Preparations for his arrival home must be made! Yesterday, I spent two hours at the grocery store stocking up on all the snacks and food he loves but can't get in Baghdad. The kitchen is ridiculous right now - I bought far more than we will need for the 18 days he's home. And the cleaning. I know, Jason could care less. Yet, I'll spend tonight scrubbing and organizing and getting things just right, so that when he walks in the door it will look naturally clean (as opposed to the "look I just scrubbed the house top-to-bottom!" kind of clean). Like it's always clean (riiight). It's totally unnecessary, and he knows it's not the norm, but I always do it anyway.
In fact, I'd say the days leading up to his arrival home feel almost like I'm getting ready for a big date. Like we're newly engaged and not married for...nearly 13 years! Today it was the primping. Hair highlighted, new cut. Picked up my new glasses at the optometrist's office. I've layed out a new outfit and got some new make-up. Heck, I'll even shave my legs. Not to mention, I've lived exclusively on TicTacs and lattes the last three days in hopes of dropping those last two stubborn pounds (without success, of course!).
Kids are cleaning their rooms and getting everything in order like I've instructed them. For them, it's more like Christmas Eve. Daddy's coming home! They look forward to that as much as opening presents from Santa. And Daddy always brings home some nice gifties for the kiddies. They're not going with me to pick him up at the airport this time, because we've planned a vacation to the Laurel Highlands, Pennsylvania that takes them out of school (the last day of school - yup, I'm THAT mom!) for a day.
I'll stop on the way to the airport for a latte for me and a chai for Jason, and then I'll wait [im]patiently for his arrival. I can't wait for that moment when he strolls in with the rest of the arriving passengers, and I see him from across the way. I'll try to look cool and not overly crazy seeing him, but I'll inevitably fail, getting a bit misty-eyed as my heart thumps through my chest loudly; it's really that wonderful seeing him each time he comes home. Our son, Owen, calls it "icky love stuff". And he's right, because this is the stuff love is made of. Good stuff.
The final Leave. With a promise of all this - the crazy, the unaccompanied assignment, the separation - to be over. Soon.
|No one ever said the primping part|