So I'm up at 1:00 with Chase.
2:00 am with Brody... and he's singing... What?
FloRida. Yeah, because I'm like... the best mom ever. Hey, we like to jam out in the car, and plus, I like to think it's really this version he's going for:
So I put him back to bed, and I go back to sleep myself. You know, for about another hour or so, until he's kicking the wall rhythmically in time with some Good Charlotte. He's moved onto Dance Floor Anthem.
So basically, now I'm all:
I'm up another two times in the next hour, and all I'm thinking is:
So back to bed he goes, again, and again, until all the kids are up around 5:30 and fighting before I can even get the coffee on. And I'm thinking... This is too freaking early.
Where usually the house runs on a strict schedule, I'm up 2 hours early, vacuuming up an entire box of lucky charms off the kitchen floor, thinking:
Basically I'm sleep-deprived and slightly insane, just to put you into reference. Now here's the delightful part: Jason was able to leave JRTC a day early.
And he says... "I should be home Thursday...."
So Thursday comes, and there's weather... and he's all... "I'll be home Friday..." One more day isn't so bad, so now I'm all....
Well, Friday comes, and YUP... more bad weather, so he says, "I should be home tomorrow," and now I'm all:
When really, what I'm thinking, is "Hey, HONEY, you've been gone almost four weeks, so could you get home because... well..."
So here is where it gets Messy. Like disastrously messy. I ask the boys to clean up their rooms because their dad will be home next week, and Aaron replies, "Sometimes, I don't even miss Dad. I mean, he's never here, so it's kind of like this is the normal. Everything else is weird."
Oh. My. Holy. Heartbreak.
So why put this in here? Why, when this month, this JRTC Journal Project, is supposed to be a funny look at our life?
Because our life isn't always funny, and there's no way to make it that way.
And I know it's not right. I know Jason has no say in what he's doing or when he's doing it, but just for once, I want to say to Jason:
So I tell Jason, because we've always agreed that 100% honest is the way to go. And yes, he's devastated. But then, trying to make Aaron feel better, he breaks our cardinal rule. He's talking to Aaron on the phone, and I can hear what's coming. Even though Jason can't see me, I'm basically like:
But like I said, he can't see me, and tells Aaron that he's trying to get home Tomorrow.
And I get it, I know Jason wants to make Aaron feel better, and let him know that he's trying his hardest to get back to him. Why is this our cardinal rule? Because you can't depend on the Army. We've learned not to tell the kids he's coming until he's in the bleepity-bleep-bleep-bleep driveway. So when he says, "I think we can make it tomorrow," (Friday), I'm just like:
But the problem is: Now our little boy thinks it will happen.
So Friday... Oh Friday. Friday, amazing things start happening for me with writing, and he's not here. He's not here to celebrate with me. And I realize, that in the last few years, I've graduated college, bought a house, moved into the house, dealt with a brain-tumor scare with Brody... and I've been alone. And I have a slight breakdown on my friend, The Mad-Painter. I know I'm not the first woman to do these things, and I realize how whiny it sounds, but while in the throes of it, well, it feels freaking awful.
And then Jason tells me he can't make it home today... maybe tomorrow. And then I'm all:
And usually, I'm pretty strong, and capable, and self-sufficient. But just this time, I break down into tears, and all I'm saying to Jason is basically:
But then, I have to tell Aaron he won't make today, and I'm kinda:
But I man-up and do it... and what does our precious almost-ten-year-old say? "God, I hate him... I mean, this. I hate THIS."
And now Mama is looking like this:
And Deeeeeeeep inside, she's thinking This:
But what do we do? We're military wives, so we hug our kids, and tell them we understand. We tell them that it's okay to be angry, which it is. Why? Because they're tiny humans, and they deserve to have those emotions validated.
It's Saturday, and did he make it home???
And though he's only been gone four weeks, this close to deployment it feels like a year...
Tomorrow is Sunday, and maybe he'll make it home, and maybe he won't. But I'm going to wake up and say:
I'm going to kiss my kids, and I'm going to hope for the best. Because he's missing a major life event for me right now, and I desperately need to believe that he'll be here soon. Why? Because I have:
Because sometimes, that hope is all we have when nothing is in our control, and hope is what keeps us holding on.
And because of that, we both tell the kids seven more years. Seven more years and he will be retired. No more deployments or TDY's.... No more waiting.
And as usual, he'll be home any day now... and then I plan on sleeping, because Mama's caught the cold she's been tending on the boys.