Happy birthday Steve

Today my husband turns 24. Hard to believe. Especially since I told him last night that I couldn't believe he was turning 23. He looked at me and said, "Jenn, I'm only a year younger than you. How old do you think you are?" And I truly believed I was 24. But apparently I turned 25 at some point. Hmm. Don't really remember that happening. But he did the math (because I am not good at math), so IT MUST BE TRUE. Woe is me for being so old that I've already forgotten my age.

Anywho, at least I remembered his birthday (thanks for the reminders, iphone!) and have set out to make an ice cream cake for him today. I recently asked him what he would like for his special birthday dinner. He knew this would be limited to what I could cook for him at home since it's a work night and Sam is not the best eater-outer. So he opted for a frozen pizza. I don't know if I should be thankful that he picked a meal requiring no effort on my part, or insulted that he doesn't want me to actually cook something. I will be easy and go with thankful.

Between last week and this week, I think he's made it home in time for dinner (meaning: sometime before 10pm) all of once. Last week, this was cause for major headaches and bickering. After reading this well-written post, I have since adjusted my attitude and this week has been much MUCH easier (at least for me). I think I tapped into some deep Southern Baptist roots while I was reading it, as I was doing lots of head-nodding, "Amen"-ing out loud, probably had my hands up in the air like, Girl, I KNOW right? PREACH IT.

I can't control how long he stays at work, when he goes out to the field, who inconveniently has a problem that they wait to bring up at 6pm when he is getting ready to leave, or anything else about his job. But maybe if a couple of donuts ended up on the commander's desk, reminding him that today is my beloved's birthday and that I would really love to see him before my eyes shut tonight, he might get home on time just this once? Maybe?

Ah, well, worth a shot at least.

I was forced to do this, you see, because ORIGINALLY, I had these grand plans of making him funfetti pancakes for breakfast when he got home from PT. Even went so far as to make a special trip to the commissary (in the rain, mind you) to get more syrup and funfetti mix. But he comes home last night telling me that the commander says to skip going home after PT. Just stay at the company to shower. Ya know, I wish this guy would at least run these ideas by me beforehand. It could really simplify things. But he does not (yet), so I came up with Plan 2, and that was to bring breakfast to him.

After dropping off breakfast to our birthday boy, Sam and I had to race across town to get to his doctor's appointment. And guess what? He's still orange apparently! I just do! not! see it! So the doc wants to do bloodwork to test his liver function. I am strongly opposed to this because #1. it is a bajillion degrees in this office and Sam and I are both sweating like turkeys on Thanksgiving. (This is not really "winter" here. No need to run the heat like you do.) #2. Sam vehemently opposes having his blood pressure taken on his FOOT; how on EARTH will we survive needles and a blood draw?!?!?!?!?!?!
Why did I talk myself out of wearing my prescription-strength deodorant today.....

The nurse in charge of baby blood-draws comes in, takes one quick look at him, and says, "Oh he doesn't have any liver problems. Just lay off the carrots." I told her that we had already cut all orange food out of his diet for two straight weeks, hoping to fix this issue. And she said, "I take it you were feeding him carrots and orange foods for much longer than two weeks. So it's most likely going to take more than two weeks to correct itself. If he's still orange in six months, call me then." HA! In yo FACE docta'! No bloodwork for us. That was a good thing, because I was going to have to start stripping some clothes off if I had to be in that office much longer. And that is something that NO ONE wants to see.

Speaking of clothes and being ridiculously uncomfortable, we recently got word that our company's military ball is coming up in March. Like, the part of March BEFORE I pop this baby out. So I will obviously be grotesquely huge and not the slightest bit drunk at this shindig (talk about a 180...), and you can all tell that it's just going to be so much FUN. My question to you is this: Where does one go about finding a formal maternity gown/dress to wear to such a function? Why yes, I HAVE searched craigslist, and no, I have found nothing worth spending money on. (I know. Jinxed myself talking about my awesome craigslist luck yesterday. Dang.) I really don't want to buy a brand new maternity gown (GAWD, that sounds so ugly and fat...). Any suggestions? Know of any type of rental company that might lease out giant ball gowns? Maybe I could just find a nice, silk bedsheet and drape it appropriately. Tell folks I'm going for that Grecian look. Also, have any of you military wives made it through an entire military ball completely sober? Is there any hope for me? Or am I doing "the unthinkable"?