Someone asked me yesterday what my plans were. I had to think for a minute before coming up with Alex's Saturday morning dance class.
That was it.
I almost included the DVR, Words with Friends, and eating from boredom on the list, but I was afraid that might come across as a tad pathetic.
But it isn't turning out so bad, after all.
When I woke up this morning, the first thought that went through my mind was My husband is my hero.
You might assume that I was picturing him climbing into his jet for a mission over the mountains of Afghanistan, or considering that he, along with the rest of the men and women in the squadron, will work 7 days a week for the next 6 months without complaint.
(Bad news, the Air Force does not pay overtime.)
Many of the guys are giving up regular home-cooked meals in exchange for an endless supply of cafeteria food.
(Of course, since cafeteria food is far better than the stuff I serve around here, this is actually an improvement for my husband's palate.)
But no, those were not the things I was thinking of when I awoke.
I was thinking about how, before he left, Josh taught Alex to navigate the DVR menu to turn on a kids' program by herself. He also taught her to remind her brother to go potty before starting the show, and perhaps most sweetly, to slip into momma's room and turn on the bathroom fan for background noise and silently shut her door.
Thanks to Josh, I can claim Saturday mornings as my day to sleep in. My husband knows how to love me well.
And for that, my hero, I salute you!
Later this afternoon, I commemorated the fifth fortnight since last mopping my kitchen floor by actually mopping my kitchen floor.
I might have to increase the frequency of that task. I was amazed at how many things I thought were flaws in the tiling that were...not.
Then I caught up with our good friends who've been out of town for a long time over yummy pizza with a side of whiny children.
Can't win 'em all.
Josh and I missed each other today on the computer, so hopefully we'll have a chance to talk tomorrow.
In my head I know that his schedule is upredictable and his internet access is even more unpredictable. But when I don't hear from him by what I feel is a reasonable time, there is a small part of me that entertains the thought that something bad has happened. I'll check the news, pretending to myself that I was going to do that anyway.
It's the same concern that makes my stomach drop a little when I hear a car door close in front of the house, or when the UPS man rings the doorbell.
I wish the military method of delivering bad news was something other than a knock on the door. It takes all the fun out of package delivery.
But most of the time those thoughts are hidden far away, and I probably wont realize that I've been carrying them around with me until he's home and I breathe a big sigh of relief.
I'll let you know in March.
This post was brought to you in part by Children Learning The Difference Between "Mom, You're Number 1 In My Book!" vs "Mom, You Can Take These Pancakes And Shove It."
(She was so little! I want my baby back!)