I apologize, to anyone out there who is reading, for my long absenses and depressing attitude. Its been a rough few weeks and they have definetly taken their toll.
Grayson is now seven weeks old and has colic. If your not familiar with baby stuff, colic means that my son will scream for hours everyday. Endless screaming with no discernable cause. Someone people say its caused by gas, which seems likely since Gray farts like a horse. Regardless, he screams in the morning, the evening, and LOTS in the night. I am trying not to get too cranky with him, but sometimes I just want to crawl under the desk and hide from the screaming demon that has replaced my beautiful perfect son.
The OB/GYN wanted to put me on Prozac (for post partum depression) but I declined. It would make me feel weak, something I dont need right now. So I will grin, bear it, and never let on that I can barely force myself to get out of bed in the morning!
The good news is that the whole world isn't bad. The husband is going to be done with MCT on tuesday! Which means that its only another few weeks until he gets orders for his PDS! Thinking about it makes me almost giddy. Its nice being with my family, but I want my husband. Plus, I wont feel guilty about making him change diapers and take the 3 a.m. feeding.
I have to say, I am really nervous about making the big move in the middle of winter. We could be sent anywhere and the thought of driving cross country though snow and storm.
Also, I sort of wanted to vent about something. Girls and their Marines dogtags. I am sick to death of seeing girls wearing their husbands dogtags like a fashion accessory. Its abhorrant! Those tags are meant to identify a man who has been mangled beyond recognition! The very sight of them makes me sick to my stomach. My husband showed them to me on his bootcamp leave. I looked once, then told him to put them away. Their meaning is too gruesome to dwell on.
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