The Two Peas in a Pod Perfection

I got a second job.

I know what you’re thinking. Really? Married-single-parent, multiple pet owner, substitute teacher, volunteer of a million things at church and school just weren’t enough?

I guess not.

So I’ve been doing this Other Job (which shall be known thusly because of my desire NOT to make you my customer of this direct sales company) for ten weeks and um, yeah.

I’ve got a team of five under me now. It got to a point where I was working so much that I am allowing myself one day off of subbing for every day I work the Other Job. Now I only sub 2-3 days a week.

I enjoy what I’m doing, the perks are great, and sometimes I do miss the high school kids.

But mostly I do it for our family.

My husband R is finally in his twentieth year of the Navy and he faces a number of choices on how he should go about leaving the service. His case is unusual (as many soldiers’ are) and there is not one simple road map he could follow.

Then again, there rarely is a simple road map any of us can follow, military or not.

I want to be able to say to him when he finally MOVES IN:

“Look, it’s your time now. I will go to work. I WANT to go to work. You enjoy your time AT HOME and WITH OUR CHILDREN to make up for lost time. Time we’ll never get back but we still have so much time ahead of us. (Or work part-time if disability benefits allow it, preferably somewhere nearby to save on gas and with a huge discount.)”

Last month doctors found a benign tumor on his right thyroid which explains why, at last fall’s Chief’s Ball he almost choked to death. His friends brought him to the ER and everything seemed fine. And usually it is.

But this was one of those rare cases that there was another cause. (And we both thought it was because, like most sailors, he ate too much too fast.) Had he left the Navy early right after the accident (which many friends and family still insist should have happened), I think it might have gone undetected.

Next month he comes home on leave for two weeks. When he returns, doctors will remove that son-of-a-bitch-tennis-ball-size of a tumor along with that right thyroid.

I asked him to ask the doctors if he could keep it as evidence that there is indeed a tumor and that he wasn’t just going off to Mexico with his friends for a drunken weekend.

Doctors also found a cyst on his left thyroid. They’ll be looking at that (biopsy? taking it out?) in May also.

Baffling as it is, I wonder, Really? Surviving a terrible car accident that left you bedridden for two months and a wheelchair for four months, and with PTSD and a traumatic brain injury wasn’t enough?

Wow, we really do make a good couple.

Buddy and I made a cute couple at the vet today. I, erm, forgot to get him microchipped and registered with the city after he bit someone at the vet’s office last month… And I got a citation. Fixable citation! What’s funny is that the animal control officer apologized as she handed me the citation! Don’t apologize, lady! It’s MY fault!

Well, I didn’t exactly say those words but I was close.

I spent the day fixing my mistake and Buddy spent the day trying to sit in my lap!



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