Two worlds and a second mortgage.

Life has worked out pretty well for us, in the years since Seth's days as an ODA commander were brought to an unexpected halt. We've built a life and a family one piece at a time, and we couldn't be happier with it. We've embraced this time that we've both had away from deployments and field training and late night jumps and early morning formations. We haven't gotten complacent, and we're anxious to get back to the Army grind eventually, but the time away has been good to us. I think the big tough guy really enjoys getting to spend time with his daughter and be "daycare Dad"... and I know the grad school schedule doesn't hurt his feelings, with time for golf outings and three hour workouts.

But every once in awhile something happens to remind me that this is really not what my husband wants to be doing. As much as I know he loves the family time, I am acutely aware that there's nothing he'd rather be doing than killing terrorists. His former weapons sergeant and good friend, who got blown up when Seth did in 2012, was shot in this attack last week. He's at Walter Reed in intensive care now, and I know that's hard on Seth. (As well as a reminder that there's still a war going on out there, everybody in the Starbucks line in the Pentagon food court.)

But Finley's teething and damn near walking, and the yardwork still needs done, and Seth had orientation in preparation for "back to school" to deal with and books to buy (seriously, I feel bad for him- what a juxtaposition of worlds to struggle with!) Plus, we had decided it was time for a new bed. So Saturday it was off to the mall.

Finley loved lululemon, incidentally,

 almost as much as she loved the fruit plate at Crave at lunch (this is her eating an orange wedge like a pro!)

And bed testing is her new favorite activity.

We eventually settled on an (absurdly expensive) sleep number that- no joke- lets you separately raise and lower each half's head and feet, and actually has a massage function. We are going to be eating ramen for years (and so much for the housecleaning service budget), but Seth swears it will solve all of his sleep problems and make him feel like a million bucks.

Besides, Finley really liked the massage.

Although she also loves the hammock, so I don't know how reliable a sleep-surface judge she is.

The rest of our weekend went by in a blur, since we spent most of it immersed in fall cleaning. (By which I mean, I took a ton of old clothes to the shelter and Seth hacked our bushes to bits with a hedgetrimmer. The plant carnage this morning was kind of terrifying.) We did discover that Finley likes penang chicken- the spicier the better- and bowling, and thinks that rolling down the stairs is fun (much to our horror.)

My favorite picture of the week is this one: how Seth and Finley shop.

Sleep wars and a roving bruncher.

There's a war going on in our house, and Finley is winning.

If victory is measured in the dark undereye circles sported by one's adversaries, that is.

The war involves sleeping alone- or rather, Finley's recent aversion to doing so- and has cost me many, many hours of sleep. This latest charming phase has her sleeping until about 3:30 am, and then screaming bloody murder and throwing herself against the bars of her crib when she wakes up and realizes that she is alone. She's stubborn, so this goes on for extended periods of time. I refuse to let her out of her room, but I also think it's cruel to let her scream for hours. So the result is that I have to go sit with her in her room until she falls back asleep.

I think Seth thought this was all kind of amusing until I made him take his turn in the wee hours of this morning, when I finally tapped out. And this is what I discovered when I went to check on them an hour later, on my way out the door. (He's going to kill me for sharing this picture, but it is amazing.)

I think we'll call this one a draw.

We had a pretty nice week, otherwise. Seth is getting ready to start school again, which apparently means golfing while he still can. He says it's going to be a busy semester. I continue to do absolutely nothing exciting or interesting at work, but remain grateful for my shortened commute and morning runs along the river.

And Finley enjoyed date night at Clyde's, where she behaved like a psychopath, banging plates on the table and waving silverware around and leering at fellow diners and sticking both hands in the appetizer plate.

We had apparently blocked this from our memories by Saturday, when we took her to brunch with the Alexanders at an adorable place in Fed Hill (Baltimore). There she helped herself to everyone's plates- she particularly enjoyed Seth's salmon and capers- before working off the calories by continually escaping and crawling laps around the café. We kept discovering her under the tables of other diners, apparently begging for scraps. Thankfully, the place was both kid-friendly and incredibly clean.

Sunday I took her to the pool while Seth golfed, where she was overcome with delight at finally being able to stand up in the wading pool but still loved crawling around in the fountains best. 

We hung out with Ana & Ata while they packed (Finley is not much help with moving) and convinced Ana to take a commissary break, during which she sabotaged me and let Finley hold a box of pop tarts. (Rest assured, they were eventually wrenched from her angry fists and returned to the shelf.)

And before we knew it, it was Monday again. Just another week for us, although I'm reeling from the shock that Mom & Dad are actually moving. (Now that I've seen it with my own eyes.)

The photo of the week is obviously the one at top, but this one's a close runner-up.

Oh and also this one, of Finley learning to eat with her own hands. For some reason, she's not satisfied unless she's squeezing the life out of her food with both fists. The scrambled egg carnage was unspeakable.

Finley gets her groove back.

When I throw together a blog post, I usually upload the pictures using the wireless at home and then squeeze in a few minutes on a lunch break to pen my undoubtedly-less-clever-than-I-had-hoped thoughts. Sometimes this process leads to a little perspective-shifting. Today, for example, I had intended to note that it was incredibly hard to get back into a normal routine after a terrific week of Walters Family Chaos. Also that we were experiencing some post-vacation blues, and missing the fam (especially the Bustamantes, who suddenly seem really far away even though they are technically closer than they were in Hawaii.)

Then I looked at the pictures I'd uploaded and realized that at least one of us had had a terrific week.

That would be the tiny and spoiled attention hog, who does not seem all that sad to have Ana & Ata and Mom & Dad all to herself again.

Finley's week included date night at Fat Pete's in Cleveland Park (we're branching out), where she devoured three kinds of meat and thrilled her carnivore Dad (and health nut Mom) by turning down mac & cheese in favor of smoked turkey.

She also graduated to big-girl baths, turning every evening into a drenched-bathroom swimming adventure.

Finley got to spend Friday night with Ana & Ata while Seth and I enjoyed a rare and wonderful Finley-free double date night. Michelle had been in charge of tickets, and gotten us awesome floor seats to see the Avett Brothers and the Zac Brown Band at Nats Park. We laughed and sang and danced and drank beer like people whose evenings didn't generally revolve around diaper rash remedies and keeping baby food off the ceiling. There was a small communications SNAFU that resulted in my retiring for the night to my own bed with a dead phone while Seth wound up at my parents' house- causing an unplanned slumber party at 2am- but it eventually resolved itself and Mom & Dad are still speaking to us. So the evening was a success by most measures.

The late night did not do much for Seth's throwing performance the next day (scheduling fail on my part), but Finley still had fun cheering for her Dad.

And celebrated by helping herself to the coconut shrimp appetizer at lunch after the meet.

Sunday she got to go swimming and to the fair, which was blazing hot but a great time. Although despite the princess' best efforts, we did not purchase a John Deere.

Two favorites this week:

Finley, all worn out from birdwatching. I love that you can see Mom & Dad, with binocs up, in the background.

And checking out the livestock barns at the fair. Finley's still a little small for farm animals, but got a kick out of the pigs snarling at one another. Naturally.

Retirement, goodbyes, and the whole fam in one place... what a week!

The sun streamed in through the big glass door to the back deck when I woke up, and I could see that beer bottles still littered the wrought iron patio furniture. A sock belonging to one of the kids sat on top of the grill, along with a watermelon rind. Seth snored in the la-z-boy chair, and Finley yawned and stretched out on the air mattress next to me in the sun room. I could hear little feet on the stairs and shrieks of what was hopefully laughter, and the smell of cinnamon rolls wafted in from the kitchen. I had a little bit of a headache and was in desperate need of coffee.

Mom and Dad throw a hell of a party.

The whole family had converged on Washington, DC to celebrate Dad's retirement and bid farewell to the Bustamantes and the New Mexico Walters. Dad had retirement without pomp or circumstance the week before, after 32 years of service. Sara and Daniel and Lehua had shoved all their wordly possessions into six very heavy suitcases and departed Hawaii en route to their new life in Peru. And Ben had just graduated the F-16 course and was due to move with his family to Misawa, Japan for who knew how long.

There was an awful lot of change afoot. We couldn't refrain completely from wondering how long it would be before we were all together again, and emotions ran high. Thankfully, the first-ever meeting of the four "legacy children" helped to lighten the mood (biting and pacifier-stealing incidents notwithstanding) and the Walters family always knows how to have a good time.

It was an idyllic week, if- as per usual- exhausting. We made the traditional pilgrimage to the monuments and the Billy Goat Trail. We gorged on Mom's pizza and biscuits and manicotti and strawberry pie. We took the kids to the playground and the zoo and the Splash Park, and enjoyed it as much as they did. Missy and Seth went fishing and managed to keep their phones out of the river. The Walters kids all hiked Old Rag. And we threw a blowout retirement party for Dad complete with tears (thanks to Missy's hard work on an incredibly nostalgic slide show, the presentation of a peace pole, and a whole lot of toasting.)

Then, just like that, it was over. Mom and Dad and I stood in their driveway, waving at the Bustamantes- the last to depart- and trying to pretend it was just a normal Sunday. I went home to do truckloads of laundry. I think they may have taken a nap. We all tried not to think about how quiet it suddenly seemed.

And cheered ourselves with the notion that we would have another whole-family reunion someday. Probably around the time we all recovered from this one. 

In postscript notes, the New Mexico Walters all made it home and are still vacuuming husky fur off of all the surfaces in their house. And the Bustamantes and most of their luggage made it to Lima!

We took a million pictures, and some of them are here and here. The backyard photo shoot was hilarious and crazy, and yielded a keeper or two. (Adorable matching outfits are courtesy of Lisa. Obviously.)