Thursday, March 21, 2013


I'm constantly surprised by the things I find myself discussing with The Deputy. Most people call it "compromising". LEO wives call it "negotiating".

Our newest negotiation was over bedtime. That's right. Like a conversation you'd have with your parents in junior high. Only, instead of someone begging to stay up an extra hour, I was trying to convince The Deputy to go to bed earlier.

The conversation went something like this:

Me: "I wish you would come to bed earlier, I hate going to bed alone and then waiting for you to come upstairs..."
The Deputy: "I can't go to sleep that early!" (by early, he means 9:30. I'm old like that)
Me: "But I have to get up at 6:30 every morning, I can't stay up that late!" (By late, I mean at least midnight. The Deputy is a night owl in every sense of the word)
The Deputy: Blank stare.
Me: "If I go to bed 15 nights out of the month alone without complaining (this coming from the girl who actually counted), you should be able to make the sacrifice and go to bed early the other nights..."

That's right, I threw out the word 'sacrifice'. I think it's a great marriage word, I plan on using it for the next forty years.

To cut to the chase, we both came out alive.

I'll continue to sleep alone half of the month (his work nights) and he'll give in and go to bed at a time I'm sure feels like the middle of the afternoon to him the other half. And then I'll continue to roll over to his side of the bed, stick my feet in between his calves and say, "Are my feet cold?!" just to feel him jump, steal all the covers, ask him to be the Big Spoon and fall into a deep sleep by 10:00 pm while he lays awake with my hair in his face, his arm going numb, thinking about how magical and wonderful marriage is! (I can't say for sure that's what he's doing because, well, I never stay up long enough to find out....)

(Photo courtesy of

Friday, March 8, 2013

Work Weekends.

So because of the way The Deputy's work schedule pans out, he's basically off every other weekend, Friday-Sunday. It's a glorious three days of absolute freedom. We know that every other Friday-Saturday we can do whatever we please because we probably don't have anywhere to be...most weekends we end up running errands or doing a whole lot of nothing, but at least we get to choose to do nothing.

Long story short, I'm sick. I've been sick for the past two weeks. Just when I thought I was getting over it ("it" being some weird combination of a cold and hay fever) I woke up Tuesday morning with a lovely stomach virus. I originally thought it was food poisoning (sorry Mom & Dad, I'll never, ever think I got sick from eating at your house ever again. As if the past 24 years of your homecooked food had ever attacked me before. I'm being punished for the very thought!) and would run its course in 48 hours, I was wrong.

Food poisoning means you puke your guts out all night at your brother's apartment while on vacation (freaking out the then toddler niece), feel kind of sea-leggy the next day, but manage to keep Burger King chicken nuggets down nicely at the airport by that night. That's right. I don't just get food poisoning, I get food poisoning the night before I have an 8 hour flight home.

This wasn't that easy. I was stuck in bed all day the first day, dragged my carcass to work the next day and have just been surviving ever since. Every day gets a little better, but I still have no energy or appetite. You know I'm sick-sick when I turn away food.

So long story short (basically, how this relates to the LEO wife life in any way possible), this led to me calling The Deputy last night (that's right, I bugged him at work) and crying my eyes out. I'm exhausted. In all ways imaginable. Physically, spiritually, emotionally, marriage-ly. Okay, so I made up that last word. But in the wife realm, I feel dead. In the past few weeks I haven't done anything but get through the day and pray for bed time.

The Deputy was all sugar and spice on the phone (because he loves me and I'm the luckiest girl ever) and said I can't do anything about anything, I just have to get better and then get back on track. And then he said we'd have a nice weekend together.

Which just reminded me, I'm sick on Off Weekend! Is there anything worse in the entire world?! (Of course there is, but I'm making a dramatic point here).

It's a cruel, cruel world.