Dear Darla Diaries

sperm by itself will not a baby make

When discussing my fertility problems with two heavily engrossed nursing students and a 21-year-old (and mother of a 2-year-old boy) the funniest comment came up.

Maternity nurse: What kind of meds and treatment did you have?
Me: blah-blah-blah-wah-wah [fill in the blanks with many previous posts on this blog]
Her: What kind of procedures have they done? Do you like your specialist? Did Clomid make you a little emotional?
Me: HSG, more pelvic ultrasounds than you can shake a stick at, Dr Bo and a big fat HELL YES.
Her: Not to pry but did they diagnose your problem yet? PCOS? Anything?
Me: Yes, they say I don't ovulate. So you nkow, can't get pregnant without the right dosage of meds aka Clomid.
YoungMom: Oh I did that!
Us: Did what?
YM: Got pregnant when I wasn't ovulating!
Me: I'm pretty sure that's scientifically impossible

 

tattoo on the mind

There are two different types of tattoos I want to get before MrD returns. One is a form of six small shooting stars under my left ankle bone as an homage to the deployment. Than I'll keep adding little stars with each deployment. I originally wanted one star per month, so I'll have to start with 5 and get the 6th when he gets home.

The second tattoo is an homage to us. Our favorite all time couple movie is the cult classic Knight's Tale. The phrase that sums it up is "better a silly girl with a flower than a silly boy with a horse and a stick." I'm torn between the meaning and theory and a literal translation. My sisters think stick figures holding a flower and a stick pony would be cute. Part of me just wanted a little brand of a knight on horse with a lance on one shoulder blade with a detailed delicate flower on the other. While looking up different emo girl samples online I found this gorgeous piece:

I actually have plans on Friday to visit the tattoo parlor and setup the 1st of a few tattoo appointments.

Edit: I found similar art for both [finally a lance! hello!]

I really want this logo look on one shoulder blade

With an individual lily tattoo on the other shoulder blade

And similarly unique stars just curved around the outer left ankle bone

I think ... unless they can blow me away with an emo stick figure set. As in blow my clothes straight off

just a little honey

Finally got some of the shots of MrD and I from baby sister's wedding ceremony in April.

They make me smile.

I will miss this punk. Currently he's bombarding me from Norfolk while he waits for the final hop to the Big Dessert.

the chicken has flown the coop

MrD is stranded in Norfolk through Tuesday until his plane ships him to Afghan-land. My kid sis Roo is keeping him company through the weekend since she's stationed on the east coast. We had sibling support on both ends.

I'll answer you all in advance: I'm fine. If by fine I have yet to sleep in my bed since he left (had company), and plan on not focusing that he's NOT HERE and I'm ALONE. After all, his mother is here and she also sleeps alone so it really reminds me that I shouldn't be moping or selfish in my solitude. If you want to be supportive ask me in 30 days and perhaps in a more creative way like: What have you been up too? What do you have planned with MrD gone? When are you getting your tattoo? Or perhaps anything along those lines ... I'm trying my hardest from the getgo to not stumble into a depressive mode and accidentally rubbing my nose with it isn't probably all that helpful. So far my only irritation is lying in the assumption that due to him not being here I should be BORED. Since when do I normally have free time? Even with him here my standard week day schedule is wake up at 6a, work from 7a-4/5p, do chores, eat dinner, workout at 7p-8ish, sleep between 9-10p. Wherein lyes my idle time?

Anyhoo ... the support is still highly appreciated and I should be snapping back into my regular blog reading shortly. For any requesting his mailing address and care package details, I'll get you that as soon as I have it and I'll also be posting nifty support your troops, general care package sites (including Cup-o-Joe!) in the near future as well. They all need support and to be reminded they are not forgotten.

Thanks again
xoxo
Darla

he's off to see the wizard ... no really

MrD heads out Friday morning. Hoorah ... or whatever it is the Air Force says. His return to the states is January. I'm outtie through the weekend. Check ya all on Monday.

P.S. the artist of OZ is Mike, and he rocks.

half way through a short week

Another day and still no deployment date yet other than the vague spread between now and 9 Jul. I am terribly excited about the thought that tomorrow is my Tuesday/Thursday. God bless three day weekends, even if it is overshadowed by that stupid white elephant.

These punks are coming to visit: herald in the sounds of squirelly boys crying, whining, laughing and pummeling the crap out of each other as only siblings can do.

Now if chasing these ragamuffins around parks and through lakes with paddle boats and removing the wii remotes gently from their hands and sticking them repeatedly into the time out corner can't distract me from MrD's impeding exodus to an Afghan-Deployment than what else is there? I suppose their mother - my twin sister and her fun husband will be a good whip topping to that sundae as well.

once upon a time a weekend blew up

Another weekend and another opportunity for family to jack with my tenuous grasp on my sanity. 

Everything was going swimmingly well Friday night. We housesat for a friend across base and savored a moment of sanctuary akin to being in a hotel but with better leather couches and a ginormous tv. MrD munched on multiple slices of freezer pizza with me curled up around him during episode after episode of Band of Brothers until the wee hours of the night.

Saturday morning rolled through like a cold slap in the face. I couldn't have predicted it. MrD couldn't have predicted it. 08:35a. An aunt called. They were two hours away, enroute to our house and  coming with uncle and cousin in tow for a surprise slumber party. How great. Feel the enthusiasm.

You have to understand a few things. We LOVE our families. My inlaws are awesome and infuriating and just as cool as my own. I love our obnoxious aunts, uncles and cousins equally and unbiasly ... sometimes biasly. Yet, of all the weekends in the world, when you finally choose to take an inaugural trip to our base, why OH why THIS WEEKEND?

These weren't even an ignored set of family. We've seen them twice in the last three months and the last time a few weeks ago. Deliberately on our road trip, I might add, so we could enjoy the last few weeks to ourselves. This was our weekend ... OURS ... [pardon me while I stomp my feet for a few moments] ... and than it became theirs.

The unexpected and at times a little fun, but still unexpected, wrapped up about 4p today. Than the expected, a rescheduled bbq from 4p-8p. The end of the Sunday. The entire weekend gone in a blink of an eye, forfeited against our will. It made us both very frustrated and very sad. We just wanted to wrap our arms around it and wallow in it for the last few minutes. Though it is always nice to be smothered by family and friends it doesn't replace lost time.

Thank you in advance and may the worst of this week fly by and our times together crawl as much as possible.

walking the deployment tight rope

They say no news is good news but no news can in fact drive you crazy. We still don't have the exact date MrD is leaving. We know his date in country for orders is Jul 9. That means he could very well deploy any time between Jul 2 and 6, like that isn't a definitive window. Focusing at work is leaving me cross eyed. Which is extremely difficult when I have loads of things to do, including little stupid deployment prep as well as stupid little life crap. All stupid. Ya mom, did you hear that? stupid. stupid. stupid. stupid.

MrD summed up the atmostphere around here fairly well in his 2nd blog post:

Its like a Switch went off in my head they cant give me a day to fly out so I'll jsut turn my brain off fully. You ladys out there know that on most days husbands may be spacy but we do actually care about whats going on in your life even if we dont respond on a regular basis.

Yet with that being said i realy dont care about any thing other then the stupid day that I leave, when ever that may be. On a avarage day I would care about the dishes. I might even care about the laundry that is not done.

Amazingly enough we're bickering far less than I would have imagined and probably a little more than I would have liked. I am trying to ignore every laundry pile and clutter hole that would normally be cleaned with every ounce of my being. I just keep telling myself that it will all be there after Jul 9 and is it really worth any sort of argument to kill the slight joys from every last little minute we get to hang out together before he leaves. Cherish now. Bitch later.

This weekend involves a slumber party tonight at Shandipants (I'm house sitting) with MrD, sing-star-booze party Saturday at Mel&Jer's and Sunday afternoon date matinee with Mom and MrD at TRANSFORMERS.

i mean if i had a day that i was leaving all this apprahenshion would be gone, or most of it any way. Knowing your leaving and knowing what day and time are two totally diferent things. Someday soon hopefully I'll get the the day and things might smooth out here on the home front.

Alfalfa strikes again!

It was a bright and sunny Tuesday

Not a few hours ago

When I noticed your blogging page

With errors to and fro

Because I love you dearly

I fixed it right away

My Darla is the bestest

Today is Alfalfa's Day!

moody and peculiar

It’s been a long week. It was a long week? My grammar isn’t anywhere near where it should be and nowhere where it’s going to be or where it needs to be. The big bosses were in town from Wed – Fri and if I wasn’t busy preparing for their visit (Mon – Wed) I was with them in trainings or other duties. Sometimes we need longer weekends. I’ve always been a big advocate of working four 10s (10 hr shifts) but haven’t yet been lucky enough to work an office where that was the standard schedule. Now I work a place that says anything over 8 hrs in a day is OT – go figure. Wow, my punc.tu.ation is almost as bad as my grammar.

So the bosses visited. It’s amazing the self realizations that can result from a visit like that. Even though they were only in town for mandatory management training, they still squeezed in a few minutes around group lunches and dinners to poke at a few sedentary issues. Happily sedated objects I might add. Because well enough can’t be left alone, they pulled them out of the closet kicking and screaming like the redheaded stepchild. [sigh]. It made for very long days and much frayed nerves and many a thought about my happiness over my chosen profession or my satisfaction that I may or may not have for corporate America. I really want to blame all those thoughts on an overly late menstrual cycle (pregnancy test: not pregnant) and overly shot nerves (deployment countdown: 9-11 days). So let’s just go with that. I’m afraid if I start ranting the other it may drone on like Charlie Brown’s mother.

Reality is a bitch. Yesterday while MrD and I were snarfing some taco bell and preparing for a mad dash through Wal-Mart and the grocery store, he noticed my slightly abnormal silent behavior. Though I don’t feel the need to idly chatter through every quiet minute, I do possess the tendency to prattle on a bit when availability lends itself. (Surprise, I know.) Thus silence doesn’t always translate itself to normal. He asked what was wrong. I shrugged it off. He asked again at the grocery store where I relented a little and confessed that I generally try to ignore the white elephant in the room (we shall call him D.Ployment) but Sunday was one of those days when it was either sitting smack dab in the middle of my lap or completely blocking my view. Dork. Stupid boys. Stupid deployments. Stupid profession. I don’t want to change any of it, with the exception of the elephant, but some days my intelligence shuts my rationale side down completely and I’m left thinking I HATE THAT HE’S LEAVING ME. Yes I know we’ll be fine and yes I know we’ll survive and yes I know we’re strong and mature and healthy and blah, blah, blah, blah … that doesn’t change the mini me lying on the bottom of a pool screaming violently.

What to do about it? It’s about moving forward. Pulling myself up by the short pants and getting back to completing college financials and gym time and healthier eating around work. Trying to remember the end goal. Focusing beyond the immediate.

Today, for instance, the elephant is silently playing with blocks in the corner pointedly ignoring me. Who knows what tomorrow will bring.