Blue, White, and ... Red?

I guess you could say that the Army is a love/hate relationship - an on-again/off-again love affair, if you will. Let's just say, recently, we have been very, very off. 

Like, deleted-them-from-my-FB,-my-twitter,-and-iPhone-kind-of-off. Not.On.Speaking.Terms.

Off. 

Today was a day of surprises and unexpected's and like any classic, good love story we are back "on" again. This last couple of weeks have taken a lot of faith, a ton of prayers, more patience than I have ever managed, and far more Grace than I am worthy of. Amazingly, things were answered quickly and beyond what we could have asked for and these last forty-eight hours have been filled with gratitude for the plan that has been made clearer. 

There's a catch.

And, goodness, Someone has a sense of humor. Just in case some of you have missed it, C is an infantryman. Cross rifles tattooed on his arm, (soon-to-be) attached to the front of my car, tucked into tiny corners of our home. Why is the sky blue?? 

Because God loves the infantry. 

Pretty sure that's a fact.

We bleed blue. We are one proud infantry family.

Well, folks, consider this girl humbled. Very humbled. My best, CAV friend was cracking up on the phone when she called after seeing my post. And I mean quick, short, snorting breaths while she told us how happy she was for us (when she could finally get the sentence out).

Yes. You read that right. We are joining a CAV battalion ... uh ... squadron. C is taking a CAV company ... err ... troop.  The red, the spurs, the ... um (deep breath) ... stetsons. 

Oh, my.

I think I can, I think I can. 

So, fellow Cav Cuties, be kind to this new girl and remain patient with me while I learn your lingo and am introduced to your traditions. I'm ready to earn my spurs, to 'embrace the cav', to maybe even wear red, because I don't do things half-way. When I'm in, I'm in. 

Completely. 

I'm still gonna laugh the first time C wears a stetson. 

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For those of you who have asked to be updated on Eli - his final test came back negative for 80% of all mutations of CF. With that and his last sweat test, his doctor is comfortable saying he does NOT - does NOT - have Cystic Fibrosis. She is making a phone call for a second opinion/confirmation but we are pretty much in the clear. We SO believe in the power of prayer. Thank you all so much for praying for our little boy!

(And in case it wasn't clear, I like to JOKE about Cav but we are so very excited about what is in our future and about joining this unit. : ) More excited than I can say.)

What Are the Odds

The Army provides all kinds of resources when a spouse is deployed. I always, always encourage spouses to use them. Three months ago, about a week after I signed into post housing, I filled out the form requesting for my back yard to be mowed while my husband was in Afghanistan. I waited and waited and waited and every grass-cutting day my grass grew higher and higher and higher. Every Thursday I called to inform them that my grass had not been cut as it was supposed to. Every Thursday I was told that I was on the list and they did not know where the miscommunication was. The housing office sometimes apologized and always assured me someone would come out to take care of it but my grass was never cut.

Whatever.

When C came home he said our tiny backyard was not a yard and therefore not worthy of a lawn mower. He came from the country where his family owns acres and acres and acres of land. I come from the city where houses are sometimes six-feet from each other (or less). To me, it has grass, the grass grows, it's a yard. 

He bought a weed-eater. 

And so for two months him or I have been "cutting" our grass with a weed-eater. 

Yes, we are those people. Yes, I am embarrassed. 

Last night I finally convinced C that since he was leaving for an unknown amount of time on TDY, I needed a lawn mower. I would no longer be that girl. I would no longer have uneven grass. My slight OCD couldn't take it anymore. If I was going to be doing this on my own, I needed a lawn mower - self-propelled, with an attached bag. Last night we went to Lowe's and bought a lawn mower - push, with an attached bag. 

A compromise.

Today, C put the lawn mower together and left to fill up the portable gas tank. I went to the backyard to move the boy's climber and stopped when I saw the climber already on our patio. For a split second I thought C moved it before he left. And then I saw the lawn.

It was cut. 

C didn't do it.

It's Thursday.

What are the odds? 

The Army gods are funny. Their timing is amazing. And I'm not telling them my husband's not deployed. ; )