Monday, January 9, 2012

barefoot deployment blues.

They say as soon as your spouse goes on deployment, things go wrong. The dishwasher breaks, the roof leaks, the kids get pink eye, something. Well, Ryan left on Saturday for the first of several month long detachments that he'll go on this year, and the rule seems to be true. 

Maybe, since it's not a real deployment yet, it wasn't a real disaster, but it was enough to make me really miss him. 

I was doing pretty good on Saturday morning when I dropped him off on base. I hugged him, kissed him, and drove off with a lump in my throat. I tried not to cry, because this is going to be a long year of saying goodbye to him. In fact, we totaled up all the time we'll spend together this year between detachments and deployment; a whopping four months. So I swallowed back the tears and reminded myself that we had been apart before, I could handle this.

I spent the whole day with a friend whose husband is deployed now. Apparently it's an unwritten military wives rule that you never spend the first day alone. Love that rule. We laughed and relaxed all day and I hardly even remembered he was gone. Until I got home to a dark house and an empty bed. I got that lump in my throat again, but managed to take a deep breath and try and think of the silver lining; the whole bed to myself. 

Sunday was filled with little 'throat lump' moments; waking up alone, taking the dog for a walk by myself, making dinner for one, and mostly a quiet house.  But I managed to keep it together, remembering that other friends we're only in the first month of six and I would be seeing Ryan in just four weeks.

Today, after a long morning walk with Beau, I left for work. I was starting to feel a little better, despite the rainy, dreary weather. It felt good to be back in the routine of work, my week was quickly filling up with meetings and appointments, and I was looking forward to a busy week that would make the time fly. 

Then I got home and walked in the front door to see that Beau had chewed to shreds every pair of shoes that was on the floor in my closet, and sweetly brought the carnage out to the hallway for effect. Eight pairs of shoes, including my TOMS which I wear every single day of my life and two pairs of super cute heels that I love. He was merciless, not just chewing off a little edge of a heel here and there, but pulling apart the soles and tearing the fabric into little un-vaccumable shreds. (I took pictures, but the wound is still too raw for me to post them for the world to see.)  

Well, all the tears that I'd been holding back since Saturday suddenly filled my horror-stricken eyes and I just sat down in the hallway and cried like a little shoeless baby. Not that Ryan being home would have made any difference, but seeing almost half of my shoe collection lying in pieces up and down the hallway suddenly made me feel very alone. Luckily, there was a sweet chocolate lab with absolutely no recollection of having chewed all those shoes who quickly came to my side on the floor and offered some kisses and his "shake" paw to make me feel better.

Three days down, twenty six to go.

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