Friday, January 8, 2010
Countdown to departure.
Last day. We're cramming in as much as we can and I'm sure I won't get much sleep tonight. I need to finish Steve's laundry so he can pack, he needs to clean out his truck, and somebody probably should have made a checklist of all the everyday things he will need to remember - like medications and replacement blades for his razor.
I'm trying to stay upbeat, but there are moments when this weird combination of anxiety and sadness chips away at my resolve. I chase it away with the reminder of how happy I am that things are on an upswing for us, and how proud I am of Steve for doing everything he can to support his family. I'm also a little excited that I will be able to concentrate on some projects at home while he is away. Keeping busy is usually the best medicine for loneliness.
As expected, the kids are wearing their emotions on their sleeves this week. Tempers flare a little quicker, tears come a little easier. This morning Rachel, our 7-yr-old, was bummed because we didn't have enough bread to make cold lunch (both the kids usually take their lunches to school). When she got over that drama she asked for an egg and cheese burrito for breakfast. I told her we didn't have any tortillas and she cried. Not a spoiled-brat-whining-for-what-she-wants kind of cry; more like an "I'm really sad and this just sucks" kind of cry. So I hugged her and then sat down on the couch and held her for a while. She's always been our uber-sensitive child. Someday I might tell her to suck it up and get over it, but not today. Not when I know exactly how she's feeling.