Promotion, NOT graduation.

Today Boychik had a “promotion ceremony.”  If they had called it a graduation, I would’ve punched someone in the throat.  Why?

Well, I’ve always had it explained to me that to graduate is to FINISH a course of study or receive a diploma.  Kindergarten isn’t finishing a course of study.  Neither is fifth grade or eighth grade.  The “diplomas” that these graduates receive and 3 bucks will get you a Café-Mocha-Vodka-Valium Latte.  In other words, they’re less useful than a high school or Associate’s degree, particularly in our present economy.

In other news, yesterday was his birthday.  He got a gold power ranger from me, and a bear in fatigues from his teachers.  He picked out pizza and cupcakes for his supper.  And he told me “I miss my daddy.”  During his melt-down today he told me the same thing at least twice.  But I held on, I didn’t cry; even though I really wanted to.

 

The hubs has stated that he will have orders and be in the states in two weeks.  Again, I will believe it when I see it.  He’s also told me not to get my hopes up about joining him before he is discharged.  Um…  DUH?  Why would the military do something so kind and compassionate for a family that’s been forcibly separated as long as ours has?  Silly D, why on earth would the military allow you to be a part of your children’s lives again when they can just send you back to a state half-way across the country from your wife and children?  I mean really, how will the airlines survive without us having to pay for a plane ticket every time you want to see your kids?  Sure, it’s not going to be the $1500 we’ve paid every year for the past 3, but it’s still SOMETHING for those poor broke airline owners to take from us.

 

Yeah, I’m still angry.  Angry that D’s got no guarantee that we can be with him.  Angry that the command he’s under pretty much stole him from his children for three years.  I’m angry that I cannot fix this situation without breaking the lease and paying for a moving service that I can’t afford.  Mostly, I’m angry at the apathy of his NCO’s and the fact that the solution they gave him was to drink and try to socialize at a bar since he was in Europe alone.  Missile, I am so thankful to you and your family for taking in D and keeping him from drinking himself to death.  And I’m mad as hell at D’s branch.  Mad enough that I wouldn’t piss on them if they were on fire.