"I just don't know how you do it."
I think I hear that phrase the most these days when talking with non-military friends, church members, and acquaintances about our family schedule. It happened again tonight and I got bit by the blog bug to write about it.
Ronnie has been gone for exactly 75 days. The "I don't know how you do it" comments come after the well-intentioned person realizes that he is gone, has been gone for awhile now, and won't be back anytime soon.
In 75 days, the house is still standing, the cars are still running, the kids are still going to school, and I have completed two courses and started on my next term. I have also completed one half-marathon and am five weeks away from the next one. I have taught one daughter multiplication, the other how to read, and am writing my Thesis this term. There have been too many trips to the grocery store to count. Too many Girl Scout and AWANA meetings. Too many Hershey Kisses in place of real goodnight kisses. Just too much to count period. Maybe that stubborn streak is serving me well, because when I sit down and think about it, I really don't know how I get it all done either.
And yes, it's all done without him.
Just writing those words pulls the band aid off of my heart and brings tears to my eyes. Right now, my life is "going on" without a major player in it. And it sucks. (Sorry mom, there's no good or eloquent way to write that statement.)
But life does go on, whether we want it to or not. That's my end of the military wife contract. My job is to hold down the home front. To make sure the girls grow and develop, feed their curiosity, and beat them when they need it. To keep everything running and moving in the right general direction. To ensure that he has somewhere to call home, somewhere to look forward to returning, a somewhat safe place to fall -- even if there are Lego's, glitter, and lip gloss strewn about.
We are at the quarter-ish way through point. To that well-intentioned person: I'm really not doing it all by myself. The girls and I are holding each up. And when I just can't do it anymore... when I feel this house of cards is about to fall and crumble all around me... there are others who come in and huddle around us and lift us up. You, yourself, helped me do it today. That hug you gave me and the kind words you spoke were all I needed to keep going today.
