Now we twitch between rushing around trying to do everything we meant to do across the last half year, and simply not caring and letting him come home to a messy, normal home. Part of me wants to do everything in advance of his coming home, so we can just lie around (and so he can be very impressed with me.) But, part of me just wants him to come home, and have him help do all this. *grin*
I feel a mix of emotions. I'm nervous about reintegration. I think we've stayed close, emotionally. I feel like we've stayed connected. We sure have tried. But, we still haven't lived together or done life together for ages. Little One has doubled in age, and many details from his world in particular have been veiled from us for months. I don't know if he's been shot at; I don't know if he's mentally different. I know he'll be jetlagged. I know he's psyched to come home and we can't wait to have him home. I know the euphoria will fade. I just don't know how things will settle after that.
Before Daughter was born, I felt similarly anxious. Change was coming; adjustment would have to happen - but I wasn't sure how to picture any of it.
And Husband wisely remarked, "It'll probably be like when we were first married."
"But, that was horrible!" I winced. "I don't want to do that again!"
"Well, ok - but basically our old normal may go away -- but, if we wait long enough, there will be a new normal... It will come. We just need to outlast the icky middle phase. And communicate along the way, and not take it personally if we or the other person doesn't feel what we expected."
So... since I haven't been able to talk to him much lately, this is my game plan. Lifted from our old game plan. Wish me luck.
Dear Husband: Thank you for always making time for me - even when you have to sacrifice sleep to do so. You are truly the best husband on earth. I miss you so, and can't wait 'til our talks aren't over the internet anymore XO. ~ Your Girl
WE HAVE A RETURN DATE.
And I cried. He told me late one night, when we were able to talk, and I couldn't sleep half the night.
He's coming home.
It's a thought I haven't really let myself think. It's been too crippling, too huge, to ever gaze at large portions of time.
Of course, he's always been "coming home someday" - but, I've been wary of counting days. Seems like it just slows time even more, when you do that. And my Little One has no appreciation of time; I mean, if there's even a 30 second delay between me suggesting that she drink/eat, and when the food actually appears, she comes unglued. So... we function in the short-term around here.
But now. He's coming home. And sooner than I'd braced for. Right on schedule. (When does that ever happen?!)
I totally used today's entire morning naptime/productivity window to order homecoming supplies. And I cried. And I stretched my arms and legs and toes and fingers obsessively, to try to ease the crazy, nervous excitement in my body.
And then, I started worrying that something would happen to him on his journey home. Heh. Naturally.
But, we still went to the Commissary and bought ingredients for pot roast. And suddenly became very, very productive.
Morale just rose, like, fifty points.
After working at it for several weeks, Rianna has figured out how to mimic the sound of the jets flying overhead; she gargles her own spit. It's a perfect imitation. So cute.
#thingsonlyaparentappreciates #lifeonbase #militarykid
