Friday, August 2, 2013

Nothing to See Here

My dear sweet husband tells me I'm not blogging enough. It's hard, though, to compete with his stories from Baghdad. He's taken to writing home every Friday (and by "home," I mean that he's writing to me, along with my parents, in-laws, brothers, sisters and a select few others).

I can't compete with his stories, truly I can't. My life seems downright boring in comparison. If only I could copy-and-paste some of his stories, but alas - I've been sworn to secrecy.

I can tell you that he isn't exactly loving it there. The job is interesting, of course, and he has great respect for his DS colleagues and others on the ground there. But I think - if I can speak for him here - that he really just misses his family, even more than he thought he would.

It's nice that we're in the same time zone, because we can talk after work, at bedtime. But the problem is, he's sitting in his little apartment, bemoaning the fact that he's lonely, that he misses me and the kids, that it's just eerily quiet over there.

I want to be sympathetic, I do. But it's bedtime here, and there are teeth to brush and jammies to find and books to read and get back in your bed right now and all I can think is, these kids are driving me up the wall, or maybe what I wouldn't give for some boring alone time in another country somewhere.

So I guess you could say we are at opposite ends of the same problem. Who has it worse? He does, definitely. But it isn't always easy to remember that in the moment, when there are four kids clamoring for a piece of mommy.

Work carries on. Except for this Sunday, when the Embassy will be closed. I have other plans for Sunday, anyway. Big plans. I'll tell you about them some other time, though. For now: I'm off to bed.

Lame update, I know. But better than nothing, right, oh husband of mine?

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Please. Write your own stuff.