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Friday, October 21, 2011

Sister Wives

I decided about a couple of seconds ago that if I have a title for a blog post then I'm going to go ahead and use it, and save the day numbering for when I can't think of one. 

Aren't you glad I'm keeping you informed of the minutia that goes through my brain on a moment to moment basis?

Today we will be discussing Sister Wives.
Not the TV show, because I've never seen it.
Not because I'm not interesting in seeing it, but because I basically rely on my husband to help me do things like search for and record shows on the DVR.
And when he's not here to remind me, those things fall to the wayside.

Other things that fall to the wayside: replacing blown light bulbs, shaving my legs, and having sexual relations.


Now that I think of it, I suppose I could do something about 2 of those issues.

Moving on.

Today after Bible study a couple of the gals were planning to run over to Sam's club to grab a few items and to dine in their uber-classy cafeteria. So the kids and I joined them. As we were walking in, my friend commented that we really looked like sister wives with our crazy brood.

3- 30-somethings
1- 6 year old
1- 5 year old
2- 4 year olds
1- 3 year old
1- 2 year old
2- 5 month olds

It was a hot mess. All of the tables were full until we arrived and suddenly folks just started to clear out. Wonder why?

I wanted to stand on a table and say "I'm sorry we are about to make your dining experience unpleasant. This is what happens when you eat lunch at a warehouse store. Stop feeling sorry for yourselves, and feel sorry for us. Our husbands are in Afghanistan and this is our idea of a good time."

We hadn't even gotten the kids settled at a table yet when Derek had an urgent need for a potty break. Then one of the twins had a leaky poopy diaper. Then she threw up all over her mom. There was pushing on the bench seat, admonitions against potty talk, tears over a dropped hotdog, and big sisters getting hit in the head with little brother's cup.
All of this was followed by the processional out to the parking lot.

Me pushing a cart with a three year old and bulk quantities of diapers and formula. One mom pushing a double stroller with two infants, one mom holding on to a two year old, and three "big" kids hanging from the cart.

Total success.

There really is something special about the bond you forge as a military wife, especially in a fighter squadron. Because our guys all deploy together, we rely on each other for just about everything.

Including cleaning out each other's closets.

So my friend Katie, who will be moving in about a month to California (boo!) and who just had a new baby (yea!), heard me say that I planned to clean out my closet while Josh was gone.

Now.
Some of you know this about me, and others, like Katie, just choose to believe the best about me against all reason.
I am a procrasterbator.

I mean, procrastinator.

Yes, my closet did need to be cleaned out. Yes, there might possibly have been an item or two with shoulder-pads in there. Yes, I've had clothes in there that I haven't worn in over 5 years.
But when I said that I was going to clean out my closet while Josh was gone, I meant that I was going to talk about cleaning out my closet for about 4 months. Then I was slowly going to motivate myself to do it during the 5th month. Finally, about 3 days before he returned home, I was going to spend about 15 minutes in my closet, purge an item or two, and pat myself on the back for a job well done.

But.
Apparantly closet-cleaning is near and dear to Katie's heart. She quite literally begged me to let her help. She set the day and time, and I knew it was inevitable.

Ladies and gentlemen. She is serious about her closet cleaning.
If I so much as paused to ponder whether I would actually wear an item of clothing, it was an immediate no from her and she snatched it from my precious little hands.

Goodness, would you look at that pile?



Guess who has a lot more room in her closet these days?

Love me some sister wives.


Disclaimer: No husband sharing ever has, or ever will occur.
Keep your hands off, ladies.
He's all mine.



Disclaimer's Disclaimer-- I promised Josh that if I used that photo, I would tell you that it was an attempt at being ironical and that he does not, indeed, actually think he looks cool in the oversized sunglasses, a shaved head, and a pedophile mustache.

How's that, honey?

11 comments:

Taylor said...

That is a fantastic mustache.

Anonymous said...

I laugh out loud everytime I see the pedophile stach!!! Your comment to Derek as he's running to the bathroom in your last post is hilarious too!
Thanks,
Karen G

Proverbs 31 Wannabe said...

Can you send your friend down here to help with my closet? I desperately need some motivation!

Katie said...

You love me. And now you have a clean closet with lots of great stuff you know you can (and should) wear! I am also glad I decided that a lunch and Sams might be a little much for me. I think I chose wisely!

Brenda said...

A hot mess. :)

I can do something about two of those. I hope you pick the right two.

Yay for a clean closet.

The pedophile stash....why? :)

Maranda said...

So why exactly does he grow the "pedo stach"?

... just because he can?

Erin said...

The joys of having sister wives. Or you could go it alone like us other privileged AF wives.

Anonymous said...

It's not a "pedo stache" - it's a bulletproofing mustache. The idea behind the Mustache dates back to the early beginnings of military aviation during World War I, it continued throughout World War II, and on to the Combat 'Stache of the Vietnam conflict. Pilots would grow a "Bulletproof" mustache, not only for the luck that it provided, but also as a good natured protest against military regulations which strictly regulate facial hair- it serves to highlight the need for mission focus during a conflict. At a time when aircrew were being lost on almost a daily basis it was imperative to focus on the accomplishment of the mission, rather than being waylayed into spending time enforcing minor regulations that have little to do with winning the war. Also known as "queep".

No discussion of the Combat Mustache would be complete without acknowledging the most famous "Bulletproof" facial hair of all - worn by the Vietnam-era Commander of the 8th Tactical Fighter Wing, "The Wolfpack", Brigadier General Robin Olds.

Sandy said...

i thought that perhaps josh was trying to do that whole hiding his identity thing...

Christina said...

He can pull off a mustache a lot better than I can.
I know a little about zealous friends intent on helping you clean. ;) It's a good thing in the end.
Your commentary on the trip to Sam's was awesome. I laughed out loud (for real, not just LOL). When I am in Florida often Mike is not there, so I end up going out with Wendy and Bobby (sister-in-law and her husband) and our six (combined) kids. I always laugh and say people either think Bobby is really lucky or feel really sorry for him. :)

Joyce said...

That picture has inspired me to get my letter written : )