I don't know why I enjoy setting myself up for cruddy days. Does the cruddy part come first so I go with it, or do I subconsciously feel it coming so I start acting cruddily, (yes, it's a word) thus perpetuating the cruddiness?
Today started off a great morning: my strawberry plant is growing, sunshine was warming through my blinds, my english muffin toasted up extra crispy, and I finished knitting a frog hat for E. Great day for success, I thought. I then went to Bible study and anticipated Phil calling so I had my phone on vibrate literally touching my leg so I wouldn't miss it. [Side note: it's funny how when your spouse is deployed, all social etiquette goes out the window. If someone had her phone on her like that during a Bible study, I would be thinking all sort of judgmental thoughts. Now when I excuse myself and whisper, "Sorry my husband from Afghanistan" everyone nods and murmurs their approval.]
To continue.
During prayer at the end (I know I know and I'm sorry!), I checked the screen and sure enough, 1 missed call and 1 voicemail. Really? How did that happen? I ducked out afterward and found out he was online even though I wouldn't be home for another hour. I decided to save face for about an extra half hour - because how rude would I look if I just left?? - then I booked it home. Thankfully he responded to my, "Are you still there??" and we got to talk for another hour and a half.
So this should be added to the Good Things to Happen Today column on my list, but it didn't. I loved talking to him and I'm so happy to know he's safe, but talking to him on certain days just makes my heart cringe up like a charlie horse. I share with him how busy I am, all the fun things I'm getting to do (setting up E's room!), and then as I'm smiling and typing, giant tears splash onto the keyboard.
Yesterday I had to move five giant tactical boxes in the baby room to other strategically hidden places in our apartment so E's room wouldn't look like a military training facility. These were heavy when I moved them way back in November, but now with a person sticking off my front and my ears constantly popping from heavy breathing, it took me an hour to scoot [at a snail's pace] these stupid black crates to closets. And of course, my budding paranoid mother side was screaming, "You shouldn't be doing this! Sit down! Call someone! E hates you right now!"
When I finished, I felt accomplished and proud to have done so much. But after talking to Phil today and telling him about it, I turned into a martyr..."oh what a hard life I lead, without a husband, having to do all of these life-threatening tasks without my burly man to do it." It's true to a degree: I do wish he was here and could see all of the soft, squishy and tiny things...and could have moved those boxes. I don't understand, however, how yesterday's high turned into today's crud.
Maybe I needed a good cry...maybe it's all a part of the daily "stuff" of deployment...but I don't like it. I hate that feeling of being able to cry all day. As I sat there talking with Phil on the computer, I realized yet again how frustrating it is to not be able to tell your best friend that you're sitting there weeping (he had no idea as I inserted lots of !! and smiley faces). It'd be one thing if he were at work, I called him crying to tell him about my crappy day, and know that he can say, "I'm sorry honey. When I come home tonight, we can talk more about it/I'll snuggle you/I'll make you dinner," all things he would say if he were here. But what can he do? Pray, write me a sweet email, call me the next day to check on me...yes...but not crawl into bed with me at night, kiss my cheek and tell me how he loves the baby room.
It sounds as though I'm writing this at the end of a long rough day and I will now sign off and go to bed, waking up to the blooming rhododendrons and possibly pancakes or some other carby deliciousness. Unfortunately, it's only 1pm. (A lot of emotions can happen in 5 hours!) So what now...
Well, I'll take out the trash and count that as my exercise along with the workout I had earlier when I moved the last 2 boxes...there's my 30 minutes. I'll wrap a cute baby gift for a friend with my best taping and folding skills. I'll start knitting another adorable hat (hope E likes hats), then make my way to a friend's house to bake, even though crawling into bed or watching a movie sounds more appealing.
This is normal life, and I whine a lot about it. It would probably be easier if I cut out the whining part and recognized it as normal life. Another thing with deployment: no one is bold enough to say to you, "Buck up. You're fine. Your husband is fine. Stop crying and make this day a good one, cruddy or not" because that would seem insensitive or somehow deployment gives you that right to be a pouty cry-baby. So since no one else will:
Al, buck up. This is life. Blow your nose and take out the recycle.
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