Hey, y'all -
Thor's leave got approved, and he was given the go-ahead to come home for two weeks. Mazar-I-Sharif to Bagram Airfield to Kuwait to Minneapolis to Missoula is probably not a very popular ticket, and it took him over a week just to get here (though the travel time didn't count against his two week leave). On the night he was supposed to arrive, I was a nervous wreck. Would he be different? Would I be different? Would we get along like we used to or would we spend the whole time getting to know each other again? Typically, my emotions are in good shape and my hair is a mess. For Thor's arrival, I told my girlfriends, my brain was a tossed salad of anxiety but my hair decided to pull it together. Like it took pity on me and said "Eh, let's give her this." (That's me in the bathroom, trying to take deep, cleansing breaths).
I was all over the map in terms of how I felt about Thor's arrival. On one hand, I told him he might have to catch a cab, because I wasn't sure how I'd react to seeing him for the first time and I might start wailing in the middle of the airport. "Low key is the way to go!" I thought. Then I'd wake up the next morning and think, "This is a BIG DEAL. I should call the local news and have them cover it. "Multi-camera coverage is the way to go!" I thought.
His plane was scheduled to land at 10pm, so you kids spent the night with Grandma Sue and I went to get your dad at the airport. As he was landing, I texted him that he would need to meet me over in the little maintenance hallway away from the regular arrivals because I was barely holding it together. In the end, there was some happy crying and things went back to normal surprisingly fast and instead of wondering how I should document it, I decided instead to just live it. It was a little awkward and a lot joyous and I'll remember it forever.
The next morning, he got immediately back in the dad swing of things, making pancakes with Laney and taking us to the farmer's market. That's one of the things I hadn't done with him gone, because there were two of you and just one of me and holy hipster hell, that place is crowded. It's impossible to shop for produce while also keeping an eye on Hagen, who's likely to see an ear of corn and take a sharp right while he does a monologue on the history of maize in native cultures.
Your dad came back super skinny, because Camp Marmal isn't known for its gourmet spread. But Grandma Sue hustled over with some homemade ice cream sandwiches and fixed him right up.
The solar eclipse was just a few days after he got home, so we all climbed on our roof for a family viewing.
One of the reasons Thor picked that two week window to come home was it coincided with Laney's 8th birthday. As part of our present to her, we gave her a little bedroom makeover.
On her actual birthday, she wanted to celebrate by taking two of her best friends to dinner at a Chinese restaurant, and then having a sleepover. Living next to launching drones and assorted ordnance for a year had probably prepared your dad just right for the average voice pitch of a gaggle of 3rd grade girls. Then they wanted to walk around the mall and pretend they were high schoolers and it was like a horrifying visit from the Ghost of Teenager Future.
The girls got in their sleeping bags for their sleepover, but would NOT go to sleep. I did Warning #1 and then Warning #2 and told the girls I didn't want to have to come back. Then I remembered that one of great things about Thor being home - besides that I got to have a great romantic reunion with the love of my life - was that there was now another ADULT in the house, who could shoulder some of this responsibility. A glorious co-parent. So I told Thor, who was peacefully snoring through all the giggling next door, "The next time they make a racket, it's your turn to be bad cop." "Sure," he mumbled. At one o'clock in the damn morning, the girls decided to dance on the bed (I'm guessing) and kicked the wall separating our rooms. "OH, HELL NO!" I yelled. And though I had made Thor promise to take the next turn at parenting, I vaulted over him in the bed like one of those jesus lizards that runs across water, threw open Laney's door and announced. "I AM DONE. If I hear another peep out of this room, I'm throwing your butts in my car and YOU can explain to your mamas why you're standing on your porch in the middle of the night. LOOK ME IN THE FACE AND TELL ME YOU UNDERSTAND ME."
I woke up the next morning wondering if I'd been too scary, but by the next weekend Laney said they wanted to come back for another sleepover, so apparently it's harder to traumatize third graders than it used to be.
Then it was time to get down to the business of planning Laney's real 8th Birthday Party weekend, and you know I don't do anything halfway.
Tune in tomorrow to see how this turned out (No, really. I already wrote the post, so I mean it this time.)
Love,
Mom
No comments:
Post a Comment