This isn't boring. Damn it.

Regular readers around here will know, I shoot for 'boring' as a standard of living. Excitement in my life always involves nasty things (seven-thousand-mile moves, deathly illness, all that major life moment shit) and so I prefer days full of nothin'.

Unfortunately I'm not getting nothin' for the next little while.

I'm trying to figure out exactly how to tell this, because the root of the annoyance goes back FIFTEEN YEARS. I suppose the beginning is a good place.

So. Fifteen years ago, the husbeast and I were married. He was military at the time, had been in about three years, so I knew what I was getting into. After a year of watching women raise children on their own while thier husbands were out to sea, and after watching the men come home and their own chldren not recognize them, I decided we would wait until the husbeast's last assignment - at which point my reproductive system should be on it's last gasp - and we'd have a kid. His last assignment was supposed to be shore duty, so he'd be home the whole time. Then he'd retire. So the kid would have a father. This was a good plan. In retrospect I'm thinking it over and even in hindsight, I agree with the decision and think it's a good plan. I followed it. (The Baby was planned - only a couple months off the Master Plan, which is amazing given 36 year old ovaries were involved.) All went just as I wanted, the husbeast and The Baby are together, and I've been congratulating myself for having the smarts to plan this at the age of 23. Except for one tiny little thing.

THE FUCKING GODDAMN NAVY CHANGED THE RULES.

Oh yes. It turns out the shore duty will be shorter than it's supposed to be, and the husbeast has to finish out his time in the Navy with two years of sea duty (being assigned to a ship or sub and going wherever it goes). In practical terms, this means we're going to move some time in the next nine months. Of course we have no idea where yet. (This was all broken to me the night before last. I'd known it was a possibility, but not that it was absolutely going to happen.)

Best case scenario, we go back to Hawaii. There is a FAINT possibility this will happen. Faint, but just possible. Even as a best case, it isn't that good - if I go back to Hawaii I'll have a hard time leaving again (I can easily imagine chaining myself to a bigass lava boulder on the N Shore). And it will be seven thousand miles from the in-laws, so The Baby will lose touch with her grandparents. Guam is also possible. Hahah.

More likely best case scenario, we get moved to Virginia or San Diego. I hate Virginia, San Diego's too far away, but Virginia's good in terms of being close to the family for support while the hubby's away.

Worst case scenario? The hubby gets posted to the George Washington (an aircraft carrier) in Japan. He goes to Japan, The Baby and I go to Ohio or Connecticut and I go to school and the Baby sees her dad for a total of maybe four months for the next two years. Considering this is exactly what I was trying to avoid when I waited until I was 37 freaking years old to have a kid, this idea pisses me off beyond words. (There is also the option of moving to Japan with him - which would mean I would be alone and raising a kid in a foreign country, because aircraft carriers are often out to sea nine months a year. We still wouldn't see him.)

So. That's what's going on around here. I'm sure you'll all get to hear more long rants on the topic, as needed. Haha.

Here, the Baby says, "This sucks!"