As many of you know (especially if you follow me on Facebook), I recently returned from a twelve day whirlwind tour of Europe with my husband. It was truly amazing, and I will absolutely inundate your timelines, twitter and RSS feeds with posts on the adventures we had while there. But today, I want to talk about coming home.
My friend Kelly put it perfectly: re-entry is hard. I went from zero responsibilities but me for almost two weeks, back to the reality of having two boys under five. While I never forgot I was a mom, I quickly forgot what it was like to have your life completely dominated by two small dictators. Castro and Hitler have nothing on Benji and Jameson when they are hungry.
I also quickly forgot the daily grind that is, well, life. I came home to missed deadlines and overdue projects for work, all courtesy of a lightning strike the night before I left which wiped out my computer and internet. That same lightning strike fried the sprinkler system, which is still in the process of being replaced. The fried sprinkler system left my landscaping unwatered, which killed about a third of my three-month old plants. My lawn guys have been MIA this month, so I have a massively neglected lawn and no one to mow it. Benji needs to go to the dentist. I need to go to the orthodontist. Dishes. Laundry. Homework. Jet-lag. I’ve been home five days and I still haven’t unpacked. Ugh.
Another friend commented on Facebook that I wouldn’t get much sympathy, given the trip I’d just come home from. Granted, my trip was awesome. But I came home from that trip with more than souvenirs and an over-extended credit line. While there, Jason gave me the news that his homecoming was at least six to nine months away — and that timeframe isn’t even taking into consideration what may happen in Syria. Prior to Europe I’d been holding onto the desperate hope he’d be home for Christmas. Barring a military miracle (and I’m talking total troop removal here), there is no way that is happening.
No Daddy for Halloween, I’d expected. No Daddy for my birthday, Thanksgiving, Benji’s birthday – I knew these were all almost definite. But no Daddy for Christmas was something I hadn’t even really allowed my mind to consider. And now it isn’t just no Daddy for the holidays, it’s no Daddy for as long as he’s already been gone.
We haven’t even reached the halfway point.
This is what I’m dealing with now. I’m trying so hard to process the fact that it isn’t even halfway over, when it has already seemed like forever. I’m struggling to not sink into a depression as I consider three more seasons with my partner gone. The fantastic trip I just came from seems like a dream — a beautiful, hyper-realistic dream — that I’ve been woken from. I should be in post-vacation bliss, instead I’m wallowing in harsh military-life reality.
I know we’ll survive. Heck, I know we will thrive. As yet another friend Trish said, God will carry us and our friends will help us. He will. They will.
We are almost to the halfway point.
There. I feel better already.