In which we are food snobs...

Today has been one of those days where I just feel frumpy and awkward. I've been really tired lately (No Dad, I'm not pregnant) and I think today it just caught up with me.

I was in the kitchen baking cookies for Sweet Husband's soldiers as Sweet Husband washed the dishes for me (*swoon*).

Sweet Husband sighed and said "I have to tell you something, and you're not going to like it".
He paused briefly before continuing "I've been seriously craving spaghetti with that powdered parmesan cheese in a can..."

My spoonful of cookie dough dropped to the counter with a clunk, and I gaped at him in horror.

"I will buy you real parmesan cheese." I gasped, as I waited for my heart to resume beating again "I thought you were going to say 'Those jeans look awful on you.' I was prepared for that."

It was Sweet Husband's turn to look at me in horror "Why would I say that?!" he gasped.

I held up my cookie dough encrusted hand "Because it's true. I was prepared for that. You can't just spring cheese flavored potato starch on somebody!"

He grinned "I did say you weren't going to like it."

I grimaced "You know how I feel about it. There is nothing worse than cheese products that don't need refrigeration." I grinned as I saw him shudder slightly.

I was mentally giving myself a point for messing with him when he turned and gave me a slow grin "Babe, you know I'm a classy guy. It's all about eating *trashiest fast food restaurant ever* off of your stomach."


I mentally erased my point. He won. Hands down.

I need a shower.

Expect The Unexpected & All That Jazz

After six long months of Army purgatory, Sweet Husband has received his orders. Our family will be embarking on a new adventure starts next spring.

But let me back up.

In December, a mere six weeks after Sweet Husband returned from deployment, his unit made the announcement that it was deactivating in June and everyone would be up for orders. This was unexpected for us, as Sweet husband had re-enlisted with the added bonus that we would remain at our current post for a minimum of 12 months after the deployment ended.

We began to prepare for the move. Sweet husband became proactive in trying to choose a new post. But because of the “you-don’t-have-to-move bonus, he had to jump through extra hoops to “voluntarily” forfeit the benefit.

Days turned into weeks.

Weeks turned into months.  

We found ourselves in Army purgatory.

We were finally given the green light to proceed and Sweet Husband contacted his manager to request orders. He had been given a list of available options and together, we chose our top two choices. One was a mere four-hour drive from our hometown and families.

The other was six-hours away from our grandparents and seven-hours away from our parents.

We floated on marshmallow clouds as we went back to our hometown to visit our families. We had practically been assured one of our picks. We were just waiting for the official confirmation.

Then Sweet Husband checked his email.

Your space has been reserved in the recruiting school. See you next spring….

(I’m paraphrasing)  

Recruiting?

Next Spring?

……………?

I’ve had a couple weeks to really let this sink in.

Recruiting is a three year commitment.

That means for three years we won’t have to worry about deployments or moves.

That’s pretty exciting!

I was sharing this with my dad over the phone one night.

Me: We’ll actually get to live together for three whole years!!

My dad: That’s great!

Me: I know! The last time we actually got to live together for three continuous years was… Never-

That’s right. Sweet Husband and I have never lived together for three continuous years.

We’re getting ready to celebrate our ninth wedding anniversary.

What’s more, since we’ve become a military family six years ago, we haven’t lived together for a solid year. There’s always been some type of deployment, or out of state training that lasts longer than a month.

I won't lie, I'm freaking out a little. 

So I did the only reasonable thing I could think of. I called a friend and asked if I could spaz out for a minute. 

After all the spazzing, I talked to Sweet Husband

Me: I'm freaking out about living with you for three continuous years. What if you finally figure out how neurotic I really am?

Sweet Husband: I knew you were neurotic before I married you. You can't scare me.

Best. Husband. Ever!