1. Thank you for all of your kind words regarding the head injury I caused Baby Blue last week. I can tell you that there have been no lasting effects and when we went for his 6 month vaccinations this week, the doctor assured me that he would be just fine. Of course, she said those little red spots that appeared across his forehead shortly after it happened were caused by him crying so hard that tiny capillaries in his skin burst. Awesome. I'll be accepting my award for Mother of the Year sometime over the weekend.
2. Also on the baby front, Baby Blue has been discovering his body lately. Toes, nose, ears...and, in the bath tub this week, his Boyish Charm. When I told Neal that evening, he said, "Did you tell Mommy that she should have given you the ducky? Then maybe you wouldn't be playing with the turtle." *sigh* I am in need of some estrogen in this house in a bad way.
3. Up until last week, I had been attending a Zumba class on post. It was OK, but I didn't love it. I left sweaty, but was never sore the next day. And I was paying $4/class. Not sore and free, I can accept. Not sore and paying for the privilege...time to move on. Also, (I hate to admit this) the instructor is not Hispanic or Cuban or Dominican. She's African American. And while she has more rhythm in her thumb than I do my whole body, she teaches Zumba in a very bouncy way. When taught by a Latina, it's very smooth, VERY abdominal-oriented, and really...pretty sexy. So, torn about how to proceed, I emailed the bestie and asked her if it would be rude to quit the class because my instructor isn't Hispanic enough. To which she replied, "I don't think it's bad for you to be racial profiling your Zumba instructor. You have to feel like you got a good work out in." It's so nice when you find someone who will certify your crazy. (Also, she is a black belt in sarcasm.) I ended up buying the official Zumba DVD set, which features a smokin' hot Latina with her bare belly shown the entire class. It's extra motivating as I throw my stretch marked, stretched out one all over the living room.
4.The jobs list came out last week. This is the list of available slots and, therefore, the location of our new home. They varied from Ft. Dix to Corpus Christie to Madison WI to Mesa AZ to Hawaii and Korea... and lots of places in between. There were several slots at Ft. Bragg and a few in Orlando. Even one in Atlanta. But our top 5 choices include staying in this area, moving up to DC, moving slightly farther north to NJ, and (if you can believe it) possibly going back to Ft. Knox. Do I want to go "home"? Meh, not really. Do I want Baby Blue to be surrounded by family and all of his "aunts" during his first 3 years? Absolutely. So, we'll see how it shakes out. We don't find out for at least another 2 weeks. Waiting to find out where you will live next (and the aggressive house hunt that follows) is simultaneously the most thrilling and frustrating part of the job. As I said to Neal this week: "Being in the Army is like being in a cake walk. Sometimes you get Paula Deen's Ooey Gooey Butter Cake, made by Paula Deen herself...and sometimes you get rhubarb pie made by the lady with 8 cats." Fingers crossed for Ooey Gooey Butter Cake.
And now...some pictures...
That's all I have for you this week. I'm trying to gather my thoughts on Yorktown and the My Favorite Things, baby-edition, for next week. May you all have a lovely, bubbly weekend. May the northerners have clear roads by Saturday and may we not need that ark that, according to RoadsideAmerica.com, someone is building in their backyard in the town next door.