Today I pulled the boys out of school early. I rarely, RARELY do that. I promise.
But the boat came in today. And it might be the last time the boys have a chance to see Andy come up top on the bridge. So I took them to the point at Hickam to see the boat come home. The boys waved, ran along the grass, shouted across the water to their waving daddy. I walked along with Em in the Bjorn carrier. Pacing myself. Trying to fight the urge to let my mind run as fast as the boys, wild with planning the next X number of days.
My military friends can relate perfectly, they have lived it. Sometimes they are my sisters in deployment, other times they are my shoulders and feet and hands helping get through while their loved ones are home, and other times I am that person for them. However it works out, if I posed the following question to any one of them they could answer based on experience. It's a unique and lovely and a little bit awful thing.
The question: if you knew you only had X number of days before your loved one was gone for X months what would you fill your days with?
Would you pack your days with going places and doing things and staying up late?
Would you go about life as usual? School days and homework, grocery store and laundry?
Would you struggle to find the balance between the extremes?
It was so hard today, and will continue to be hard, to not plan, plan, plan and try to pack the X days with as much as we can and never sleep and cook all his favorites and keep the boys with us and ignore everyone and everything else in the world except our.little.family. It is so hard to have that constant countdown in my head...days and hours and sleeps and duty nights...until we stand at the point again, waving goodbye. It is hard not to get overwhelmed with the sadness thinking about the X months without. Separated. Hard not to let the bitter over take the sweet of these coming days.
It isn't a matter of being nervous of my ability to handle the deployment. I have an awesome support system with my island ohana, my brother in law, a bunch of friends both Navy and civilian across the world, and a family back home that is beyond measure of awesomeness.
I am just going to miss the crap out of my husband. And I know the boys are going to miss their daddy beyond what their little hearts can convey. So I want the next X days to be full of memories. Good ones. Enough to last the time he is gone. Enough fun and togetherness to patch through major holidays. Enough love felt and hugged and cuddled to keep us from sadness.
I know that's not possible. I know there will be lonely and sad moments. For me and for the boys. I know I cannot pack enough in to keep all that away.
So I am trying to keep the pace my family sets. To go with the flow.
I won't pull the boys out of school or let them slack on their homework.
I won't neglect my job.
I will keep my children and self in clean clothing.
I will enjoy the moments. And try my best not to be sad.
I will fill the X days we have together with as many smiles and laughs and good as I can without stressing and forgetting to sleep.
And when we wave goodbye, I will run along with my kiddos, and shout across the water, and start counting down again.
But the boat came in today. And it might be the last time the boys have a chance to see Andy come up top on the bridge. So I took them to the point at Hickam to see the boat come home. The boys waved, ran along the grass, shouted across the water to their waving daddy. I walked along with Em in the Bjorn carrier. Pacing myself. Trying to fight the urge to let my mind run as fast as the boys, wild with planning the next X number of days.
My military friends can relate perfectly, they have lived it. Sometimes they are my sisters in deployment, other times they are my shoulders and feet and hands helping get through while their loved ones are home, and other times I am that person for them. However it works out, if I posed the following question to any one of them they could answer based on experience. It's a unique and lovely and a little bit awful thing.
The question: if you knew you only had X number of days before your loved one was gone for X months what would you fill your days with?
Would you pack your days with going places and doing things and staying up late?
Would you go about life as usual? School days and homework, grocery store and laundry?
Would you struggle to find the balance between the extremes?
It was so hard today, and will continue to be hard, to not plan, plan, plan and try to pack the X days with as much as we can and never sleep and cook all his favorites and keep the boys with us and ignore everyone and everything else in the world except our.little.family. It is so hard to have that constant countdown in my head...days and hours and sleeps and duty nights...until we stand at the point again, waving goodbye. It is hard not to get overwhelmed with the sadness thinking about the X months without. Separated. Hard not to let the bitter over take the sweet of these coming days.
It isn't a matter of being nervous of my ability to handle the deployment. I have an awesome support system with my island ohana, my brother in law, a bunch of friends both Navy and civilian across the world, and a family back home that is beyond measure of awesomeness.
I am just going to miss the crap out of my husband. And I know the boys are going to miss their daddy beyond what their little hearts can convey. So I want the next X days to be full of memories. Good ones. Enough to last the time he is gone. Enough fun and togetherness to patch through major holidays. Enough love felt and hugged and cuddled to keep us from sadness.
I know that's not possible. I know there will be lonely and sad moments. For me and for the boys. I know I cannot pack enough in to keep all that away.
So I am trying to keep the pace my family sets. To go with the flow.
I won't pull the boys out of school or let them slack on their homework.
I won't neglect my job.
I will keep my children and self in clean clothing.
I will enjoy the moments. And try my best not to be sad.
I will fill the X days we have together with as many smiles and laughs and good as I can without stressing and forgetting to sleep.
And when we wave goodbye, I will run along with my kiddos, and shout across the water, and start counting down again.
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