Dropping kids off

I dropped the kids off today. Of course. (Napoleon Dynamite moment: Duh! What d'you think?)

Anyway, Pebbles picked up a little chant from the movie Alvin and the Chipmunks from when Alvin does his little sexy dance ("bow chicka wow wow") and turned it into "ah chickee dah dah" and a little booty dance of her own. She does it to tease the older kids who yell "ew!!" and run away to complain about her indecency.

This morning she was absently chanting it in the van, likely trying to mentally escape how miserably cold it was this morning (it's only 35° -- they ain't seen nothing yet) and of course take a parting shot at her uber-sensitive sibs. We finally decided to correct her though. It was so strange to hear her little voice say "chicka wow wow?" and I confirmed a few times with the kids that it was from the Chipmunk movie and no other source. -sigh- Some day they'll have to know what this iconic reference means.

Tag and Princess each gave me a kiss (something I never discourage and hope it lasts a while longer) and then Tag called out "I love you! I hope y'all have a good day!"

Y'all? Y'all?? Oh, dear. We can't move soon enough.

Man's surgery is this Wednesday. We're not sure what time yet as they will be calling us tomorrow with the nitty-gritty, like whether I'm supposed to stay at the hospital and wait or if I can go do business and usual until they give me a call. But this is it folks. This is the one and only surgery he'll be getting, this is his last orthopedic surgeon, his last chance to have a real difference made for his shoulder. The results of this procedure will influence so many things for us, both in his career as well as almost every aspect of home life. The pain is really wearing on him and the rest of us as well. We've been hearing some really great things about his surgeon from people at church who are also part of the medical community.

So, any prayers you have, any good thoughts or good vibes, think about Man on Wednesday. He has had a blessing and we know that God will somehow provide a way for us to take care of ourselves, but we'd really rather do it without Man hurting.

If things go well: we stay in the military, Man completes his training, completes his contract, and then we decide whether to reenlist or get out and try our hand at the real world again, but with a very marketable skill.

If things go poorly: he gets med-boarded out of the military before his training is complete, and he ends up jobless and 80% disabled, not to mention that "pain for the rest of your life" part. I would go get my nursing degree (nurse practitioner if I have the stamina and funding) and become the bread winner, but with a house-husband too injured to even carry a laundry basket.

Of course, even if things go well I'd want to get my degree. I'm already looking into schools at our next station.

Wow, that got long.