“March has been unlucky, huh Mom?” Bugsy says, as he walks into the living room. “Why do you say that, Bugs?”
“Cuz of the virus and the flood.” He’s referring to the wet basement we woke up to last week after a torrential rain. “But, I kinda like March so far”,  he shyly admit while looking down and lifting his eyes to see my reaction. “It feels different, and fun.” I smile and say, “yeah it has been fun. I’m glad you think so.”

In reality, I’ve experience intense anxiety these past couple weeks. Thoughts of doom. Heart palpitations that convince me I’m dying. Our current situation, as a nation, is depressing. Medically, politically, socially, financially. Now more than ever, it’s easy to take a deep dive into scary thoughts.

I find myself straddling two worlds. One foot is at the hospital, where I work. The new protocols for extra precaution, the eerie calm before the storm feeling that permeates everything. The fear of exposure.

The other foot is at home. Where I try to be some version of a happy camp counselor. Nature walks and crafts. Bike rides and science experiments. I don’t let Bugs and Boo see my worry, if I can help it. They are both so intuitive my feelings. Bugsy especially has the tendency to excessively worry and I don’t want to instill fear in him about this.  I feel like I don’t have a choice but to be positive right now, even though it’s not what comes naturally to me in times of fear.

It’s a scary time to have kids. Not just because I want them to stay healthy, but because times like these make me question our existence. Will they be able to have the same carefree childhood that we did? Or will this time, right now, alter who we are as humans? Probably both, I guess. Things will settle and get back to some kind of normal. When it’s over, we will gather again and enjoy pastimes that we’ve all realized are so special. I hope we all go to sporting events and parties with so much enthusiasm and joy. I hope that’s how our world changes…that we don’t take for granted how lucky we are to do the most basic of things, together.

Until then, you can find me drawing chalk rainbows on the side walk, pretending it’s all ok. Im so thankful to have my kids during this pandemic. Mark that down as something I thought I’d never say.

 

 

Of course the big day will be in August. We met (again) and fell in love in August. We’ve traveled and made so many great memories in August. If Boo would have been a boy, her name would have been Augustus. It’s my favorite month. The excitement and impending feeling of relief that this August will bring is palpable. There have been days that I literally did not think I was going to make it. Thanks, anxiety. But, we are in the homestretch. I count down in weeks instead of months now. We look forward to the mundane little moments, and are planning big vacations.

I’ve been looking back through pictures from the last year. The kids have grown immensely. Both several inches taller now. Their little baby faces have thinned out. We’ve all had birthdays. So many milestones have been reached. The completion of kindergarten for Bugsy. Potty training for Boo. Both of them so much more mature. I can’t wait to see his reaction to their changes, the ones that go unnoticed to me, because I’m lucky enough to see their sweet little faces every day. I can never bring back the year full of moments that he has missed. But the moment that we all will be physically reunited is what keeps me going. I envision it 20 times a day.

I’ve tackled the “his job” stuff and the “my job” stuff too. It has not been easy. The kids have seen me completely melt down more times than I’d like. Some days fly by, but some days crawl. I have a countdown on my phone. I think I looked at it on day 136 a million times. Day 136 was not a good day. There’s been incredibly exhausting, scary, frustrating days. Some days have been wonderful though too. I try to measure time not in days, but in events to look forward to and things to celebrate. Our son’s baseball games. The birth of our new niece.

I’ve managed things I thought would be impossible without him. I remember worrying about simple things like taking a walk around the block. Before Grant left, Boo was still in a stroller for our walks and the dog would pull our arm out of the socket as he yanked us down the street. Bugsy was still pretty unsteady on two wheels and we would jog to keep up with him. We would be sweating and cussing by the time we made it back home. Subtly though, somewhere in the passage of time this year, it got easier. The dog is a slightly better walker and both kids ride their bikes now. Bugsy is way out ahead and Boo Boo pumps her little legs hard trying to keep up. We are all a bit more confident and steady, a bit more self-sufficient.

I find myself looking back on this year and feel mostly grateful. Grateful that we’re all alive. Grateful that we’ve had a reminder so early in our marriage to not take one another for granted. Good Lord, I cannot wait to hug him. I cannot wait to watch him bond with our children again. To have a date to parties and weddings again. To have someone to talk to when I come home from a long day at work. I cannot wait to have another set of hands around the house. I cannot wait to have him take back “his jobs.” Turns out I’m not good at unclogging a drain. I cannot wait to have a full conversation with him without the phone cutting out every few seconds. I know he can’t wait for all of it too and also to not “feel like he’s in an oven with someone blowing a hair dryer full of sand in his face.” Poor guy.

If you see me soon and I seem aloof, I am. I’m dreaming of August.

A little while back I had a dream.  I was late for work; my mom and come over to watch the kids.  I ran out the door to find my car in the driveway with several huge dents and scrapes. I was so confused. I had not remembered getting into an accident the night before. My mom, always practical,  immediately started popping out the dents and smoothing out the dings saying, “this is fine,  you can still go to work.”  The back passenger door was so damaged that it wouldn’t close all the way.  I went around and cracked it open further to discover a family of cats  had made their home in my backseat. Suddenly several little orange kittens started jumping out of my car.  My sweet mama, standing behind me, started scooping up the cats without skipping a beat saying “this is fine, I’ll take care of the cats.”

Guys,  let me tell you. The dream took no interpreting.  This is a fairly accurate portrayl of the way my life had felt recently.  I woke up and laughed at the hilarity of how my brain interpreted my current chaos,  and then nervously went to the window to check my car… It seemed plausible that I may have wrecked on the way home the night before and not remembered.

Lately I’ve felt like I’m trying to drink from a firehose.  I haven’t blogged recently  because I’ve struggled with how to say “my life is on fire” without worrying people too much.  In all seriousness, I’ve been dealing with a pretty intense bout of anxiety.  I have overwhelming feelings that something bad is going to happen. I have physical symptoms that make me feel like I’m dying. I don’t sleep.  I worry and fret and stress.

I want to be honest here and say that even though this blog  has been filtered through the lens of Grant’s deployment,  my anxiety did not start, and isn’t because he is gone.  It certainly doesn’t help that he’s not here,  but anxiety is something that I’ve always had. I think it would be easy to blame my husband being gone as the reason for my anxiety, but I know it won’t magically go away when he returns.  It will creep back in stressful times. In the past, I haven’t been the greatest at identifying it, or frankly doing anything about it. This time around though, I’ve called it by its name. I’ve talked about it openly.  I’ve sought professional help for it. In a way, I’m grateful he’s been away.  It’s pushed me to rise to the occasion and be the best version of myself that I can be.  I have to be healthy and present for the tiny humans that depend on me. I have to be.

It’s an incredibly humbling experience to go through this personally.  Even though professionally I very often work with people with mental health disorders,  living it is a whole other thing.  I’m still in the thick of it. I definitely don’t have a handle on it as much as I’d like, but it feels good to be authentic about it.  To anyone reading this and identifying with it at all,  please know that you deserve to be the best version of you, too.  Take action with your mental health just like you would your physical health.

Lastly,  A quick shout out to my mama, who is always picking me up when I’m in pieces. Reassuring me both in real life and in my dreams, “this is fine, this is going to be fine.” Oh, and helping take care of my actual cats, and kids, and dog, and bird, and…

 

When Grant and I were in junior high,  we would sneak out and meet each other in a field  that connected my neighborhood to his.  I don’t even remember what we would do. It was so innocent.  We were just friends walking around the neighborhood or listening to music in his room.  It was before cell phones. Before drinking or smoking.  There was never even a kiss.  They were the best nights. I knew then, like I know now, that he has the kindest heart.  I’ve never had a friendship with a boy like I had with him, especially not in those awkward teen years.  His parents live in that neighborhood now,  and the tall grass still doesn’t grow in the place where the road ends and the field begins, where I would hop through to meet him. When I drive by and see that spot, I always think of the beginning of our friendship,  and the connection that was clearly there a long time ago.

Time is funny. Those junior high days seem like a lifetime ago.  Other things seem to fly by in the blink of an eye.  Parenting, of course is one of them. Bugsy is about to be six and I can hardly believe it .  The most surreal thing, I think, about children growing is when they get to the age that you have memories of being yourself,  and it doesn’t seem that long ago.  I clearly remember being six.  In a way, it adds even more pressure to the job of parenting. “Oh crap,  don’t mess him up now, he’s going to remember this“ HA! Honestly though, Bugs and Boo  are such an incredible little beings. Their capacity to feel, love, and understand makes me strive to be a better person. All that matters to me is that I do right by them. It’s truly amazing that in what feels like warped speed, they have gone from tiny babies to amazing humans with thoughts and feelings that seem to be much beyond their years.

When time seems to be dragging on, in regards to this deployment, I like to think about times that seem to have flown by. I guess in hopes that this time will fly by too. It isn’t working yet.  That saying about raising kids that goes “the days are long but the years are short”  is true for children. But so far, with Grant being away it seems like the days are fast but the year is still long. What I know is this: in our big long story that started way back in grade school,  this will be a tiny blip.  Someday when we’re old and wrinkled, when our kids are grown, we will look back on this time and marvel at how long ago it seems, and how fast it went by.

As expected,  it’s become our normal not to have Grant at home. It’s not a normal I want,  but it’s necessary.  I don’t think twice about going to bed without him.  I lock up the house and do the bedtime routine with the kids.  The pang of his physical presence not being there ebbs and flows.  Mostly though,  I operate in survival mode and just get through the day. Every day.  We talk about him a lot and thankfully we talk to him a lot, too.  Boo has adjusted to daddy not being home   and instead of crying for him now, she usually asks if we can call him or says “let’s tell daddy about this when we talk to him.”  It’s weird to think about all that’s happened in the last two and a half months since he left.  Sometimes it’s hard to remember whether he was home when a certain thing happened or not. When we talk I try desperately to catch him up on even the mundane stuff of life. I don’t want him to feel out of the loop and I need to spill all of my thoughts out to the person who gets it the most.  I’ve been frustrated with how slowly  time seems to be passing. Two and a half months is a long time,  but not in relation to the length of this deployment.  Even though I know we are getting closer to his return every day,  I feel like I’m in a dream, where I’m trying to run a marathon, but actually only running in place.

I try to be positive for the kids.  I try to remember that the kids are experiencing grief just like I am.  Bugsy has said many times “I wish the army was never invented.”  Which of course is his way of saying that he misses Grant, although he tries to act tough about it.  Some days I have the strength to talk with him about the armed forces and all the good they do. Sometimes all I can say is “me too.”   When Boo-boo is really tired or mad at me she says “I wannnttt myyy dadddyyyy.”  Sometimes I’m able to tell her how much her daddy wishes he could be with her, but sometimes I just say “I want him too”

This is our new normal. I’m trying to keep it together. But the truth is I miss him so much it hurts.

 

Its been a month. We are making it. The raw emotion of him leaving has faded. We have been able to talk and FaceTime regularly. The pressure is off, in a way. All the parties and special nights out, the mad scrambles to make memories, have all been checked off the calendar. Oh, the internal pressure I have to make memories. My mind was in over drive during those last few weeks, trying to fit in every last thing. Now it’s just “get through the days.”

A few weeks before he left, on a Saturday morning, I INSISTED we make a blanket fort the living room. You know the ones; old blankets hooked on bookshelves and held up by dining room chairs.  The kids were into it, for a minute. Boo kept belly flopping into the center of the blanket,  making the whole thing collapse, clearly not understanding the goal.  After a few minutes the kids ran into one of the bedrooms and started happily jumping on the bed.  So there Grant and I were, building a blanket fort.  It wasn’t going well and I got frustrated. Wasn’t it easy when we were kids? Anyway… after a few minutes I realized how ridiculous the situation was and aborted mission. Bless Grant‘s heart for not pointing it out sooner. As he pulled me into a big bear hug, he said “listen to them“.  They were giggling in the bedroom. “They’re happy.  You don’t have to plan fun.”  It’s just like him to calm me down and drop some wisdom in only a few words. I’m a planner. I have a hard time NOT having a plan.  Even on a lazy Saturday morning, I had a plan. That plan included a blanket fort, dammit! ….sigh.

I need him. I need him to talk me down when my head starts to spin, to help me not lose sight of what’s important.  I need him to bear hug me and make me listen for their giggles.  To swoop in when I’m.about.to.lose.it.  I’m trying to remember and exude his gentle calm in my moments of stress. A “what would Grant do?” if you will… Without him, I have to stop myself from planning  our days in hour by hour increments, and beating myself up about the kids having too much “screen time.”  I still love an adventure, and mamas have to plan. But I am embracing that there are also beautiful, happy times when we do nothing at all. Boy, do I wish he was here to do nothing with us now.

I had a second blog post written. One I planned on sharing right after he left. It was a story from a few weeks ago. A glimpse into our little family. I talked about how much I would miss him, but overall it was fairly sweet and light hearted.

I wrote that post before he left. Before the soul shattering morning in which he got on that bus and I cried harder than I’ve ever cried. I didn’t know then, when I wrote that blog, that I would still be shaken to my core days later. These is no way I could authentically share a light hearted story right now. I clearly underestimated what this would be like. I actually wrote “things are surprisingly the same” in that first blog, with anticipation that that would be true.

Nothing is the same. Before that morning I didn’t know that every day, just for a split second, when I open my eyes in the morning, I would forget he wasn’t there, and experience the grief over again as reality sets in and I blink back tears and roll out of bed.  I didn’t know just how many times Boo Boo would ask about and cry for her daddy during a day, making  my heart crumble into a million pieces over and over.  I didn’t know that silly cardboard cut out of him would literally make my heart skip a beat when I pass it the hallway.  I didn’t know how many times a day I would wish for time to pass quickly and dream about what we will do when he’s back. I think about how much the kids will change in between now and then and all the things he will miss. I think about how amazing it will feel when it’s all behind us and we’ve done it.  I wonder, will Boo ever stop asking about him? And if she does, does that mean she’s given up hope that he’s ever going to return?

I have a new level of respect for deployed soldiers and their loved ones. I’m not sure you can truly grasp that sacrifice until it’s you.  Standing there with MY husband. MY kid’s dad… was one of the most surreal and gut wrenching experiences of my life.  Watching a hundred other soldiers leave their families for a year sticks with you. It’s seared in my mind. Mamas leaving their babies. Husbands leaving their pregnant wives. My gosh it’s heavy. Really, really heavy.

Each day the raw emotion of that day fades a little more.  Normalness trickles back in. I’m thankful for the perspective this has put on life.  I find myself wanting to be more present with the kids and our families.  Not to take for granted one moment I get to spend with them while he doesn’t.  The three of us seem to already be forming a tighter bond. We talk about him a lot and all the things we love about our family. It seems the kids sense that we are all a little fragile right now. They play nicer, and share more. Boo has asked me a couple times “if I’m happy now”  which is incredibly precious but also likely means I have traumatized her with all my crying. Sigh. Bugsy carried in the groceries from the car last night “because that’s what the man does“

Oh, my heart.

5 days down.

 

As I sit to write my first blog entry, I’m not sure it’s my thing. Doubt creeps in and I wonder if I have anything meaningful to say. I’ve never had a thing, I guess. It’s bothered me through the years. I’m not particularly artistic. I’m surely not athletic. I’ve never stuck with a hobby. Even without a “thing” my life is full and beautiful. It’s all I’ve ever wanted and more. The past four years or so especially have been a blur of love and laughter that   I am so grateful for. I’ve  looked at my husband over the years several times and literally said “pinch me… Is this real?” We are so fortunate and happy.

That brings me to the original thought of this blog. My husband is deploying for the better part of a year very soon.  It seems like the feel good soundtrack that’s been playing in the background of our lives is on it’s last song.  The person who has brought me all the love and laughter is leaving for an unknown amount of time, but likely somewhere in the range of ten months. TEN MONTHS.  We have two small children. That amount of time is unfathomable from where I sit right now. Heck, sometimes even waiting for him to get off work and having a couple hours to go seems like a long time after a day with my Bugsy and Boo.  Imagining managing this crazy, sweet, hilarious chaos alone is something I’m still wrapping my mind around.

I know, I know. It’s not forever. There’s still so much to be thankful for. He IS  coming back. He WILL still support us, from afar. This isn’t death or divorce.  Our children are healthy.  We will still be able to communicate.  It will inevitably change us, though. We will all settle into new norms without one another. What will our two-year-old daddy’s girl think? How will our five-year-old son adjust to yet another change in his little life?  What will it be like when he returns?

I’ll have to flex muscles I don’t use much. I’ll have to take care of things I’ve been lucky enough to have a partner do until now.  I will have to learn to balance work and kids and alllll the things without the steady hand that is my husband.  I’ll grow and become more confident in myself, I hope. We will make sure our kids feel their dad’s love from across the world. We will make sure that he feels our love, too. We will make it.

I hope this blog helps me reflect on what surely will be a challenging year.  As I write this I realize my “thing” is my family.  It’s the only thing I’ve ever really been positive that I wanted.  I have it, and I’m so proud of it.  It’s better than any other hobby or “thing” I can think of.  Thank you for reading this far, and thank you to our friends and family who already support us and will continue to through the next year. Stay tuned for more adventures with Bugsy and Boo. ❤️

Thanks for joining me!

Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter. — Izaak Walton