The difficult life of an army wife, part two

Ryan has been home less than a week and I have already failed as a military wife. My previous attempts to be a good army wife have been less than stellar, but I figured once Ryan returned from Iraq things would get better. I have been trying so hard to make his transition from the battlefield to the home front as seamless as possible. I stocked my cupboards with his favourite foods (read: chips, candy and other JUNK!). I've been letting him sleep as long as he wants to (read: ALL morning!). I have not said anything about his stuff being all over the house as he tries to organize it (read: at one point I couldn't even walk through my living room!). And being the good wife I am, I insisted that all of his clothing that was with him in the desert be washed. After spending 90 minutes at the laundromat and doing 7 loads of laundry, I was feeling pretty good about being such a kind and thoughtful wife. This would be a good time to point out that Ryan was with me at the laundromat and that he put himself in charge of folding all of his army related clothing. (Keep this in mind as you continue to read. This one fact is very important!) Several hours later, Ryan was getting his things together for work. He asked me (his wonderful amazing totally awesome wife) where I had put his Physical Training (PT) shirts when I put the laundry away. After thinking for a couple seconds, I told him I didn't put any PT shirts away. He insisted that he had given me the PT shirts to wash, I insisted that I could not remember sorting, washing or folding the grey PT shirts. Ryan, being the amazing husband he is, kept saying "I am not blaming you for anything." (and of course, I was thinking "You can't blame me! I never saw them!") We started searching the house, trying to find the shirts. I even searched through the garbage bag in the kitchen. It had potato peelings, onion skins and watermelon rinds (disgusting!), but no shirts. (Ryan supposedly searched the trash bag outside, but I have my doubts. However he came up empty handed as well.) Eventually, Ryan decided to go back to the laundromat to see if we left any clothes there. He left and I sat down to watch TV, convinced that where ever the shirts were, it was all Ryan's doing. After all, he was the one who "supposedly" gave me the shirts to sort with the laundry; the one who "supposedly" folded all his army clothes at the laundromat. I could not remember the shirts. And besides, a good wife would remember the clothes that she had laundered. This was clearly Ryan's misplacement problem. The trip to the laundromat turned up nothing and Ryan returned home, resigned to the fact that he would have to purchase new PT shirts. After his return, he continued to gather things up for work. He asked me where his army socks were. All of a sudden I was hit with a sinking feeling. PT shirts? I had no recollection of sorting or washing PT shirts. But socks? I remembered socks. Lots and lots of socks. It was at that point I had one of those flashbacks that you see on TV all the time: me putting the socks in the laundry basket; me putting the socks in the washing machine; me putting the socks in the dryer. And that was where the flashback ended. That was also when I realized I had misplaced a load of laundry! (ok, in all fairness I should say "WE" misplaced a load of laundry, since Ryan was at the laundromat with me). Yes, me, the wonderful amazing thoughtful wife. This was my first time washing anything army related and I had left some clothes behind! Ryan watched as realization dawned on my face, and I am pretty sure he knew that I knew he was right. So, back to the laundromat we went. Yep. Back to the laundromat. The one that Ryan had just returned from less than 30 minutes before, claiming that none of our clothes were there. One of the workers was emptying out a dryer full of PT shirts and army socks as we walked in. Ryan stopped her, saying "I think those are our clothes". Her response "I was just putting them in the back. They have been here all day". No kidding! I had left them there all day! I apologized to Ryan for leaving his clothes, but made it clear that I was not taking full responsibility because he was just as capable of making sure we had all the laundry before we went home! He laughed and said "You have to write a blog about this". Later as I was folding the PT shirts, I still could not remember ever having them at the laundromat! If Ryan hadn't asked about the socks, I never would have realized that I had left the clothes. I guess I can chalk this up to a learning experience: Lesson 1: Make sure you have all the laundry before you leave the laundromat! Lesson 2: Letting a husband help with laundry is a bad idea, because if something goes wrong, he will blame you even though he was right there with you; Lesson 3: Sometimes, (but rarely) a husband knows what he is talking about!