Dear White House Spokesperson:

When you release a statement that there will be troop cuts in Iraq, can you do me a favor? Please clearly emphasize that it does not include my husband's unit or any of the others on that last round of 15 month deployments. As soon as the words "troop cuts" float along the bottom of the CNN screen, my phone starts ringing. And after the fourth time in five months that there has been some kind of story about troop cuts, it's really hard to keep breaking spouse's hearts by having to say, "Nope, sorry, doesn't apply to us."

And if I could make a suggestion, what would be really great is if you could maybe butter the soldiers and families up about being one of the last units to endure a 15 month stay in the desert. You know, thank them for taking one for the team, as it were. 'Cause right now, I could use that kind of love myself.

Ooops, gotta go! There goes that phone again. Thanks for listening.

Smooches,
Me

Suddenly, I don't feel so bad about the state of my house.

Last night, I got a phone call in the wee hours of the morning. The MPs had been called on one of our FRG's families. Not for a loud party, illegally parked car or a fight. Nope. Because of the smell.

This spouse, I'll call her Mrs. X for brevity's sake, had not cleaned her house since the soldiers deployed. She has two kids, both in diapers. She has not done laundry, taken out the trash or disposed of a single dirty diaper in nearly four months. She has not cooked either, opting to bring home take-out and leave the leftovers out on the furniture and floors to breed maggots and attract vermin. And she and her children somehow have lived in this mess for all that time.

When I arrived this morning, after the children had been removed from the premises, Mrs. X and a group of volunteers had been cleaning for nearly 10 hours. But I still found myself knee deep in garbage. The walls were covered with brown stains of unknown origin. The entire refrigerator door was writhing in maggots. There was a dead rat in the bathroom cupboard. By the time I left, more than 40 industrial-sized garbage bags had been filled and carried to the dumpster.

I have no idea how someone, let alone someone with young kids, managed to let things go like this. When I asked Mrs. X, she said that she just didn't realize so much time had passed. That it didn't seem that bad from the inside.

The worst part about all of this is that Mrs. X did not seem like that kind of person we'd have to worry about. She comes to meetings. She comes to events. She has a group of several friends that she sees regularly. She calls when she needs information about the Nurse's hotline or where to get a new ration card.

It makes me wonder who else I should be worrying about. And that pile of clutter on my dining room table? Is that the start of something more sinister?

In a funk.

Woke up in a funk today. I'm still mulling whether I should keep on as FRG leader or just get the hell out of dodge. And for whatever reason, the question has me reconsidering everything about this deployment -- whether I should have stayed in Europe, what more I should be doing for Munchkin, what more I should be doing for me.

It's not a fun internal conversation. Maybe it will get more so once I add in the tequila.

I just don't know what to say.

Before CPT Dick deployed, I felt like I was really slacking on the blogging. But hey, what better excuse could I have had? I wanted to spend as much of my free time with him and Munchkin before his departure.

Now I don't have that excuse and yet there's still so much space between entries. I don't know what to say really. I just feel really uninspired. What is there to say that hasn't been said before about these Groundhog Days of deployment?

For me, the best way to get through a deployment is to keep my head down, stick to the routine, stay busy and push on through. And doing that, there's not a lot that is new and different to talk about. I mean, I could talk up how cute my kid is, or how hard it can be late at night to sleep or how I've just decided not to watch CNN anymore, but there seems to be a lack of point to it all. I see no bigger picture to analyze and discuss except that he's gone and I'm doing what I can to deal with it. For both myself and my kid.

Maybe I just need to try a bit harder.

To the creators of the Elmo deployment video...

Would it be too much to say both "thank you" and "fuck you" at the same time?

(I don't mean to seem so ungrateful but, goddamn, by the thirtieth viewing of the day, I start to hate that little red monster with a fierce passion).

Mistakes I will never make again.

Mistake #1: Not having a shitload of wine in the house before making the call-out to inform our spouses that we lost two of our community's soldiers.

Mistake #2: Deciding to watch a movie since I couldn't sleep afterwards. And throwing in my newest Netflix. Which just happened to be "Grace is Gone."

On waiting by the phone.

In the past few weeks, I've missed quite a few phone calls from my husband. It's the combination of a few things -- 1, much as I love my husband, I ain't sitting around all day and waiting by the phone for someone whose job only allows the most random of occasions to call and 2, the stupid git will never call my cel phone.

Before CPT Dick left, I made him a laminated phone number card. Yes, you read that right. A *laminated* card that had every phone number on it that he could ever possibly wish to call. Our home number. My European cel number. My stateside cel number. His parents number. His sibings' respective numbers. My sibling's number. Everyone's, really. Hell, as a funny, I even put Graceland's phone number on there. After all, you never know when you may need to commune with Elvis.

Even with that card tucked neatly in his wallet, he only ever calls the home number. I could not begin to explain why. But I have a feeling it has something to do that part of his brain which makes him throw all dirty clothes on the floor an average of 8.6 inches away from the hamper.

But I just learned I can forward my home phone to my cel phone. I know some of you, more experienced in the whole deployment-inspired art form of waiting by the phone without ever literally waiting by the phone, may be like, "duh!" But it just hadn't occurred to me.

So yesterday, I forwarded all calls to my cel phone. But then we went to the pool with friends. And you know, I now know from experience that it is impossible to chase a toddler around a large body of water and keep an ear out for the phone. Yes, I missed another call.

Oh well. I guess there will be plenty of time to talk when he gets back next year. Or maybe, if I miss enough calls, he'll pull that stupid card out of his wallet for a change.

*Sigh*

"It can't be done."

It's amazing how often the big, green machine responds to families with this particular phrase. Even after they promised that it, indeed, could be.

Update on the Stage 5 clinger.

So I talked about S., my stage 5 clinger. Here's the update.

I tried to do the right thing. I explained that I could not help her. I put her in touch with her POC. I gave her the numbers for the military family life consultants and the chaplain. But the calls continued.

I finally lost my cool with her -- which was wrong, I admit -- but it did stop the calls. At least it has for the past week. Unfortunately, it has not stopped the drama as, in my absence, she's started calling everyone else.

It's going to be a long deployment. *sigh*

One month down.

A little over one month actually since CPT Dick deployed. But 14 to go.

And I have to say, the first month flew by fairly quickly. You must understand, things leading up to the deployment were absolutely crazy. We had so many events and ceremonies and briefings and other random mandatory fun events. I needed a rest. And I tend to spend the first few weeks after CPT Dick leaves for anything cleaning the house and getting it back into order. So that kills a good two weeks right there. And the boy has had all kinds of activities and play dates, so that helped, too. And many of my editors have taken pity on me and showered me with work. Also a good way to make the nights pass faster.

But now, we're coming to a lull. It's as if I'm finally realizing that he's gone and he won't be back for a while. And you know, it's those moments that it hits me, that I'm not going 110 mph, that are the hardest to bear.

Oh God, I'm selfish.

I have a good friend over here in Germany. She's been stationed around the same places as us since the states. Her husband has decided to switch MOS' and they've been waiting, for what seems like forever, for their new orders so he can go to school back CONUS.

They found out last week that they have a report date of May 15. May 15?! I mean, I knew they'd get these orders eventually but I thought it would be end of summer, early fall at the earliest. The Army, against all odds, has moved faster than the speed of light on this one.

She's so happy about this. She's ready to go back and ready for her husband to try something new. And I mean, deep down I'm sure I'm thrilled that her family is getting what they want and that the Army is treating them right. But I don't want her to go. Not only am I going to lose my friend, but I am also going to lose her teenage daughter, who is Munchkin's favorite babysitter.

I think most of us face deployments with as much of a happy face as we can. We think, it won't be so bad because I can pay off the car, I will finish my dissertation, I can get my kid potty-trained, I have my Mom nearby, I have a reliable babysitter who my kid loves, and I get by with a little help from my friends. You know the drill. So to know that two things I was counting on to help me through -- which is stupid, since they are also military -- are gone is a blow.

I feel so frickin' selfish right now. I'm trying to be really happy for her but all I hear is this nebby little voice in my ear saying, "Do you know how much harder this deployment is going to be without your friend or your babysitter? DO YOU?!"

I promised myself I wouldn't cry when he left.

The last time CPT Dick deployed, we were freshly married. There was no big deployment ceremony, no to-dos or Navy style goodbyes. He was going to join a unit that had already deployed. So I just drove him to the airport.

We had decided the night before that I would just drop him off curbside. It was less than a year after 9/11 and the airports were still crazy. And we thought it would be easier. We'd say our goodbyes at home (complete with some hot monkey sex) and then I'd just let him out at the terminal. No prolonged affair. No mess. I wouldn't even turn off the ignition or undo my seatbelt.

I remember that as he walked away from the car, my heart seized up a bit. I stayed parked illegally until I could no longer see his huge green rucksack walking away from me and then started for home. I only made it half a mile before the enormity of what had just happened descended upon me and I had to pull over for a good cry.

This time, there was all kinds of hurray and hoopla. And you know, it was so drawn out, starting so many weeks before CPT Dick actually had to go, it didn't feel real. I just felt annoying. And so when the time came for him to actually go, we once again stuck to a plan. After all, this time, we had a three-year-old to consider. I figured after all the pomp and circumstance, there's no way I'd be hit as hard. So, the plan was that we'd say our goodbyes at home and then I would drop him off at formation when it was time.

But this time, the tears started as soon as we drove on post. I wasn't sobbing or hysterical but my body was definitely telling me that it knew damn well what lay ahead.

Godspeed, CPT Dick.

He knows something's up.

We are trying to get Munchkin ready for the deployment.

We've bought our Daddy doll. We've put photos of CPT Dick everywhere we possibly can. We've been doing a lot of videotaping of CPT Dick reading perennial favorites like "Red Fish, Blue Fish" and "Whopper Cake."

And we've started telling him that Daddy is going away. We've read the advice in books (translation: I have and told my husband what to say) and we've been mentioning it casually over the past few months. A bit more now that D-day is coming right up on us.

It's hard enough with a small child to know how much they really understand. And when your child is speech-delayed, it's even more difficult. Most of the time, when we spoke about Daddy going away, he'd either say, "Bye bye!" as if CPT Dick was leaving that moment for a run to the store or something or just make a request to watch the movie "Cars."

But this week, I think we crossed a line. We were wrapping a present for a birthday party and I started to talk about how Daddy wouldn't be back until after his next birthday. Munchkin looked up at me, somewhat alarmed, and said, "No. No bye-bye. Daddy stay. No bye-bye. Daddy stay here."

And since then, though he still goes to bed on his own, at about 1am he sneaks into our room. And usually, when he has a bad dream, he comes over to my side of the bed to be put back down. But these days, he walks over to the other side and crawls into his father's arms.

I think he is just trying to make sure his Daddy is still there. It is both sweet and heartbreaking all at once. And I must admit, I do worry about the night, the night that will come all too soon, when he finds that his Daddy is no longer there.

The countdown begins.

Harassed my husband until he gave in and let me get a full body photo? Check.
Ordered Daddy Doll? Check.
Put up homemade 15 month calendar? Check.
Given CPT Dick a dog tag with Munchkin's picture? Check.
TA 50 starting to show up in random parts of the house? Check.
Crazy spouse phone calls increasing exponentially? Check.
Starting to cry when random songs play on the radio? Check.

Oh yeah. He's leaving soon.