Just When I Have a Grip ...

Army 236 / Megan 0. But who's counting, right?

Some time ago, while having coffee with a then soon-to-be spouse I told her, "Write in pencil."

I honestly think that this may possibly be the absolute worst life-style for a planner (which I am). But I cannot tell you how many of my friends are just like me. And some have given in a little bit more than me - they write things down in pencil in the planner that they cling to. Maybe they have a little more sense than me - maybe a bit more sanity. I won't give up my pen. I don't care how much I know that whatever I just wrote next to whatever date will change, and will change again, and will change - yep - let's go with at least one more time. I know that. And I will take my pen and draw a single line through whatever I wrote, and write it somewhere else, and do it again, and again. My monthly calendar pages sometimes look a bit like prison stripes. Maybe I do it to torture myself - maybe I think that just this time its gonna stay the same. This entry will not be crossed through. This time. This time is the time.

But I know it won't be. But I won't give up my pen.

But I didn't even have this written down - it was just in my head. A general timeframe - a general plan of how these next four months would pan out. I had planned around this general timeframe - done a lot of planning. Harmless, right?

Army: 237 ...

I swear I would have pulled the hairs from my head one at a time if it would take the pressure away that was building up inside of it. "Are you KIDDING me?" I didn't say it out loud - it wouldn't make sense to him. And it wasn't the big things that needed to get done that were hitting me - I wasn't really stressed about those. I had already thought of them - those were kind of the easy parts. It was everything else that they had covered up. The toys - the tons and tons of toys. The magazines. The "stuff" that was everywhere all of a sudden. The box after box after box of stuff that not only did we have to move, but we had to store because we probably wouldn't need them before the next move. When was that gonna be? In a year? In two? In three? Could I leave them here? That only made sense if we moved back down South. No, no, they should come ... but maybe they should stay.

And the large baby items - to hold onto them or sell them or donate them. To store or to move? Made sense to stay if we PCS'd sooner rather than later. But I didn't know! Clothes - hold onto the three sizes that were now too big for me? Or donate them. What if I needed them again? Ugh! No way. And the car - trade up to the vehicle that was better equipped for a cross country move with two toddlers and a moving trailer in tow? Wait till we made it to CO to do that? Keep the long miles off the new car? Or keep 'em off the trade? Hmmm ... Did it make sense to move thngs that may just be stored anyway or wait to move them from here for the next one? Take that crib apart one more time or just get a toddler bed when we get there. Hmmm ...

Oh no - I couldn't think straight anymore. I wasn't just stressed over the change in this move - I was overwhelmed by the unknown of the next. Seriously - what other life leaves you to stress about planning your NEXT move while completing a current one.

I swear if the Army gods were women ...

But they aren't and this is the life. And somewhere down deep - I find it. The good. This stress means this move is going to happen. This move means he's almost home. Just a few more months. We're almost there - just one step at a time. One foot after the other. I can do this. I will do this. I am doing this. One step after another. Bring it on. I got this. He's coming home.

Maybe I will go find myself a pencil.

Maybe.