Bad days...

Friday was a really bad day. Nothing major happened. No one got hurt. Nothing broke. It was just a normal Friday. The kids had virtual school, I had errands to run, I got a workout in, all very routine, with the exception of the black cloud hanging over my head that followed me wherever I went. (Below...actual clouds following me all.day.long).

My husband has been deployed for two months now. This is our fourth deployment, and it's one he's been on before, so I was ready and knew what to expect. It was our first, however, where our middle two were old enough to understand that daddy wasn't home. So, we prepared for it.

We signed up for the FOCUS program that is offered to help families better communicate with children about their emotions at their age-appropriate level. We made sure everyone had their daddy dolls. Our 4-year-old was our biggest concern regarding daddy being gone as she would come down the stairs sobbing if she heard my husband start his car and drive to work in the AM and she didn't give him a hug first. So, we explained to her that all she had to do was give her daddy doll a hug whenever she was missing daddy, and he would feel it. (This has helped tremendously with her).

I recorded videos of my husband reading a few books to the kids for bed times when they wished daddy could be there to tuck them in. We had a book that had his voice recorded, reading it to them as well. We video chat as often as we can, have our monthly 'ice cream for dinner night' to mark another month down that daddy is gone (which means one month closer to his coming home). With all of this, I can honestly say that after two months, my children have adjusted well to daddy being gone.

The temper tantrums that were quick to rise after he left, are fewer and farther between. The back-talking attitude of my 6-year-old, and his just all around whiny-ness when I asked him to do anything that wasn't what he wanted, has lessened. My 13-year-old is...well...a 13-year-old. He knows absolutely everything there is to know about being grown up and taking care of himself, so he clearly doesn't need me to tell him anything and, therefore, doesn't listen when I do and, honestly, as puberty trumps deployment, these are issues I feel we would be dealing with even if my husband were home. Two out of three is an okay record in my book. (I'm not counting the baby because, she's a baby. She doesn't know what's going on and could care less about anything...unless she poops...then she cares immensely about cleaned, and being cleaned immediately).

But...I've been so focused on my children for the past two months...making sure that their emotional needs are met, that they feel safe still, even though their father who has been a constant for years is all of a sudden only seen on a computer screen or heard on the phone, making sure that as much of their normal, before daddy left, did, in fact, stay normal...I've been so focused on them, that Friday, I was slammed with the pressing weight of sadness for myself. It's as if, for the past two months, I've been standing in the ocean, right where the waves break. I've been making sure I take each wave as it comes...telling my kids the wave is coming to ensure they stay standing, but there's always that one wave...that one that you don't see coming, that just slams you from behind making you lose your balance and sense of calm as you're dragged unexpectedly under. I didn't see the wave.

I miss my husband so much. I miss having someone to talk to at the start and end of each day. I miss being able to share the silly things the kids say or do that make me laugh. I miss being able to share my frustrations, bits of gossip, or just thoughts that I've had. I miss the weight of him next to me in bed at night. I miss holding his hand, or giving him a kiss, or hugging him. I miss him.

Most days, I'm okay when he's gone. We text, we talk, we facetime once or twice a week if his schedule allows. Usually, I'm a thinker when I get in bed, tossing and turning until I drift off to sleep. Since he's been gone though, I'm busy enough with the kids each day that by the time I get in bed, I drop like a stone in water and sleep until the baby wakes me. For some reason though, Friday had me feeling like Eeyore from Winnie the Pooh. I was a down in the dumps grump all day.

Nothing worked to get me out of my mood. I mailed some boxes, including a care box to hubby. That didn't help. I dropped off some items from my cleaned out garage that have just been cluttering up my driveway since we cleaned it out a couple weeks ago. While happy the items were gone, it was more of a "meh" feeling than a "yay" feeling. I went to Target and bought some workout clothes I've been wanting to get. And...NOTHING! I felt NO joy even from shopping at Target. In fact, I felt worse for spending the money. Who feels worse after going to Target?! It was madness I tell you.

I sent the kids to bed early and stayed up way too late watching Netflix's new Bridgerton. That made me feel a little better, since it is a great show, and I love all of the actors and their roles...and the clothes! It was good to be able to watch something that didn't have sing-a-long songs, wasn't animated, and, let's face it, had some sex in it. At least someone's getting it.

Saturday was a little better. But I forced myself to do something I rarely do. Nothing. I did nothing. I didn't clean. I didn't fold the basket of laundry that sat by my feet all day. I didn't go out. I relaxed. I read a book (one I've read about three times already, but finally got the hardcovers to this trilogy I LOVE as a Christmas present thanks to my sister).

Since it was a rainy and cold day, I put chili in the crock pot for dinner and drank hot tea while I read my book. I felt like doing my nails, so gave myself a manicure. I let my kids watch TV and/or play their tablets all day, without mom guilt that I should be making them do something educational. My 13 year old was in trouble, for various reasons throughout the week that culminated in my finding out about two very, very poor test grades in two subjects that could have easily been avoided had he even tried to study, so, as a consequence, he sat at his desk all day, when he wasn't doing chores. After a while, I allowed him a book to read...but again...I felt no remorse because I desperately needed a break. from. everything.

Finally...on Sunday...I felt more like myself. I started my day with some virtual church, went for a run, and started back on the never ending chores of the house. I had a come to Jesus conversation with my oldest that, while emotional and stressful, I feel helped open some doors to understanding things that have been on his mind. I resumed my "normal" since my husband left, and I did it without the cloud over my head.

I still miss my husband. For me, when he's gone, it's like taking Nyquil. It's medicine that, when I take it, it makes me drowsy, so I go to sleep, but the next day when I wake up, I'm a split second behind on everything. It's like my brain and my body aren't quite connected like they were before I took the medicine. That's what my world is like when he's gone. I'm not quite connected. Not quite myself. Functioning, but more out of habit and routine than anything else.

But...I am well enough now. And, since I'm feeling better after my self-allowed brood, it's time to get back to our new (albeit temporary) "normal". It's time to get back up, get back out in the ocean...while, maybe, doing a little better job of watching out for those waves.