My husband is very mission oriented. Unfortunately, I am not the mission. Yet.
So when he called – finally – he explained that he just didn’t think of calling me. They were very very busy. If a plane had crashed it would have been on the news, so why was I worried? Like I can’t think of 1000 other tragedies that could befall him.
He has forgotten how upset he gets if I go missing. “Why didn’t you take your phone?” or “Why didn’t you answer your phone?” he’ll say. Once even: “Why do I pay for this phone if I can’t reach you when I want you?”
How did we function a mere 10 years ago without these modern conveniences?
He is expected to arrive at bedtime tonight. He will try to catch an earlier flight. Only Fritz knows, because Fritz is scheduled to play laser tag with his Scout troop tonight, so he had to choose. He chose laser tag over picking dad up at the airport. Good choice. The other kids will get one big Christmas surprise tonight. Katie asked me earlier, “Are we doing anything fun today?”
I should think so.
I’m sure he has a really really really good reason for not calling.
I can’t wait to find out what that might be.
I was running errands with Peter yesterday because I always run errands with Peter. It’s our “thing.” I asked him if he was going to come with me after Daddy came home, or if he would stay with Daddy.
“Stay with Daddy,” he said. Of course.
I will happily relinquish my crown as Most Favored Parent tomorrow.
While waiting for our turn at the gas pump, the song Feliz Navidad was on. I sang, because it’s a catchy song, and I tend to sing along to songs if I know the words. Sometimes even if I don’t.
When it ended, Peter asked me, “Did she die?”
I could not convince him it was Spanish for Merry Christmas. Nope, somebody is be-boppingly happy that Felice has died.
Cleaning out the medicine cabinet. Moving my stuff back to my side from where it has migrated over to his side. Refilling the Q-tip holder. Getting a new toothbrush out for him.
Hanging a towel for him on his rack.
Taking my tampons out of his sock drawer (tough to explain that one…exploratory toddler hadn’t found them there yet).
Moving my perfume to a more accessible location.
Checking his drawers and making sure I didn’t stash anything odd in there. Finding his favorite watch that he had just gotten repaired last June and didn’t want to take overseas. Putting it on his valet. Realizing I never took his summer clothes out when I see a full drawer of shorts. Moving them to a shelf in the closet.
Finding his slippers and putting them front and center.
Hanging new nightgowns near the front of my closet. Vowing to wear only impractical underwear for a week.
Debating what to wear to the airport. I’m sure I’ll change my mind several times in the next few days.
Noting the location of certain special pieces of jewelry. Putting on my wedding and engagement rings that I am out of the habit of wearing.
Putting away the projects cluttering my room. They can wait.
Everything can wait.
Would you drive an hour, late at night, to see your husband for a brief period only to tearfully say goodbye again (and drive home, even later at night)?
Or would you spend that time cleaning your house or baking cookies or blogging about how close he is, but you can’t see him, knowing that you’ll see him, for good, in another 40 hours?
Advice, please! If I’m going to see him on his layover, I need to arrange the babysitter!
It’s always nice to have your lousy poetry appreciated. I especially like it when someone makes up a category just so you can get recognition.
My haiku about children drinking behind their mother’s back wins for BEST TWISTED PARENT HUMOR. Isn’t that great?
The competition was fierce, and I highly recommend checking out the other haikus.
We did a lot of driving yesterday, and Mary was expressing her displeasure by screaming. When she finally said, “Purse! Purse!” I happily handed over my mostly empty bag thinking that since my wallet was not inside it, there was little damage she could do.
Peace descended on the van for about five minutes.
When Mary started to fuss, I assumed, correctly, that Jenny had taken something from her. I sighed inwardly and wondered: why? why does she always have to annoy her younger siblings? Before I had a chance to chastise her, though, she inquired, “Can Mary play with this?”
I glanced back to see Jenny dangling an unwrapped (clean) tampon by the string. Yeah, OK, NO. Thanks, Jenny.
Note to self: clean out car (there is a tampon wrapper in there at a minimum). Clean out purse.
At the family homeschool dinner, one mom asked me how much longer it was going to be – meaning this deployment. Intently, I stared at her and said, above the tremendous din of 50 rambunctious children, “Right now, my husband is supposed to be sitting at an airfield in Afghanistan waiting for a plane that will bring him home.”
Several other women smiled politely and said, “Great!” and “Wonderful!” One women, someone I don’t really know, seemed more enthusiastic than the others. I suspect that she is or was military. My friend, the one who asked the question, scrunched her face and fought hard to avoid crying, and I, seeing her empathy, scrunched my face and fought hard to avoid crying. We both failed, and she got up and came over to hug me.
And I knew. Here is someone who has thought about me often and prayed for me often and felt my pain and is rejoicing with me now that the end is near. Here is a true friend. Not in action – that wasn’t really practical in this particular instance, but that’s okay. She, like so many of you who read this blog, has supported me spiritually these long months. And I am grateful to her, and to all of you. Thank you. I have felt your love. I have felt your prayers. Even on the hardest of days, I have not felt alone or abandoned or hopeless.
If all goes well, Bill will be home in about a week. And then a new journey begins. Reunions are difficult, and this one comes with an interstate move and a new, challenging job for my husband. I am counting on your continued prayers, dear friends. For now, though, let’s just get this man home to me.
Laura loves bad poetry of the haiku variety. Enter her contest to win dubious accolades and bragging rights as bad poet.
Contest ends today. May the worst poet win.
Little Reindeer Girl
How your siblings tease
And torture you for giggles
Behind Mother’s Back
Aw! I’m tellin’ Mom!
She is gonna tan your hide!
Lemme have a sip…
(photo by Aunt Barb)
Yesterday’s purchases at the grocery store:
20 lb of flour
4 lb of confectioner’s sugar
4 lb of brown sugar
4 bags of mini chocolate chips
1 bag of white chocolate chips
1 package chocolate mint sandwich candies
1 package of unsweetened chocolate baking squares
1 bag of pecans
4 jars of mollasses
7 lb of butter
and 8 gallons of milk