So. In case you ladies are wondering where all the good ones are, try driving through through the passenger pick-up area at an airport at 11:30 on a Friday night. 'Cause, WOW! You just would not believe what I found! And hell yes, I brought him home!
You know, we have been communicating regularly via phone and Facebook, but it's been almost a year since I have hugged Lance Criminal. I'm truly amazed at the change in him. OK, maybe not "change," so much as "maturity." He seems taller, for one thing, and he has developed that calm, innate confidence that drew me to his father so many years ago. You see, I was a little concerned that The Corps might bring out some unattractive traits in him. Cockiness. Rule-playing. Some Marines are assholes after all, and they do influence their peers. I see a lot of potential for becoming an asshole simply as a defense mechanism. Also, since he enjoys his solitude and likes to think for himself, I wondered if the highly structured environment in the military might beat down his spirit. (He has certainly experienced his fair share of disillusionment, as he has learned the reality of Marine life.)
I'm still not thrilled that he volunteered to change units so he could go overseas, but so far I like the results. He's learning and doing tasks well outside of his MOS, and he is surrounded by more mature, experienced Marines - better role models. This is an ideal environment for his personality; even in his old unit, most of his friends were a little older - he was the "young guy." He is now even less likely to be held back by the shenanigans of kids for whom responsibility does not come naturally. Not that he's an uptight sticker or a prude, he just doesn't have much interest in pursuing pointless or counterproductive behavior.
I have to admit I was a thirtysomething married mom by the time I had developed the relatively steady maturity he is showing at 19. Again, wow.
(Yes, I'm biased. So sue me.)
As for me, I'm a little PO'ed over my health. I haven't slept well this past week, and I've been doing a lot of extra housework. Yesterday my legs started feeling a little weak. With Lance Criminal home, Christmas fast approaching, and Better Half preparing too move to D.C, this is NOT a good time for me to have another bout of fibro-fatigue. Maybe I'll call the doctor to see about upping the Cymbalta and getting a scrip for Ambien. I haven't needed it for a couple of years, but realistically, this is probably a bad time to try to skate by. Why do I always second guess myself when it comes to being proactive on my own behalf?