Fret fret fret

I'll admit that this was a tough weekend, emotionally. The announcement of a deployment date left me pacing like a caged lioness. I'll spill my guts more on that later, when I get a grip. Or even if I don't.

Meantime, a few more tidbits. I forgot to tell you Brian shaved his head Saturday. They all had to get uber-short haircuts for this gig, as it was for beginning basic training. Apparently, he got back to his room, thought "what the hell," and foamed his head up with shaving cream. He only nicked his head in one place, he told me, proudly.

Hey, most of my best male friends sport this look, so I think he's just adorable with it. I still acted all Motherly (I can't help it) and commented about wearing sunscreen in the desert: he's going to burn! He'll be wearing a helmet, he reassured me. "A HELMET? That's going to wear a blister through your scalp!" [Imagine that in a squawky, motherly voice.]

The army needs to recruit Army Mothers.

I'd enlist in a heartbeat! Think of it! I'd walk up and down the barracks, "there-there-ing" the soldiers, and scolding drill sargeants that were too harsh with my boys.

I'd feed them spaghetti and rice krispie treats, and box their ears when necessary, and tell them to respect women, and to wear sunscreen.

I'd make them write thank-you notes, and call their Mama's. "Don't give her any lip, either, boy," I'd say. Then I'd kiss them atop their shiny pink heads and tell them to get some sleep.

All 400 of them.

It would be my job.

I'd be very good at it.

Of course, Brian's friends would probably also throw in that on any given Friday night, I'd take them for tattoo's and do shots with them.

I'd be Lydia the Tattoo'd Army Mom.

It has just occurred to me that someone may be having a difficult time letting go of this mothering stuff. I'm not mentioning any names, but her initials are GnightGirl.

So anyhoot, Brian and Co. did arrive in Fort Irwin last night, in the middle of the night, to a nice frigid 12-degrees. TWELVE deeeee-greeees. In the middle of the desert. That doesn't make sense to me.

Being motherly, when things don't make sense to me, I check them out. (Smart mothers know what I'm talking about.) It's true! www.weather.com says that tomorrow morning at 6 a.m., it will be FIVE degrees at Fort Irwin.

And my boys are sleeping in TENTS.

I'll find the keys. Somebody grab my purse. I have to run 400 extra blankets out to the desert, and start tucking my boys in for the night. Anybody call shotgun?

Sigh.

I wish.