My Husband's Mistress

Thats right- you read that correctly. My husband has a mistress.. her name is Afghanistan. And she is a needy wench. Once a year or so she gets lonely and forces my husband to fly across the globe to keep her company for almost the whole year. Leaving me here to have a grand old time as a single parent. And to top it off, whenever the Beast leaves for deployment, all hell breaks loose. If you were sitting around your house thinking, "Hmm I wonder what its like to be Dani over in Colorado while her Beast man is gone.." first I'd tell you that you need to get a life, and then I would enlighten you to the joys of being a military wife to two military brats.

6:00 AM
The day usually starts out with Spaz yelling from his gated off room (you'll learn more about the imprisonment later),
"Mom! Mom! Mama! Mom! Mama! Mama! Mama! Mom! Moooooooooooooom!!!! GET UP!"
"Yes, Spaz, Im coming!"
"Moooooooooooom!!!! Im poopy!"

6:30AM
After I clean up my Spaz' diaper and lecturing him on the joys of going potty on the actual toilet, I begin chasing him around for 15 minutes yelling- "Spaz put a diaper on! We don't do naked mornings... that ended 2 1/2 years ago! Get back here. No don't pee over there!!"

6:45AM
Next is the youngest Spaz, AKA Ogre Baby. I smell something rancid coming from my bedroom. As I walk toward the room all I can think is, "Oh please be a rotting animal..." But nope. That is an explosion of mess in the crib next to the bed. A good morning present from my little gift from the heavens.

7:30AM
After cleaning up that mess we move on to feeding each monster. Ogre baby is easy to feed. He usually wants boob AND bottle then he licks the bottle clean after leaving me deflated. Spaz on the other hand wants one thing and one thing only- Hotdogs and chocolate milk. After telling him no he needs a normal breakfast he usually eats about two bites. After changing, feeding, cleaning, changing again, getting dressed (Which is sweatpants, t-shirt, and hair in pony with dark circles under my eyes) and packing bags, we are finally out the door to school. Oh but not before I hear a powerful voice scream,

"Moooom!!!! Mommmmyyy!!! Im poopy!"

8:30AM
Finally Spaz is at daycare after 10 hugs, 25 kisses, and 15 mins of stalling because he doesn't want me to leave, Ogre Baby and I find a couch to study on while we wait for Chem class. And by study, I mean attempt to read some Chemistry while every other person who walks by stops to say hi to Ogre Baby and ask me 30 questions on being a mom and a student. Let me break it down for you: Being a mom is easy. Because its instinct. Being a student is not. Its not instinct for me to know how to write the condensed structure of 2,2-dimethyl-3-ethylbutanol. I don't think thats any sane human's instinct.
If I'm lucky Beast will Skype me and we will chat about the local gossip and plans for when he comes back. During this I usually get some insane stares from the other students. Why is that hot mess of a chick with that small squawking human talking to her computer?

12:05PM
Class is finally done and Ogre has ate twice but wants more again after his continuous farting through the whole lecture. Baby or not- farts aren't cute.

2:00PM
After an afternoon of cleaning, feeding Ogre Baby, studying, some renovations, feeding Ogre Baby some more, changing 50 diapers with unimaginable colors inside, trying to fit a little time of working out in, and feeding Ogre Baby some more, its time to run to the Post Office to send Beast some care packages. I would like to say this is a quick run.... Ill stand there for an hour waiting as one person works the desk with a 3 mile long line full of angry and high Coloradans continuously bitching about the postal service and blaming it on either, A) the government, B) Obama, C) Immigrants or, D) the Yeti.

3:00PM
As I carry my 50 lb load of baby and carseat into the daycare, while trying to punch in our code through 2 security doors, I start to feel like Im visiting a prison inmate after signing my name in through two books onto of that. I finally get to his classroom door. Spaz's teachers then continue to tell me like they do EVERY day since Beast left, that Spaz was very emotional today and I need to continue to work with him and his emotions. If not that, I get an incident report on how some kid jumped mine and beat the toddler out of him... For how much we pay for daycare here for not even full time, I think they can keep their opinions on how my son is handling his dads departure to themselves and do their jobs.

4:00PM 
Its time for the FRG meeting. For those not associated with the military, this is the Family Readiness Group. The team of wives that help each other out during deployments with anything. For those who are associated with the military, this should be RFG for Real Fast Gossip. I don't usually go but I try and make an effort to be involved and get to know more of the wives. However, like a lot of fellow enlisted wives, I have learned a few things of the people to avoid. You avoid those who think they sweat gold and shit glitter. The ones who can do no wrong because of their husbands rank. Because of these women I usually don't partake in the meetings. I don't feel like sitting next you while you tell me how you know exactly what I'm going through as a mom while her husband is away because you have two cats. Because as all of you mothers know- cats and dogs are just like parenting a child.

5:00PM
Its time for dinner. So I ask Spaz what would he like?
"Hotdogs and chocolate milk"  So Chicken and potatoes it is. As Im cooking, I have Ogre Baby who is hungry again and screaming in my arms to feed him because he won't take pacifiers (iv never appreciated a pacifier more than I have in the last two months), and I have a toddler running around naked screaming hotdogs! chocolate milk! cars cars cars!! Im looking around the corner continuously saying, "put your diaper back on!"...

6:00PM
After getting Spaz to eat two bites of his food, begging him to finish his milk, and giving him yet another dose of benedryl because he has again broke into hives, I bribe him to sit and watch Cars for the 20th time this week- Ogre Baby wants to eat more. Im feeding him while a toddler drags me across the house by my pants to help him with a million things he's managed to break. ONLY TWO MORE HOURS UNTIL BEDTIME... After the 10th melt down in a row, I keep telling myself- you don't want to drink that bottle of wine.

7:30PM
Its bath time now and I fill up the tub but not fast enough. Spaz strips off the clothes Iv put on him for the 30th time and throws every toy he owns into the tub. I start to say, "No, not that one! That one has batteries!!" But its too late. And another one bites the dust.

8:00PM 
FINALLY. Bed time. The heavens have opened and the angels are singing hallelujah. First I have to clean up the gallons of water Spaz has dumped out of the tub. He believed it was the funniest damn thing since sliced bread. Now begins the real fun for the night. The game of "How many times can I get out of bed before mom duct tapes me to my mattress"... Bring it on little man. After an hour of me putting him into his bed and him laughing and chasing me out, naked none-the-less, I gate off his room and he's FINALLY passed out, head down, legs over the side of the bed. As if he was praying that I would let him stay up longer. So I head to bed after cleaning up the tornado that went through the house.. But ill be up every 3 hours or less to feed my garbage disposal baby. As Im laying there about to fall asleep I realize... I haven't even eaten yet.