After breakfast I decided that Bug and I were going to walk to Caribou to get some coffee. Originally I thought we were going for a run, and then decided that I probably didn't have enough time to do that and get us ready to meet Matt by 10.
The second that we stepped outside I was glad that I opted against the run -- it is incredibly humid here. For some reason I find the humidity more unbearable in the morning when it's theoretically cooler outside.
I had placed a muslin blanket on Bug's lap because I figured just sitting for a ride might not make someone sweat as much as pushing that same someone through the soupy air. I broke out into a jog as we crossed France Ave (seriously, stoplight -- you need to give pedestrians longer than 15 seconds to cross seven lanes) and all of a sudden she throws the blanket off of her lap. It catches in the stroller wheels, stopping the left one dead cold.
The amount of adrenaline in my body would make you think I was trying to cross the autobahn. KEEP GOING, DON'T STOP, WE'RE GOING TO GET HIT! So I drag the stroller, and the blanket finally comes loose. I look at it, and as I debate turning back to pick it up I notice the light turn yellow. ABORT. ABORT. I'm not sure what the right decision would have been -- I figured I looked like an ass either way.
I locked the stroller wheels and parked her as far away from the street as I could. Then I turned around and stood at the corner with my hands on my hips looking back at the forlorn piece of white cloth as cars raced by. Somehow it doesn't get mauled, and I dash back out and grab it when the coast is clear. I worry it's an omen. Of incompetence.
I am sweating so heavily when we walk into Caribou I'm worried they won't serve me a hot beverage.
I have no one to call immediately to report my latest episode. Sadness: 18, Me: -34.
Bug and I continue our walk through Centennial Lakes. We head back to Beau Beau and Mimi's and I take a shower. Matt left me a message earlier that the swearing in moved up to 9:45. I figure we're still good on time.
And then somehow it's like 9:10 and we haven't left yet. The street in front of my parents' house is torn up and we had to park our cars a block over. I still have to get Bug into the stroller, then walk through the yards (they were pouring new curbs today) to get to the car, and THEN load up. I'm convinced one of my boobs is going to pop out of my dress as I awkwardly sprint through the grass in my flip flops with my camera around my neck, trying to push the stroller as it thrashes side to side.
We get to the car and Bug is having a FIT. I snap at her to cut it out so I can buckle her in already and she starts to cry. I feel like a shit, so I apologize, but still cram her in there. I am FREAKING OUT that we are going to be late and miss everything. I take a chance and drive down W 70th (also completely torn up) instead of taking the back way, hoping no front loaders are blocking the street. We get on 100, and I'm already going 70 by the end of the on ramp.
The damn government shutdown means that the HOV lanes are stuck permanently westbound, and I'm heading eastbound. OF COURSE there is traffic on 394. I am almost in tears. It is also at this point that I realize I forgot to grab the address of where I'm supposed to go.
I have a general idea, though, and I spot the building, which is on 3rd Ave and Washington. I have no idea where to park, though. I turn on 2nd Ave, and then on 2nd St (which is one over from Washington). I see a meter and I grab it. I haul us all out of the car, and look at my watch. 9:30. Whew. We walk toward the building and I realize that I don't know what door to walk in. We go around toward 3rd Ave, where there is a whole row of open meters, right next to the building. Awesome. The large set of doors on that side is roped off, though. I run around to the other side (no, really, I'm running) past the first doors which are at the top of the steepest set of outdoor stairs I have ever seen. At the base of the second set of doors I run to the top and see a sign that says USE OTHER DOOR. Argh. I run back to the first set of doors and go up them backward, dragging the stroller up every single 1920s shallow steep stair. At the top a security guard opens the door for me (as I'm sure he's been watching me) and informs me there's a ramp on the side of the building, which would be the one side of the building I didn't walk by. Either way. We go through security and then down to MEPS. We get there and I am SWEATING. And I am nervous. And I don't have my glasses, so I can't see anything. They point me to a waiting room and then Matt walks in shortly after. It appears that I could have arrived earlier and we would have had more time together. I feel like such a horrible person. I am always late or JUST on time... why couldn't I have gotten my shit together for THIS? (My hair did look good though, thanks to the time I spent straightening it).
We mingle for a bit. Bug is being opinionated about everything. She throws every single magazine off of the table. She doesn't want to be held. She wants to eat puffs, and throw things. That's it.
Matt leaves and then all of a sudden appears again on the other side of the windows in the room. There are four other kids in there (I figure they have to be at least 18, but that's it). This guy is walking them through what will happen, how to stand. He asks them what they're doing. There's two other guys going in the Navy, one in the Marine Corps, and one in the Army. One is going to be a diver, one a truck driver (seriously, is there a check box for that?), two are doing some acronym I don't know (my time at TGT should help with learning new ones?) and one is "open."
They disappear again and I'm told I can stand at the back of the room. I am the only visitor there. This makes me feel sort of awkward, and like I shouldn't be there for some reason. The room is empty and she's squawking so we walk out to the adjacent waiting room with the TV. The guy asks me why I'm not standing in the ceremony room. I tell him that she's making a lot of noise, and he shrugs and says it doesn't matter. So we walk back in. Bug is shoving puffs in her mouth like she's eating popcorn at the movie theater. The boys walk back in. Bug is babbling. I wonder what they're thinking. They're not allowed to turn around.
The Army sergeant who is performing the ceremony walks into the waiting room, and I look through the window as the previous guy briefs him on who is in the room. I can hear him say "musician" and then there's some unintelligible "huh" and "really" sounding noises. Then "Navy." Then I hear truck driver, acronyms, blah blah. He opens the door and walks in. I feel kind of like we are at Disney. He follows what appears to be a memorized script. His accent is so heavy that I can barely understand him, and I'm glad that I'm not the one he is barking questions at, because I would surely answer them wrong (like when I'm on conference calls at work with India and I always think to myself, thank goodness that wasn't a question for me, because they would have had to repeat it three more times).
They recite the oath, other things I can't remember, and then leave. Bug and I stand there and I point out all the seals (crests?) on the wall for every branch of the military. She seems legitimately intrigued. Matt comes back out and the Army guy reenacts the ceremony (which looked nothing like the real one) so I can take pictures. We take a few more. I feel odd again that I'm the only person there -- where is everyone else's family? If this were my child I think I would want to be here for this? To see them off?
We walk in the hallway and talk for another 5 minutes or so. Then we have to leave. We hug. There's crying. It's worse when I stand there with him, like I did last night when I drove him to the hotel and blubbered my way through goodbye. It just needs to be done, and we figure it out and move on. We said goodbye.
I figured out where the ramp was so we didn't have to go down the stairs head first when we left. As we're walking out, the original guy is also heading out for a smoke. He points at my chest and says something and I realize he's offering to take my visitor name tag that I completely forgot about. I tell him thanks and walk away.
Bug and I stop at Dunn Bros. We get back in the car and she completely falls apart on the way home. I try giving her my bracelets and it calms her down for 30 seconds before she starts screaming again. I worry that one of them is pinching her or something but I can't really see and I don't want to pull over because I just want TO BE HOME.
This afternoon we were reading books and I totally lost it when I got to "Boa Constrictor, Boa Constrictor." Sadness: 137, Me: -800.
AND THEN. I had to go to a doctor's appointment this afternoon at 3:15. I'm ready to leave the house at 2:45 when I realize that I cannot find my car keys. I tear through the house. Nothing. Bug is sitting in the closed garage, strapped into her stroller, eating puffs. I know where Matt's keys are -- in the arm rest, in the car. I worry that I somehow left the keys in the trunk, since I was on the phone when I got out of the car. I can't even think about what I would need to do to get the car unlocked. WHERE THE F ARE MY KEYS. It's 3:00. I no longer have time to walk to the doctor and be on time, which I would have done if necessary.
So I call my mom. And as I'm talking to her on the phone, it's like her sixth sense is coursing through the phone lines and some invisible force is working its magic and I open the canopy on the stroller and THERE THEY ARE. How do moms do that, anyway??
I worry that I'm completely falling apart, and that I am doomed for the next ten weeks.
It gets worse when I realize that my phone is dying, and I need it to be functional so Matt can call me when he gets there, and I CANNOT FIND MY PHONE CHARGER. I actually call the hotel we stayed at earlier this week and ask them to check and then stupidly give them my cell phone number to call me back on, which is useless if the thing does completely die.
I eventually find the phone charger.
Matt was able to text and call me while he was waiting for his flight at MSP, and again when he got to Chicago. Then around 7:00 tonight I got my official "I'm at boot camp" phone call. He said they told him he'd get to call me again in three weeks. Which is sooner than I thought, because I was thinking it would be not until he was done.
I went to yoga tonight and it felt great. I'm kind of looking forward to going almost every night now that there is no husband sitting at home by himself.
I'm so curious what he is doing right now. I wish I could be a fly on the wall. I'll be sure to report what he writes to me. The online "Family Guides" for boot camp are completely worthless, because it's clear their target audience is moms of 18 year old boys, not wives of 27-year-old scrawny musicians.
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Yesterday as one last fun family activity we went to the Edina pool. It was like chlorinated, horrendously overpriced self-doubt. These women are RIDICULOUS. And then every time I was convinced that the girl leading the kids around was the nanny, because fer serious how could you have child(ren) and look like that?, one of the kids would whine "Mooommmmmm, nooooooo, I don't wanna!" and I died a little more on the inside. There were clearly two groups: the women who never really recovered from pregnancy, no matter how long ago it was, and didn't really care because they were carrying Gucci, and the unBELIEVABLY fit women. I know it's rude to stare, but I wanted to stare. Gah. Not that I'm horrible myself, but since Bug happened, I am not wearing a two piece ever again (that makes it sound like I did once, and I didn't).
The other traumatizing part of the trip was the part where I forgot that the last time I wore a swimsuit in public was 2009. I am one of probably 4 women in America who is terrified of bikini waxes, not to mention that any sense of urgency around grooming was completely eliminated since being pregnant. Matt tried to give me the non-commital "it's not that bad," but I knew better. It was bad. I tried to walk with my hands in front of me, as if I needed to keep a handle on my thighs to make sure they didn't fall off. In the past I always ignored the "skirt" swimsuit bottoms because I never felt I had any hips to hide, but I have a new appreciation for them now. Of course Target was sold out of them this afternoon. I guess this is why they make backyards and hoses and kiddie pools.
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Tomorrow Bug has an appointment at the ENT. There's a whole lot of medical stuff about Bug that I'm behind on updating on, but I don't know that I have the energy. We might just skip over the last set of traumatizing appointments and just pick up going forward.
Who needs a husband when you have a blog to rehash all the stupid things that happen to you on a daily basis? The only bad thing is that a blog will not split the bag of chocolate chips with you. So when the bag is empty you can no longer justify that you didn't eat ALL of them, because you actually did.
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