Wednesday, August 09, 2006

Realizations Part 1: Class of 2020

I had a plethora of realizations last night. That's what happens when I don't sleep.

First of all, I realized that my son is a member of the Class of 2020. Which basically means that 2020 will be my year of freedom.

"Freedom!" Can you hear me yelling that? "Freeeedommmm!"

There's a commercial on television right now that shows parents dropping their kid off at college and then crying on the way home. Every time we see that commercial, my husband and I laugh. That will not be us. We will be partying our little hearts out the day my son goes to college.

What? I swear. You'll see.

I also realized that this will be the most stressful year of my life.

Oh, it sounds like all fun and games now that both of my kids are in school five days a week. But it's not.

Because I have to pick my son up at noon, and my daughter up at three, plus run around to ballet and violin practices; never mind homework, math practice, reading time, at-home violin practice every day...

Wait. Where was I? Oh, yes. Stress.

Man, I would love to move closer to their school to save on commute times and gas money.

Except the home I want in that neighborhood is selling for 1.4 million buckaroos. I don't see that happening any time soon.

Which reminds me of a little story!

We were at a squadron party a couple of weeks ago and one of my husband's old classmates said to us, "So, are you going to move into field grade housing?"

I spun around on my husband. "We can move into field grade housing?"

"Ah, ah..." he stammered.

His friend said, "Oh, sorry, man," and made his escape.

If I had realized that we could have moved into better housing last year when he was promoted, we would have been on that housing list so fast, it would have mad his head spin. But he doesn't want to go through the hassle of moving, even though it would mean another bedroom, an extra room next to the kitchen, and a garage that isn't a half mile away.

All for free! Just because he got promoted.

Hell! I'm ready to move out of this house just because it's dirty. The next time I have to face off against a winged-bringer of doom (i.e. a cockroach) we're moving. No arguments.

It's that or the 1.4 million dollar place with the indoor pool.

For the things I made that man feel last night...twice...

I deserve it.

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