Then you know how one day, you look up and say, "You know what? I am done. I am over it. Let's just end this now." Yeah. I had one of those days.
Nothing happened out of the ordinary. The kids were in good moods. We got lots done at school. I bought groceries. I cooked supper. The dogs were nice, and Fergus did not have one accident all day long (KNOCK ON WOOD). The kids did their homework without a fuss. Things were just fine. Normal. Above average, even.
We are doing OK. But then a wave comes over me - and I am just done.
Where in the heck is my husband??
Every deployment has those moments. Every military spouse has those moments during every deployment. The crazy thing is that you don't usually see them coming. There are those obvious times that you miss them. I can vividly remember holding a 2 year old Jessa at 2 AM after she threw up all over my bed, while 8 months pregnant with Spencer. I actually said outloud on the verge of tears, "Where is my husband?" No one answered. But I changed the sheets. Jessa was OK. I was OK. We survived, but it would have been awesome to have him there. Or perhaps the most obvious moment of all, the moment that I am laying in labor and delivery about to meet Spencer.
I am not talking about those times.
I am talking about the times when you are running into the PX to pick up a couple things around lunch time and you see nothing but couples meeting for lunch at the food court. And your heart actually hurts for a split second.
|Props for Spencer's photo bomb :)|
Or you are just walking out of the school building and you see a Daddy headed to the car holding the hands of his children. And you almost can't breathe.
Or those times when you can't decide what to cook for supper and the thought crosses your mind that today would be a perfect day to grill...
Or you are looking out the window and you see a family walking their dogs after supper. And you wish your family could do something as simple as take a walk. All together.
Now, even though I had a "moment," by the time I woke up the next morning, I was thrust back into the daily grind. I had my head down, powering through another day. Make lunches, pack snacks, fold clothes, drop off, pick up, feed dogs, clean out cat litter, take out the trash, cook supper, grocery shop, all the day to day "stuff."
And before I know it, the day is over.
I erase another day from our countdown board.
And I smile because we are one day closer to this actually being over.
And I then I smile even bigger because I realize that when David gets back he will be on my nerves within a week. The laundry will double. I will trip over boots in the middle of the night. He'll forget to tell me he'll be late. He'll be frustrated with me for not getting gas in the car until the light comes on. He'll sigh as I tell him a story that should take 5 minutes, but when I tell it, it takes 20. He'll toss and turn trying to go to sleep because I need the TV on for noise, but he wishes it was quiet.
But I will also get to enjoy watching him help Jessa with her homework or help Spencer with a computer game.
And we can take a walk after supper.
And then all will be right with our world.