Odds and Ends

There is so much to do. If only I knew where to start. Instead of doing something productive, I'm living in a state of denial and doing nothing. Our packers will be here Wednesday morning at 7:30am.

It's nice being a part of the military (sometimes). Not only do they drive our household goods to our new home free of charge, pay us a "replacement fee", give us gas money, pay us per pound to move the stuff we are taking in our cars, and per diem for each member of our family for food for 6 days worth of traveling (which one person is completely incapable of spending that much money on food in the course of one day), but they pack and box our entire house as well. Not one thing about our house at the moment says "we're moving." Pictures are on the wall. Clothes are still hanging in the closet. Dishes are in the cupboard. Everything looks as it has looked for the past five years. Then Wednesday will come and in "6 to 8 hours", everything we own will be boxed, labeled and recorded by two men that we were told we should have donuts for. I guess the donuts insure a careful packing.

6 to 8 hours. I don't know if I will physically and emotionally be able to witness my current house carelessly boxed away. But at the same time, I know I'm not physically and emotionally capable of doing it myself. So I suppose I'll buy some donuts, drop them off, then head to the park for a playdate with the kids and friends while Joe sticks around to witness the gutting of our house. I'll return once everything has disappeared into brown boxes and wonder how on earth something I have spent years making, cleaning and keeping in it's place took two (most likely stinky) guys 6 to 8 hours to pack away. It's an uncomfortable feeling.

I'm anxious for it all to be over with though. The anticipation of moving has lasted long enough and I need it to be done with already. All this preparing and stress has made me sick. Literally. I feel lousy. And I'm tired. I wonder why. Could it be I'm moving? Could it be I'm pregnant? Could it be my active 15 month old Henry? Who by the way is for rent. For two weeks only though. Then we want him sent right away to us in Kansas. But you have to figure out how to get him to us, because I sure as heck am not looking forward to driving with him to Utah. Then to Arizona. Then to Kansas over a two week period. Phew. That's going to be fantastic. Or totally NOT fantastic at all.

Could it be adding another boy to the family has me a little tired at the thought? No, that doesn't make me tired at all. That makes me unbelievably giddy. We had a very informal ultrasound the other day and we're 75% sure we're having another boy. I honestly am so excited. We'll still see what the official ultrasound reads, but right now, I'm thinking boy all the way and couldn't feel more blessed. After all these years of being outnumbered, Joe will have his two little guys to even things out. Boys vs. girls. Sounds perfect to me.

All in all, I don't think we could handle much more excitement over here. We're eagerly awaiting and very positive about our future. Although if one more person gives me their pitiful, I-feel-sorry-for-you look, and voices their unjustified, because-you've-never-been-there and know nothing about the terrible "weather, wind, tornadoes, flatness, nothing-to-do-there, blah, blah, blah" opinions about Kansas, I'm going to sock them in the face. So FYI to anyone out there who has never, nor knows anything about Kansas and where we are going, I am pregnant and stressed, and might be (100%) willing to give you a black eye if you say something mean.

But thanks anyway for your unwarranted and unwanted opinion. Have a nice day.

June 2010

It was December 15, 2004. Gabriella was a week old. We were in the ghetto of St. Louis, in our little, lower income housing apartment. It was early in the morning. Our piece of crap computer wouldn't connect to the Internet. We had to get on the computer to find out where Joe had matched for residency. We were dying to see if we got our number one pick-Ft. Lewis Washington. Finally it was late enough in the morning (probably like 7:30 am-we could hardly wait any longer) that we called our good friend who lived two doors down to see if we could use their computer. We bundled Gabs up, put coats on over our pajamas and walked through the snow to her house. Finally the Army web site loaded. Emotions were running wild. My heart was pounding. And sure enough, we matched just where we had hoped! We saw the report dates of June 2005-June 2010.

June. Two. Thousand. And. Ten.

I remember sitting in my friends kitchen at her computer staring at that date. It seemed forever away. I couldn't imagine that date ever arriving. It seemed so far off. Like it would be an eternity until 2010 came. Almost impossible even.

But a few months later I remember, once we first got here to Washington, driving down Center St. in our neighborhood telling Joe that I didn't want to "wish the next five years away." I wanted to enjoy residency. I wanted to enjoy life as it was. No matter how sick of his hours I got. Or how lonely I felt when he was working months away from home. I wanted to enjoy these years. Because we'll never get them back. And we'll never get to live them over again. And whether we liked it or not, time does go by. And five years will pass. Residency will be over.

Well, June 2010 came.

And Joe graduated. He is no longer a resident. He is officially an Otolaryngologist-Head and Neck Surgeon (as written in his graduation program). And sure enough, we did enjoy his residency. "Proud" doesn't even begin to scratch the surface of my feelings about my husband. Not even close. I know my husband. I, of course, think he has wonderful qualities. Most of those qualities involve the type of man he is with me, and the type of father he is to our children. His commitment to the gospel and his loyalty to family and friends. His honesty and work ethic. I think he's pretty fantastic. But I don't go to work with him. I don't see him in action in clinic or when he's operating. I hardly even think of him as a physician or surgeon. He's just my great husband who goes to work, comes home 12 or so hours later, and throws the kids on the couch and makes them scream. It's normal. But this weekend, I was able to hear from his superiors and colleagues that those "at home" qualities carry over 100% to his career. He is a hard worker. He is a wonderful teacher to other residents. He goes to work and is a great surgeon. And he is well respected by those he works with. I really don't know how I could be more proud of him and his accomplishments!

What a great five years it has been. I'm sad it's over. I really am. I keep telling everyone that I could live in this situation forever. I'm not one to always be looking forward to what's coming next. I don't believe the grass is greener on the other side. I don't need anything more than what I have right here, right now. My husband has a job. My kids are young and healthy. We love where we live. We have a nice life style. I would be perfectly happy living this life for the rest of my life.

But my husband can't be a resident forever. He, on the other hand, is completely ready to move on. With his career at least. He deserves to move on too. So this weekend we were able to celebrate with his parents and his department his accomplishments. We will be moving on. And we are very excited about that green grass we will be moving to. But we will always, always hold a very special place in our hearts for these past five years and Ft. Lewis Washington. Because it really has been the time of our lives.

1st day of work-June 17, 2005

Intern Graduation-June 2, 2006

Residency Graduation-June 4, 2010 (Remind me not to let strangers try and take pictures with my camera. And please don't mention the fact that they had to wear those awful camo's to graduation-Joe was NOT happy about it)

A perk of delivering where your husband works-March 11, 2009

Farwell/Good luck in Kansas gift from residents-Ruby Clogs-June 5, 2010.

Side Note: They made a joke at graduation that you could easily pick out which graduating doctors were surgeons because they were the ones with super gray hair. I had already told Joe's mom earlier that morning that I wish I had a picture of Joe's hair above his ears from when he started residency to compare to now. Because man alive, has residency sure made him gray! Luckily, I think gray is a great color for him.