!" And then right after we went to kiss he whispered "These contacts are killing me!" and ran to the mirror to fix it. In perpetuity, as it were. Then he came back and was ready for the reception. It pretty much set the tone for our marriage.

So we are saying our goodbyes little by little throughout the weekend. On departure day he will go to work like usual, except he won't come home, kind of like usual. I will get a ride and pick up the car at some point, and then I will go on. We haven't talked with Jooj about it too much, because she is too little to grasp it. I will just tell her Papi is at work, then we will watch the video of ~J's dance recital girls and she will move forward.

I did take her to Build A Bear yesterday and she picked out a matching bear for herself and for W. She recorded a message for her Papi inside, "I Yuv Yu Pops!" and dressed him in a soccer outfit--all her choice. Her bear she wanted in an Army Uniform "Es yike me Papi!" and I brought home a thing for W to put a message in when he got home. As he unwrapped it, he got a little sniffly and wiped at his eyes. But Papo and Cay Cay got him Lasik few years back, so I knew it was real.

The Witching Hour

With together time at more of a premium now than ever, W has been staying up with me while I edit and write and hot glue lamb costumes and watch Dr. Who and drink cocoa. As I write this, he is laying next to me on the Love Sac, with Rocket J. Dog, at my feet. Both are snoring. Jooj is upstairs asleep. The Christmas tree is glowing and the house smells like cinnamon.

This is contentment.

Man, I am going to miss this next year.

Do I have any volunteers to sleep next to my elbow and snore a little bit and wake up to get me water when I clear my throat? Because I will need that, you know.
I don't want to make this maudlin or desperate, but I often wonder what I will do. I mean, I know that I will survive and get through and carry on. I know I will end up okay. But what will I do at midnight when I need water and don't want to get up? What will I do when I have a beaver of 110 degrees and just might die if I don't get pudding and my arm on my forehead? What will I do when I need to take a nap after church, but Jooj has other ideas? Those are the things that I worry about.

Because everyone will come and offer help, but no one is going to put up with my needs for drama and pudding and a white burial shroud at the hint of a head cold. I know this.

Curses to W who has spoiled me for the real world. Apparently there are women who do things for themselves. And are fine with it. They make dinner and gas up the car and take off their own shirts even when their arms are just too tired.

But for now I will just focus on the snoring and coziness.
And maybe see if I can stick his hand in some warm water just one time. Because I have always wanted to see if that works.

Hiatus

With the clock ticking, I am feeling more and more stretched. Like a piecrust (which I buy pre-made because they taste just fine and I don't have to roll them out. Suck it, Azucar) that is too thin and your fingers poke through. And then it is not flakey. Except I am flakey.

As of today, I have 38 days left with W. And I have a panic attack almost every night. And I am not saying this for sympathy, just to let you know that I am losing my mind. SO I don't really have anything to share with anyone, because I can't even put a thought together for myself, let alone for the blog.

So I love you, and will see you in 38 days, or when I get my brain back. Have a good holiday!

Our Brush With Fame

So, some other people have already written about the Stalking Santa Screening so just read this or this.

But wait! I saw Bradley Whitford at the Best Buy in Simi Valley!Except that it turned out to be a guy in sweats, and not Bradley Whitford at all.

Living the Hollywood dream, I say.

Sorry that I am not very entertaining. I blame the Jooj.

The Halloween Pimp Miracle

For Halloween we decided to trick or treat with Las Primas, so we went to Balboa Island where Papa Noel had promised to house sit during the night. We made an executive decision to only go a block or two, because the girls are too young to know any better. (Yay for deception!)
As we rounded the pier, we saw a nun drinking wine and watching the ocean. Then she said her name was Sister Mary Seashell and we realized she was not actually a nun. And she had candy! Now Jooj and the Primas will have a really odd view of the Catholic Church.

We kept going along the shore and ran into a bunch of teenagers, dressed like gentlemen entrepreneurs. The girls, now adept at begging for candy, ran up to the kids and screamed "TrickyTreat!" And these kids responded by UNLOADING their candy bags into the girls' pumpkins. I thanked them and said "My, what generous pimps you are!" and the kids thought that was hilarious, and gave them more candy. Jooj couldn't carry her bag any longer, it was so bulging. Naturally, I wanted to preserve the moment that my daughter first received sweets from a strange man in a large, furry hat.

Then we went back to the house and ate all of their booty.
The girls and their Papis
The girls pose with Grammy Su's Gumdrop Buttons
Jooj and "NoNo"

A Brief Interruption

W just sent me a copy of his military orders--the document that details who is going where, for how long, and what they will get paid.

So this is really happening.

And he leaves on December 28.

And there was an ominous line:
Deployment for fifteen months or until mission is completed.

Great.

Queen of the Carousel

Alice and Go-Cougs! leading the way





The first thing we did in California was go to the Disney Halloween Event. We went with Ames, the primas, and Amy's family. It was awesome. Here is why:

1. Everyone was in costume (I went as "tired.")
2. Jooj was operating on TWENTY hours of awake time.
3. Trick or Treating sponsored by FruitABu and Nestle.
4. Didn't go on any rides but one

And what a ride that one turned out to be--the carousel (home of Goo-Goo and Dave--ask Lil~J) is always a favorite with the girls. We waited our turn, picked an animal, and BING! Jooj was crowned Queen of the Carousel! Heidi was less than thrilled. Jooj was applauded by the crowd. Papi was busy talking to Dr. Boyer and missed it.

We will be doing this next year, too. Come join us!
PS: Go Cougs!