Brian is spending this week in the Middle East, working on improving communications for our troops, which will (please, God) allow them to keep in closer contact with home. I’m so proud of what he’s working on… So proud of him. We miss him so much, his absence leaves a huge void. He is so much a part of the rhythm of our home. We’re out of sync.
In order to distract myself and fill in the hours and hours of time without him, I’ve been getting ready for baby. Preparing for a new arrival always makes my heart leap. I love an excuse to go shopping for yarns and fabrics – as if I needed one. 🙂 With only a few weeks left until our new little gal arrives, I feel a little pressed to get everything done that I have planned. I’ve got stacks of fabrics and hanks of yarn waiting to be made into bumper pads for the bassinet, little dresses, hats, tights, and more… Here’s what is in my workbasket at the moment::
And we’ve been spending time out and about together – at Old Sturbridge Village, or grocery shopping, or buying more supplies for baby projects and <gasp> Christmas gifts. Cat has been keeping the kids busy with a “Treasure Island” unit study she’s created for them (we’ll eventually get it posted to the Sonnet website for you to use with your children).
It seems that Brian’s absence is not only throwing off our rhythm, but our immune systems. I remember this happening when he was in the Air Force. Something always happens when he leaves. Someone falls and chips a tooth, or gets scratched by the neighbour’s cat, or catches some nasty germ. This week we’ve really outdone ourselves with upset tummies, two bloody noses, and a few summer colds (or allergies…). Most nights have been sleepless. James takes a couple of days to adjust to not having Papa in the room at night. He’s used to Brian coming upstairs at about the same time each night, checking on him, covering him up, switching the lights on and off again. No amount of Calm Child drops can replace that kind of comfort and security.
I’m looking forward to Saturday morning coffee with my love. He’ll be teasing me about my half-caf, but will gamely drink it anyway. I’ll make him a pot of “real” coffee along about 3 in the afternoon. The children will pile onto the sofa to smother him with hugs and kisses and questions, and Papa-guess-whats. We’ll make him a home-coming meal, and probably watch a family movie (which he will most likely miss half of because he will have fallen asleep). It doesn’t matter. He will be home, and we will be complete.
Later, we’ll worry about shaking the powdery sand out of his things and getting them washed. And we’ll go to Mass to pray for those he’s left behind in the Gulf, thanking God for their service, their strength and perseverance, and mostly for their families, still waiting to regain their rhythm.