So, we were told that Man would get his orders this week. Surprise, surprise, unless they give them to him this afternoon, we'll have to wait for a different week.
Our bank, USAA, has a great program where they put you in touch with a vetted real estate agent. So far we've had the chance to browse through a dozen or so homes and dream. The first picture I look at is always the kitchen. We have a page-long list of wants in a home (no stupid-type closet doors, like the sliders), a slightly shorter list of needs (two living spaces for him and her) and a budget we won't be able to nail down until Man finds a job.
Speaking of which, he gets his resume back from a resume guy today, and then the hunt begins in earnest. I'm withering inside from stress from it taking so long to even get the job hunt started. The withered part of me thinks it would feel better for some chocolate, but the only virtue added to any part of me from consumption of the same is my behind. Lunch today is a healthy mac and cheese with bbq sauce on top. Yum. Don't hate.
Tag has started basketball at long last. He's had two practices and there's a game on Saturday. I'm taking my camera to that. He is LOVING every minute of it. He even shrugs happily when he doesn't make a basket. His focus on the ball when he dribbles is a bit exclusive, so it'll take a while to get his senses opened up and his muscles well trained, but as long as he's loving it and working hard I'm sure he'll do well. I do know that wherever we go, we must find him a team.
He's finally doing better academically after a trial run on Concerta. I've noticed a huge change in him for the better since he started. His rage is more easily managed but his creativity is undiminished. It's the best of all worlds as far as I'm concerned. His appetite is somewhat depressed but having pizza a little more often keeps his weight where it ought to be (in a steady incline). Best of all, he says he loves school and his teacher and his homework gets done without a huge hassle. I used to have to sit down with him and ask that no sounds of technology or siblings reach him for a 45 minute wrestle over three pages of homework. Needless to say, the overall improvement has been a huge relief for everyone living here and his teacher.
Princess is the very picture of a preteen, despite her 9th birthday coming up. Unfortunately, I'm not taking this as well as I should. Combine sass with her intelligence and extremely literal perception of most things and you get a tussle between mother and daughter that shouldn't have started until a few years later. I find myself chewing the inside of my mouth every time I snap back at her and I know that my reactions aren't helping the situation. Sigh. So I'm trying to find ways to spend proactive positive time with her.
Freida is growing into quite the independent young lady. Her personality is a force of nature and her gleeful verbal expulsions must be acknowledged upon pain of hearing them repeated ad nauseum. She just can't understand how anyone couldn't or wouldn't hear anything she has to say and find it terribly clever. Every morning this week she has put her clothes and shoes on with the older kids and informed me that she's "go-een skool." And then she needed at least an hour of lap time to overcome the trauma of having to stay home.
Pebbles has really opened up this year. She is happier and tends to express herself more fully. Along with this development is the advent of temper tantrums which are so theatrical that they are almost comic and had to have been observed. She's drawing more, reading more, forming some definite opinions, and insisting that her tastes be respected.
Me? Tired, depressed, stressed. I struggle between the need for action but an almost total helplessness while I wait for either the Army or Man to take care of business. I get into a job search of my own only to have Man insist that he's got it covered, or I look at schools only to realize that I don't know what financial aide, including the GI bill, I might have available to me. Fortunately, there's a program for which I've applied called Military to Medicine that was made specifically for people in my situation who would like to get into the medical field. It's a certificate program that I can do online for free through a teaching hospital in Virginia. One of the demographics it serves is spouses of wounded warriors who are transitioning out of the military. I don't know if it could get more specific unless they started bringing in religion and height requirements. So I've got some hope there.
Man is still marching on. Pain is the same for the most part, depression is the same, but I can tell he's making a big effort to be here mentally for the family. He's spending more time talking to the kids and me, reaching out for more hugs, and he seems less angry. But he still flinches when people talk about hiking or skiing, some of his favorite ways to exercise. Living life with a disability is a daunting idea and he's still grieving over that and the constant pain.
So we're getting by. Sometimes just barely, but somehow the kids get dressed in the morning and go to school, somehow I get dinner on the table, and we all even bathe occasionally.
As Kay R used to say to me almost every Sunday, "don't forget that the scriptures say that it came to pass, not it came to stay."
Posts
