The Military Spousal Guide for Changing Sheets During Deployments

Dear Military Spouses (also Long-Distance Relationshippers, Spouses of Business Travelers, etc):

I don’t know about you, but I hate changing sheets alone. It ranks #3 on my list of Things I Hate During Deployments.

#1 is everything breaking all the time. Seriously.

#2 is changing the duvet. That shit’s hard, yo. I usually get lost in the corner and have to take a nap before I can tunnel my way back out. Plus, no one can fluff like my husband.

*wink*

ANYWAY. After a recent sheet change, it occurred to me. I could change sheets half as often. But not be twice as gross. It’s so simple, I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before. PLUS it’ll help the mattress wear and tear.

I’m just going to switch sides.

When it’s time to change the sheets F it. I’m rolling over to the empty side.

IT’S SO OBVIOUS.

Maybe the cat will give me more room over on that side, too. He’s been trying to bully me out of my side for weeks.

That's a King Size Bed, y'all.

That’s a King Size Bed, y’all. With a Crouching Tiger.

 

What can I say? I’m a genius.

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What Big A Doesn’t Know…May Shock Him

We are at the FINAL COUNTDOWN of Big A’s return and both of us are wicked crazy $%^@%3 excited about it. Even more so than when he was gone for eight months, at least for me. This one’s been tough, mainly because of Little A, obviously, but also because he had JUST finished a tour before going back out. But we had agreed that this was the best option – the other being leaving me alone with a newborn.

And that is a terrible idea.

When he left, I looked like this:

Week 17

As of a week ago, I looked like this:

Week 34

So things have changed a bit. Juuuust a little bit.

We had the following conversation yesterday (paraphrased because I can’t remember shit anymore):

AM: Ugh, this kid and his butt.
Big A: What do you mean his butt?
AM: Well, it’s either his butt or he’s got really big feet.
Big A: (doesn’t get it)
AM: Well, his head is down and to the right and his butt is up under my left ribs and presses out and I can feel it. It’s like the size of my palm. So it better be his butt or he’s got ginormous feet.
Big A: But…how do you know he’s head down? (He was also shocked I could tell body parts)
AM: Because the doctor told me he was and I can also feel his hiccups right above my right hip, where his face would be.
Big A: WHAT. THAT IS CREEPY.
AM: YOU’RE TELLING ME.

He’s in for it the first time he sees the alien wave of fetal movement from across the room. Because that’s some scary shit right there.

Side story about hiccups: A few years ago a coworker was pregnant and the fetus got the hiccups and made her belly jump. It was the first time I had ever seen a belly MOVE ON ITS OWN and I definitely ran from her office, down the hallway and back to my desk screaming. In heels. Fast forward and here I make my own semi-uncomfortable-with-the-idea coworker put her hand on my stomach so she could feel them. Her reaction was less intense than bolting down a hallway, but I still creeped her out. And I was proud.

I also told Big A it’s now a race between him and my belly button. I don’t know if it can stay an innie until his return. We are edging closer and closer to the turkey timer territory.

Which is quite nearly literal. He is almost fully baked.

I hope he comes with stuffing. Stuffing is my favorite.