The past five days have been filled with insightful moments. Take today at 11:48 a.m. On a whim, I purchased a container of wasabi and mayonnaise flavored Pringles. I placed [S] in the car seat, my purchases in front passenger seat and hopped into my Premacy. As if possessed, I opened the Pringles and began eating them in the car. (This never happens.) And I continued doing so until I arrived home. Upon arrival, I placed my now-sleeping daughter in her crib, and continued eating the entire can of Pringles. No. Not my finest moment. Not by far.
But I have an excuse, if not a reason, for my actions. It has been five days since my Husband left Okinawa. Yes, of course, he’s coming back. But nevertheless, it’s been a long five days. I’m tired. I’m lonely. I’m cranky. In some ways, I feel as if I’ve reverted to being single. The house is quiet at night. The bed seems far too large. And I can’t wait for the light of the morning.
There are funny moments. The day after Russell left, I was changing [S]’s diaper when she said in a clear and undeniable voice, “I know. I know. I know.” I stopped, stared at her, and started laughing. Yes, a young child’s vocabulary reflects upon his or her primary caregiver. And, yes, for the past several days, I have been patting her bum with a wipe and, in response to her cries from the pain, saying, “I know. I know. I know.” I smiled as I mused about Russell’s reaction to hearing her daughter mimic his wife.
There are the early morning moments. The moment I bring [S] into our bed to sneak in a few extra minutes of sleep. Each morning, when she first lays down, she looks around the bed and says “Dada, Dada.” The moment when I make her breakfast and wonder what I’m not doing quite right. And then there are the evening moments. That moment when I realize I’m looking at my phone, rather than engaging with my daughter, while eating dinner. That moment of startling realization that, despite my love of food and cooking, if I didn’t have a family to care for, I don’t know if I would ever cook. Or clean. Or go grocery shopping.
And then there is the moment I realized a singular truth: Russell rescued me from myself.