Deployment Rules 1, 2 and 3

Any military spouse can tell you the number one rule of deployments is, as soon as they leave, things will inevitably fall to smelly, smashed up pieces. In the last 72 hours 2.0 has started MAD teething {{which makes her want to be held ALL day and not want to nap}}, Bug has learned to open the fridge {{yay for raw eggs being found all over the kitchen}}, the laptop cable for our computer died {{thank goodness for my old phone book Dell laptop cable fitting}}, our TV is probably dying {{the picture keeps shrinking and I cant fix it}} and I'm pretty sure I found mouse poop this morning {{EFFING AWESOME!!}}. Oh and for some reason, no matter how hard I try, I can't grow a third arm so I always have a free hand to carry my phone.

J left on Tuesday. When J's schedule changed, my BFF changed hers so she could be here with me and I'm not quite sure how I would reacted if she wasn't there. She was able to keep me distracted enough that we were all making jokes and laughing right up until they called the 5-minute warning for the end of family time. We hugged and kissed and hugged again and then he chased us off to prevent a long drawn out "see you later". Bug was upset that we were leaving him, but I think my ability to keep myself together, kept her from freaking out and once in the car I was immediately relieved for that part to finally be over with.

So, he's gone. And inevitably, as is how it goes, it is time for everything to explode, die, overflow, get lost or ruined, and or fall apart. The really sad part about all of this is that, as far as I'm concerned, not growing a third arm is my biggest problem right now. The second rule of deployments is that you will become tethered to your cellular device as you {{and those around you}} never thought possible. Being married to your phone is one of those little ticks you get after they leave. You wait for days to hear from them, compulsively checking your email, Facebook, Twitter {{well, I would if I had one}}, MySpace {{hey, it could happen}}. Take a shower, check your phone. Pick up a crying baby, check your phone. Tie your shoes, check your phone. Hear a beep, chime, or church bells; Check your phone. It's an illness. Then you panic when you try to check your phone and you can't find it. I've had three almost-meltdowns because I couldn't find my phone when I've been sitting on it. This is where that third arm would really come in handy. I'd never have to put it down.

Of course, not putting down your phone doesn't stop other retarded things from happening. J sent me a message yesterday saying he would call soon and then in the four hours after that message, I got five phone calls from telemarketers. Deployment Rule #3: As soon as they might call, every sales group in the western hemisphere will call from numbers that *might* be your spouse. There is always this awkward moment of serious let down after you answer expecting your spouses voice and a woman asks if you've ever considered AT&T, Blue Cross/Blue Shield, ADT or voting for Mit Romney. Seriously, These things happen to me.

If I didn't find it all almost funny, I'd probably be a mess right now {{or be day drunk constantly}}. For the most part I know how lucky we are: the girls and I are safe, J is safe and my mom will be here soon for a visit. Even at my loneliest, I have found that I'm not truly alone, it just feels that way. And there is always wine {{sweet, sweet, feeling killing wine}}.

J will be home before we know it and in the mean time I can work on that third arm.