Kristi
I hate running. I’m not exaggerating; I’ve tried on several occasions to convince myself that I could be a runner and it never quite pans out. I love exercise and consider myself to be in pretty good shape, but I would like very much to reserve running for emergency situations only, like being chased by a rabid dog or the Boogie Man. In grade school, we had to run a timed mile twice a year as part of our physical fitness test. A mile, as you probably know, is four laps around a track. On the first lap, I was bounding with energy (although I was keeping an embarrassingly slow pace). By the second lap, I would start to get that cramp in my side. By the third lap, I was still nursing my cramp and all I could hear was the slap of my feet against the track, the involuntary wheezing exhales, and my inner monolog telling me not to throw up. At the start of the fourth lap, I was sure that death was imminent, but for whatever reason I kept going, hoping all the way that I would not stumble over my own feet, throw up, or do something equally embarrassing that would forever brand me as a loser among classmates.
Nearing the end of my husband’s six-month deployment, I began to get that familiar fourth lap feeling. I was tired. My son was tired. Even our dogs were tired. Much like that glorious home stretch of that last lap, though, I started to perk up a bit because I could see the finish. Even though I was stumbling over my own feet and moving more like a limp noodle than an athlete, I’d somehow summoned some super-strength and kicked into a sprint toward the finish. My husband was on his way home, and I was sure that everything would be easier with him.
In the last days of the deployment, I fantasized about my knight in shining armor walking through the door, telling me that he would handle the house and the baby and that I should go take a 48-hour nap and then go out for a pedicure and a massage. This was the carrot dangling in front of me; it kept me moving.
Then we got home and my bubble was burst. My husband played with our son till it was naptime…for both of them. So there I was, wide awake with two sound sleeping guys, a kitchen floor littered with my husband’s baggage, four loads of desert-coated laundry, and the task of making a real dinner for the first time in six months. How did I have more to do now that he was home, and why was everyone napping but me? This was not at all what I pictured.
My guys eventually woke up, and I thought I’d be nice and give my husband some time to play with our son while I tackled the laundry and tried to remember where I kept the pots and pans. I’d suck it up and handle everything—including all of the poopy diapers—for just one more day, and then he would step in and take over. At least when all the daily stress was over, dinner was made and cleaned up, and our son was asleep my husband would be here to hang out with and for that, I was so excit—
What?! He’s asleep?! It’s 7:30! We were supposed to have a glass of wine, watch some DVRed TV shows and talk about our feelings!
So, there I was wide-awake…again.
The next day, my husband was eager to jump into daddy mode (hallelujah), but, through no fault of his own, he was clueless.
Here are just a few of the questions I got in 24 hours and my answers:
Where are the diapers?
On the changing table.
Where are the wipes?
On the changing table.
How small do I cut up this pancake?
Smaller.
Why won’t he eat this?
He’s testing you.
Can I finish what he doesn’t eat? (This was asked with a mouth full of food.)
No.
When does Jack go down for a nap?
In an hour.
UGH! He’s poopy again?! That’s the worst thing I’ve ever smelled in my life!
…maybe if I ignore him, he’ll change Jack’s diaper himself…
Where does this go?
Over there.
Where does that go?
Over here…here, just give it to me.
Are you sure he needs a jacket?
Yes. You aren’t cold because you’re a man. He’s a 22-pound baby and he’s cold.
Why can’t I get his shoes on?
Because you’re letting him win.
Where do we keep the—Oh, never mind. I found it.
Right in front of y—ugh.
How do I give Jack a bath?
Oh here, I’ll do it. Just watch me.
Where are the towels?
In the linen closet…where they’ve been for three years.
Oh…I have to brush his teeth?
Umm…ya.
When is bedtime? I’m tired.
Seriously? It’s 6:00!
The questions started to dwindle after a couple of days, and now I’m happy to report that as I sit here and type this my husband is (successfully) feeding Jack his breakfast. The first few days after my husband returned were not what I expected, but clearly I was delusional. Although I have yet to get that 48-hour nap, I feel like I finally finished running that miserable mile.
Relief came eventually; I was just confused about when the home stretch started. For future reference, the huffing, puffing, and feeling of complete exhaustion continue after homecoming. But, I now know that when military spouses make it through the first few days of the resettling period, we will eventually get to stop answering questions, start sharing responsibility, and finally (FINALLY) stop running!
We don’t have small baby and have been married over 36 years. I went to Germany with my husband for a month long deployment. When we got back home, he couldn’t find anything and had forgotten how to use the computer. He also had very little patience when things did not go his way. We’ve done this many times and I always think it will be different, but it is a certainty. Homecomings always have bumps in the road. I can empathize with you thoroughly. I just wish there was a solution.
I LOVED this! And everything was so true… I couldn’t wait for my hubby to come home and help with the kids. Instead he played and slept just like they did 🙂
This is great – I found your conversations with your husband very funny (and familiar!). 🙂
I guess you should be glad you don’t have a year long deployment to go through.
It is exactly one year since my soldier of 22 years retiring came home from deployment. I relate to this article soooo much. With a twenty three year old married during his tour, three teenagers, and fourty six years old this year, I had many delusions. It is not quite the same as it was when he left (our time together). So many things missed for him (teenagers growing into young adults) and for me, well, learning how to manage without expectations. I was thinking the other night to myself as I was sulking about being tired and still loads of reading for homework to do, I would not give anything in this world for the discipline I have gained from being a military spouse of 19+ years. My children are culturally smart with true reality and very happy to be with their dad again. Me? I love hearing his voice in the other room. He is home, my prayers answered.
Too True. Surprisingly, the homecoming manual should be much like a recipe when figured for varying amounts of people. Homecoming Guide Tabs = Married No Kids, Married 1 Kid, Married 2 Kids, Married 3 Kids, Married 4 Kids………………….. 🙂 Our homecomings evolved from no kids to 4 Kids and every homecoming was completely different and they got better and better. It was amazing to see our homecoming excitement multiplying each time and the younger kids so very excited and the older ones like “been there done this”…………… 🙂 Happy Homecomings to all
I also understand completely where you are coming from and what you went through. Although our daughter is 14 – no poopy diapers here – we got a lot of “Mom/dad, can I go here? Can I go there? I want to do this/I want to do that. Can so and so come over? Dad, I need to you do this Right Now! Mom, why is dad being so crabby?” sort of stuff. It was very trying on all levels. On top of that, I had to bring my husband home on emergency leave b/c his mom was dying of multiple myloma.
It doesn’t matter if your spouse is deployed 6 months, 12 months, or 18 months (or longer), ALL homecomings can be trying on different levels. Every time I started to get upset or frustrated b/c I felt that once again I was the one doing everything, I stop and remind myself..”hey, he was the one in the war zone, not me. He was the one who missed the holidays being home, not me. He was the one who couldn’t pick up and drive somewhere b/c he wanted too.”
My husband knows exactly how things go here at home. I, however, was not the one in another country in a war zone. I didn’t know exactly what he had to deal with. If he needed extra time to acclimate, so be it. Especially under the circumstances I brought him home.
All true…now imagine how hard it is when BOTH spouses are active duty!!!
Great article. Really resonates with me and the family. Good job!
I’m in our first week of my husband being back from Afghanistan. The cooking again thing has me cooked! All the imagining of “things will be different this time” have been crushed.Like when he got back from Iraq 4 years ago, he’s sitting in front of the TV again and I’m still doing everything! Not that different from when he was home before, though we both planned on it being different. I know I need to give him time- good grief, he’s still jumping at every noise like it’s a bomb or terrorist! I’m trying to be patient! Even if it’s back to our dysfunctional ‘normal,” he’s home, he’s relatively safe (came home with Traumatic brain Injury and many symptoms that go with that). I had a stroke (yes, literally had a stroke at the ripe old age of 36) last year, 3 months before he deployed. I couldn’t speak for 5 days, couldn’t do math for 3 months, and 1 year 4 months later you’d never know what I went through. He will get better too… I will get used to not being on my own and being in control of everything on my own again… I will get used to not owning the remote control again… 🙂 He’s home and relatively safe… again. Another 4 years and we will go through this all over again… again.