Five Days and Counting

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.

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