"Only once in your life, I truly believe, you can find someone who can completely turn your world around." -Bob Marley
Yep, the title of this blog is from a Backstreet Boys song. Wanna know how many fucks I give? ZERO! They might be Backstreet Men now, but I still live in a land where the Backstreet Boys are speaking to my 16-year-old soul. Three kids doesn't change that thought process at all. God, they're gonna be so embarrassed by me someday. Awesome! My laptop screen is shot. It just dawned on me that maybe I could do this shit on my phone. I'm so tech savvy! So, my apologies for any weird formatting or fun autocorrects! Alright, on with the blog...
We are in the downhill six months. Mr. Streetlight is halfway done. You know what that means? That means I need to stop slacking off on Zumba... Ok, I'm kinda just kidding. He doesn't give a damn. I do, but he's like, "Meh." Every morning I wake up and do a sort of happy dance and figure that has to count for some type of exercise. It seems like it's been a million years since he's been home. We got to be married a whole 12 days before he had to go. I find it sort of weird that I've been married this long and still have absolutely no idea how to be married. Oh well, I guess. I've always been a fly by the seat of my pants kinda gal.
It's been hard so far. SO. HARD. I've spent a lot of time crying. I feel really pathetic admitting that, but it's true. Sometimes I feel like I'm gonna snap from frustration, but then I remember how many other wives and husbands are out there doing the exact same thing. I keep reminding myself that I'm not the first girl in history to miss her husband. Hell, not even the first of my friends or family. I look to those ladies for help to get through the shit. The way a seasoned army wife looks in the eyes of a fledgling like me is amazing. You look at this hardass woman, and think, "Goddamn, she's a tiger, and I'm a kitten."
It's gonna feel like it's taking forever now, but at least I have a lot of crap to keep myself busy with. My twins turn one this month. ONE YEAR OLD? What? Where are my babies? This time last year I was hot and miserable and hated everything. Now, I have these almost walking and almost talking little girls. I wanna know who swapped my little five and six pound babies with these kids. I swear this happened overnight. It had to have. My boy is huge. I can't believe it. He'll be three in a few months. Somebody needs to make this stop. My kids are not allowed to grow up. If they grow up, that means I'm growing up. I don't like this concept. I refuse to believe I will be 23 in less than three weeks. I still feel like I belong in high school, not like going to college and stealing my grandma's coupon inserts for the best deal on toilet paper. Ew. Grown up stuff. Le sigh. At least I found the right person to drive nuts for the rest of forever. We remember all of each others' stories. Half the trouble we got into was together. There's always that. I always talked poor Mr. Streetlight into dumb shit. Just ask him. He'll tell you. Usually with a shake of the head and a sigh. It's safe to say we're gonna be that couple in the old folks home driving everyone insane with our antics because none of our kids will be willing to deal with our shenanigans. My poor kids.
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