Oh, boy.

As it turns out, nothing is as fluid as a military training schedule. The days the guys will leave, how long they'll stay, what they'll do and when they'll return is always in flux. I don't like it but I've sort of learned to go with it. I've learned to basically mark my husband as unavailable for the three month period around any 4-6 week training exercise.

But somehow, even after so many goddamn years in the military, my husband isn't quite so smart.

He invited his parents to come visit this spring. And he did so close enough to the training exercise that he will now not be here for even a single day while they are here. He keeps saying that the schedule could change again but he's kidding himself now. Sure, it's possible but he's jinxed himself now. He's afraid to tell his mother that there's no chance in hell that he'll be here. One, because she's kind of scary. Two, because he's a chickenshit.

But I did tell them. Well, I mentioned the likelihood to CPT Dick's Dad, anyway. Needless to say, they are not thrilled. First, they haven't seen CPT Dick in several years. Second, they -- and by they, I mean his mother -- does not like me. I've got their grandson, which at least gives me some type of bargaining tool. But I'm preparing for a thoroughly unpleasant visit.

A week with the in-laws. A week of discussions of how I am not raising their grandson correctly. A week of thinly veiled insults about my weight. A week of my mother-in-law taking any comment that I say -- like, can you please pass the salt? -- as a personal affront. A week of being quietly reminded that their son could have done much better than me. A week of completely inane comments about the war and how I should convince CPT Dick to resign his commission.

Oh, golly gee, I cannot wait!