It slipped.

I did not come from a military family.  My husband did not join as a young 'un out of high school.  We were married 4.5 years before he enlisted, and he was the ripe old age of 27 just 3 weeks after graduating from boot camp.  I have felt for a long time like I have to make this ride seem easy to our families.  You know, we got more than our fair share of guilt trips for leaving the area.  On top of that, certain members of our families have said that my wonderful husband had to "settle" for being a Coastie because there was nothing else for him to do in our hometown.  Yeah, that one stings.  Because of the negativity I feel from them, I want to make SURE they know that this way of life is FABULOUS.  (Keep the laughing at a minimum, please.)

When I talk to family, I try to play everything up as much as possible.  Oh, it's great!  Everything's great!  Yeah, he's gone for a month or so, but it's okay, it'll make him coming home that much sweeter.  You know, all those gold-star answers?  Well, this week that all changed in one conversation with my Dad.

The interesting thing is that Murphy is to blame for this one.  You know, Murphy who made the law that if anything can go wrong it will?  This especially applies for military families when the member is not home.  

Recently my hubby left.  The DAY of his departure, what do I see scampering down the hall, but a mouse!  For many reasons I don't want to get into, I am afraid of them.  They are nasty, NASTY things, and are not welcome in my home.  Seeing them dead is not any comfort to me.  I would prefer not to see them at ALL.  After saying a few choice words, I went out the next morning to purchase the first of many traps and deterrents.  

After a few tries, I determined that the vermin in my home were not interested in the fancy D-Con traps that I purchased selfishly as to not see them.  I resorted to the old-fashioned snap traps.  I will spare you the story, but suffice it to say this girl had to call her Daddy for help.

I'm crying on the phone to my Dad, not wanting to deal with what lies before me, and figure out that I need to go outside for the shovel.  I take one step into the laundry room, and it happened.  Another mouse scurried across the floor, trying unsuccessfully to be hidden in the shadows.  At this point, I lost it.

"I am so tired of doing this by myself.  I am so tired of being alone.  I am tired of being in a place where I don't have ANYONE here to help me.  I have no friends in this neighborhood.  No one nearby.  I just want him home!"

I blew my cover, to say the least.  My brave face, you know, that mask we wear when they're gone... it slipped a little bit, and my freckles, unplucked eyebrows, and enlarged pores started to show.

My mask has been adjusted.  Big girl panties are pulled up, and I am dealing with it.  Well, I'm dealing with it the best way I know how.  

This just goes to show you, sometimes the littlest things can make reality sink in.  (Get it?  Littlest things?  Mice?  Is this thing on?...)