Tuesday, February 26, 2013

Baby Mama Money

This might just be a random post. Maybe a post about nothing. Maybe a post about diaper rash. Sometimes I think I write just to have adult interaction. Although, this isn't a back and forth conversation, a banter of some sorts, but it is a step away from the animal sounds, and "NO, that's CA-CA" I find myself saying more often then a somewhat normal person should.

First and foremost, we made it safe and sound back to North Carolina. Secondly, I am not about to take credit for something I did not do. I did NOT drive the 10 hours back home. I owe all that to my Dad. However, I did stay awake for the entire trip. Olivia did great. She slept the whole time, only waking each time we got gas, then quickly falling back asleep. However, when we did arrive at 5 am she was all jazzed up and ready to play. And DANG is it cold here! I forgot that part. After a quick stint of running around like a maniac, playing with her toys, and ripping things from the shelves, she was down for a nap. I, on the other hand, had to be at a job interview in 3 hours. Did I forget to mention that part?

One of the most difficult things I faced during this deployment was letting go of my financial independence. I have worked from the day I was able to say, "Cream and Sugar?"  I loved working. I STILL love working. I love the paycheck, the feeling of accomplishment, and having something to call my own. We made the decision before BW left that I wouldn't work, and with that came a lot of sacrifice. I remember crying on the phone to BW asking, "who is going to pay my cell phone bill?" It just didn't seem right. Why should he have to pay for my Starbucks addiction? Why should he have to fill my gas tank? And he wondered, why SHOULDN'T he? This was his job, and something he took great pride in; being able to support his family. This is something I'm still not comfortable with and laugh every time I see money in my account labeled "Baby Mama Money, go buy something nice"....and then I go buy diapers, wipes, and baby clothes. Doesn't he know how a Mama's mind works?

From the moment BW deployed I set goals for myself. All sorts of goals; physical, mental, spiritual and just plain goals. I wanted to accomplish certain things by the time he came home. I was determined to get a job, put Miss O in daycare and settle in to a routine. I feared BW coming home to a house full of messy toys, a disheveled mess of a wife, and a baby who hadn't gained any sense of routine or structure. As humans, we all seek structure and routine and thrive in environments that provide us with that. I wanted BW to come home to a well kept house, a hard working wife, and a baby that played well with others. This was something I NEEDED to accomplish; and if not, I failed. I had 10 + months to get this together. If there is something my soldier deserves, its to come home, kick his feet up and just sit.

After being awake for nearly 48 hours, I dusted off my 'interview clothes' (this is a lie, they were brand new. HE TOLD ME TO BUY SOMETHING NICE!), and headed out the door. This was one of the most challenging interviews I had ever been on. Either that or my mind just wasn't right and I couldn't formulate responses. Articulation is a skill, and I do believe its something you can lose if not used often (ie animal noises, and baby talk). I sat in this interview for over an hour answering an array of questions. I'm never one to take these things too seriously. I laugh. I joke. I'm sarcastic. It's the way of my world. I like to think of an interview as a friendly conversation between two people, and one person holds the fate of the other in their hands, and has the potential to make or break their day. NO PRESSURE.  Side note- before the interviewer came into the room I was stuck in my jacket. STUCK IN MY JACKET. I thought about just going through the interview wearing a huge puffer jacket. Then decided my shirt was too expensive not to show off, so it would be best if I stepped out of my jacket. I probably would have nailed the interview if he walked in mid-step out, because lord knows that's a skill we all need to succeed. Long story short, the interview ended with a job offer...and mama walked out the door with a smile on her face, jump in her step, and a knot in my stomach...oh, daycare. Crap.

I will not go in to any sort of a rant about why I'm not cut out for this stay at home mom gig. Sometimes my reasons seem offensive, or come out the wrong way, or just make me sound like some baby hating, devil of a woman.  Don't get me wrong, the LAST thing I want to do is take Miss O out of her home for 10 hours a day and stick her in some germ invested room where some brat is going to rip her hair bow out. I don't want that. What I do want is my sanity back and a reason to put pants on that aren't 100% cotton. Again, the stay at home mom thing is not something I will talk about... but for real, super BIG high fives for the women that do it...and super BIG bottles of wine for the women that LOVE doing it. See, there are two different kinds of womens.

The first week being in our home has been hard. There is no denying that. I cried. I cried a lot. In my defense, the second day I was here I got a terrible case of food poisoning and Miss O was left to take care of herself. This is when I praise the Disney Junior Gods.  We are finally getting in to the swing of things, and we look forward to the changes ahead. We both will have to do lots of adjusting, we will have good days, we will have bad days. Each day that passes is one day closer to our soldier's homecoming. I am so proud of him, but he doesn't hesitate to tell me 100 times a day how proud I make him.

For months I had been eying a particular dress for Miss O, a dress she would wear for his homecoming. A dress I couldn't fathom spending HIS hard earned money to buy her that she will wear once. Not to mention its ridiculously priced, and ridiculously obnoxious. Only something a girl would understand.

...now Mama gets to buy her that dress.

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