Monday, April 1, 2013

Well, And in Other News

My husband is back.

That's right. We made it through two whole months of training. Technically I guess he's the one who made it through the training, which he said was all kinds of interesting and difficult and apparently standing out in the elements for whole days at a time in an east coast winter is less-than-fun.

But he is back, and I managed to keep all four kids alive and reasonably fed most days and so what if they outgrew all of their clothes and I didn't replace them? That would have happened whether he was away or not.

Now we have two and a half months to get used to each other's daily routines again. He seems to have remembered that he is required to bring me a Starbucks mocha (full fat, iced, no whipped cream, please) on his way home from the gym on weekends. And then he needs to leave me alone while I drink it and do absolutely nothing involving his children, his laundry or his dog. So far, all is well. We'll see how long it lasts. Probably until he asks me if I remembered to organize the summer clothes, or alphabetize the spice rack, or file the taxes, or something else equally unnecessary, while he was away.

In two and a half months, though, the real fun begins. Every day we get more information about his onward assignment, and I ponder how exactly this is supposed to work. But we got through the first separation without too many issues. Sure, there was the time not long after he left when I got a notice from the mail room informing me that I had a package, and when I went to pick it up it turns out it was a 100-pound box of dog food. The mail room guy kindly said "you should wait until your husband comes back and let him take care of it," and I very nearly burst into tears. It had never occurred to me until that exact moment that I was destined to drag 100-pound boxes of dog food home, by myself, every single month until mid-2014. It was a startling revelation, and I did not handle it well.

My biceps will be powerful indeed at the end of this tour, because 100 pounds of dog food is heavier than it sounds when you're carting it through heavy security doors and down hallways and across the compound before somehow hoisting into the trunk of your car that dear god did someone back into me again and not leave a note? and then out of the trunk and up the stairs and all the way back into the laundry room, where you somehow shove that sucker in and slam the door with your foot before glaring balefully at the dog who, by the way, why in the world did your husband have to choose such a big dog anyway? What was wrong with a dainty little poodle or something else that doesn't consume 100 pounds of food every month in addition to a steady diet of Legos, board books and Barbie feet?

So anyway. He is back, and we are happy.

His dog, though. Seriously, what was he thinking?


Becca said... [Reply]

i'm glad he's back, but yeah the dog food thing sucks, and I'm sorry it will happen repeatedly. at least the cat doesn't eat much?

I'm looking at a lifetime of dog-food hauling (and all the other things that come with being suddenly a single parent) and in some ways its terrifying and in some ways it's liberating.

Please. Write your own stuff.