Wednesday, March 14, 2007

It's official, I am a Fobbit

Well, I have been pretty busy lately getting things ready to move into our new offices. A lot of work going on and most of it is severely unappreciated. I have a couple bosses that all believe they are the most important boss and it makes my job unpleasant and frustrating. I complain about it a lot to the other fobbits that I work with because they have the same issues, but I try to be very mindful of who is close. When I compare my problems, though significant to me at the moment, they pale in comparison to the guys on the guns. I feel ashamed at times when I am upset and ranting about crap that happened today when I am talking to a guy that had to replace two windows in his vehicle because they were shot out in a gun fight the night before!

I did get the chance to talk to my kids the other night and it never matters what's going on in my life, they are always uplifting. The woman renting my house moved out so I let them know that we would get to stay in our house when they come to visit this summer. My daughter was so excited. She reminded me of last summer when we bought a go-cart and she wished she could ride it, but it was broke. She was so happy to hear that Uncle Hank and Grandpa Gary fixed it the other day and she can ride it this summer. Then she started a long, refreshing "Remember when we?" dialog and we both laughed and laughed.

My son was quite the delight as well. He got on the phone with a resounding "Daddy, guess what? ... I'm playing with my imagination and I am sleeping in a box 'cause it's my bed!!!" Anyone that knows my son could just see the smile on his face that goes from ear to ear when he is so excited. His eye brows arch up and his eyes sparkle. He was so ecstatic I couldn't help but laugh with him. I told him about staying in our house this summer and taking the boat out to go fishing every day. He chimed up and let me know that he went fishing earlier because his box used to be a boat!

All my problems and worries of this place just disappeared. None of it seems to matter after talking to my kiddos. I sometimes complain about the mile I have to walk at bedtime to call them, but you'll never hear me complain about talking to the ones I love.

By the way, a fobbit is a nickname the guys on the guns give those of us who stay "behind the wire". We live in a FOB (Forward Operating Base) pronounced Fob.