I'm pretty sure this baby is surviving on almost nothing but grapes and Cheetos, two things that would have Lydia in the throes of despair. Clearly it's trying to learn from previous uterine tenant mistakes.
Someone asked me today how I feel about living back in military housing after the move. My only answer was that I would love it.
Some people really hate living in those kinds of places and relish the civilian world. Me? I like when I bitch to my neighbor, they fully understand. Its not just sympathy they have, its empathy, experience. And enough experience to listen to my whine before changing the subject and pointing me toward the closest shiny object. Its their subtle way of saying, "Oh, that really does suck, I know. But put on your big girl panties, Butter Cup, because ya can't change the military and life is moving on with or without 'cha."
From the civilian world you get plenty of sympathy. Most people don't understand how I can be okay with my husband being under the water, with little to no contact for 6-9 months out of the year. For the submarine world--- it's an average Tuesday. Sometimes, I just really need someone to kick me in my ass to get me moving again.
When you want to be coddled, seek a civilian. When you want to be pushed forward, seek a military spouse.
Have I mentioned how I have some of the best friends in the entire wide world? It's true!
I have several who replied back to my request for sewing help and I'm 2/3rds done with my projects and they're going very well, thanks to their help.
I also have another one who, after listening to me fret over my lack of knowing where to find Lydia-safe food, said she knows several farmer's markets to go to and is happy to show me. Honestly, ya'll. This is the ONE thing that scares me about moving to the Toxic Crap Hole, we won't be smack in the middle of the local, organic deliciousness Lydia needs to eat.
There's also the friend today who kept an eye on Kyra during art class while I ran Lydia to her activity. (She's also the same one who fixed Kyra's hair.) And another friend who asked us to stop by and pick up 4 bags of hand-me-downs for the girls... then let us invade her house and allowed the girls to molest her new chicks.
My friends? They're priceless.
Even the civilian ones. :)
I've decided that with Kyra's new hair cut, and the loss of her second front tooth in her sandwich today (she now has no front teeth!), she honest-to-goodness LOOKS like your typical awkward, wonky 6 year old. Before I used to stare at her and see exactly what kind of 16 year old she's going to be-- Jail Bait! It's hard to see tiny, future jail bait in a child with no front teeth and bangs that screams GUESS WHO CUT HER OWN HAIR?!
Now, maybe, the rest of the world will stop telling us to buy a gun for all her future dates.