We are in an interesting situation this season. My husband is deployed, again. If you ask me how I am, I will tell you that I’m doing great. The kids and I are busy, happy, and blessed in so many, many ways. I have little to complain about: new, comfortable home, sweet, impossible baby on the way, friends and family near and far who care about us, and a Father in Heaven who I know is always mindful of us. I am blessed with work, and I am never without something to do and someone to serve. I am blessed with health, which is no small thing for me in a pregnancy. Yes, life has its tedium, and I long for my childrens’ bedtime and a solid night’s sleep just like any other mother, but on a whole things are good.

This Thanksgiving I thought about my blessings and very near the top of my list was the fact that my husband was deployed to a safe location. I know a lot of people who aren’t deployed to very secure locations right now, and a few who are deployed to regions of the world filled with the stuff of nightmares. Their wives and children worry every day if Daddy will come home, and that is a heavy load to bear.

My husband fixes the communication/ navigation systems on re-fuelers. This is the plane that flies near a combat zone and re-fuels a fighter or bomber in midair so that warfare may continue without the risk of landing. My husband stays on the ground, a few countries away from the worst of it, and although his job is a risky one (we’ve lost people at home doing his job- accidents happen, and on a jet those accidents can kill you) I don’t spend too much time thinking about it.

My father deployed when Jonas was a baby, and he was in a much scarier place. It wasn’t the worst location, but there was plenty of danger, and I was afraid for him. I was afraid for my mother. I could not watch the news without feeling panic, and I left a phone message from him on my answering machine the entire 14 months he was gone because what if that was the last thing I ever heard from him?

Yes, it could be much worse.

My husband and I can e-mail, sometimes several times a day because of his duty station. Almost all of these e-mails contain nothing of any real importance, and yet in their void of substantial conversation, they are substantial, keeping us connected and aware of the other person. What did you do today? Fixed a plane. How about you? Took Jonas to school, did some laundry, a little scrapbooking. Truly, these exchanges are nothing special- except that they exist to show that we exist and care enough to connect, even if over the truly mundane.

Mostly, I am not lonely. Part of this is due to having so much to accomplish, and to having two little people here to need me. Part of this is due to the fact that I never feel completely lonely when I’m carrying a baby- he is always there, and that is comforting. Part of it is that I decided not to feel that way, and so I am very quick to try to shut off any feelings of loneliness. Today I was missing Chris a little, and so I wore the locket he gave me before his last deployment. It was a quiet reminder, but a happy one, and I thought of Chris often throughout the day, but not with sadness.

Jonas gets lonely. There is a very sensitive kid beneath his “climb the walls” exterior, and he misses his father acutely. Sometimes he is playing and he just walks away to a corner somewhere alone as if his little heart is just too burdened to carry on. There are nights like tonight where he crawls into bed and wishes for his Daddy. He never says a prayer without asking God to bring Daddy home, and I know it isn’t a request to bring Daddy home safely or in due time. He wants his Dad, and it always breaks my heart a little because even though I’m ok, and I can do this, and WE can do this- I want Jonas’ Daddy for him as much as he does, because I want my boy happy and feeling safe and secure. I have never cried because I missed my husband, but I have cried because Jonas misses him.

I have tried so hard to occupy Jonas, hoping that if I keep him distracted enough, he won’t hurt. After tonight, I am wondering if perhaps that is dumb. That is how I cope. That is MY coping mechanism. Throw yourself into life and the present and over commit until you are so busy you don’t have time to feel. Don’t think about it- just work and play and tell yourself everything is under your control. I have done it since I was a child, and it serves me well. It worked better last deployment when Jonas was about Maggie’s age, and so much easier to distract.

I think I need to have more moments and activities focused around their Dad. We all Christmas shopped and put a care package together for Chris, and of course, he is remembered in every prayer. He certainly isn’t absent, but I wonder if Jonas would feel better if I made him more present somehow. It is overwhelming to think of how and I’m not sure if that will make people feel better or worse.

I wish I had more answers.

Final out on the old house was today. It went fine- interesting, but fine.

Turns out. . .the “new” carpet was actually the old carpet. So, no, contrary to popular belief- that wasn’t all us. Do you know how many people told me it was new?

I saw spots reappear within in weeks of moving in and we had a few plumbing issues that ruined certain rooms and I’ve been living with serious carpet mildew for over a year now- the only thing that was getting me through was knowing I didn’t have to pay for it- when we first talked they were all “It was new. . .and we have no record of these disasters (really? nothing about having to replace all the tile when the pipe burst in the kitchen? Nothing at all?). . .so we’ll take three years off but. . .$$$$$.

Idiots. The house record may have missed the repairs that would have totally cleared us from responsibility, but it did note that it was the house’s original carpet. ORIGINAL. As in been through at least 3 families with kids and dogs and people walking around in dirty combat boots.

Finally, I’m free of that evil carpet.

Breath with me for a moment.

Despite all of the help, our friends who cleaned the kitchen forgot the drawers and inside the cupboards. So I did those. Not a big deal! With how many people were in there, I’ll bet they couldn’t even open the cupboards!

They also never opened the cupboard where all of the cleaning supplies I had purchased for the people cleaning were kept. So. . .ummm. . .we have our year’s supply of cleaning stuff. And then some. Anybody need a magic eraser?

The lady came back and was a little ridiculous about the cupboards. I was distracted and forgot the bottom ones. She wanted to charge us $50 to have someone do about 15 minutes worth of cleaning. I put my foot down and she was all, “This will take a looooong time.” I said, “I could have this done in 20 minutes.” So she’s telling me that she has to go and the entire office is closing early because of the holiday and they can charge me for an extra day which is more than the $50 for cleaning.

So I’m all- well, if you get 3 hours off today, how about I get three hours extra too? Seems fair. Five days is five days. So she called her boss, and they gave me 15 minutes to get it done before they would re-assess. She treated me like I was insane to even try and that there was NO possible way to get them done that fast.

Never underestimate a money grubbing woman with two kids who have been taught to clean. I had them done in 15 minutes, and done well. Ha. The kids got major Mom-props for their help.

We did get charged for the fridge handle and a housekey (I think Chris may have taken that with him to the desert-ha!)- so only $35. Not bad.

And I’m FREEEEEEEEE to go enjoy my new house. . .the house with no downstairs carpeting and lovely, lovely wood floors that I can drop a whole gallon of grape juice on with no lasting consequence!

My house is moved.

MY HOUSE IS MOVED.

The old one, which was much more of a clean up and repair situation than it usually would have been, is clean. There are parts of the house that actually look better than when we moved in. Looking at the task from the beginning, I knew it was an absolutely impossibility for me. Not only was that too much work to give to anyone, but after being seriously ill and debilitated for over five months, that was no ordinary mess.

I let a lot slide in those months because I had to. Crayons on the wall, spots on the carpet, stickers glued to inappropriate surfaces- all were there for everyone to see. Honestly, it was embarrassing. The only thing that let me even show my face was knowing that I had done the best I could, even if it wasn’t good at all. That and the total cheerfulness of the people who came to help.

A young man at our church was in need of an Eagle Scout project, and he chose taking over my move and home repair. He enlisted tons of help from church members, his scouting group, Chris’ squadron, the Honor Guard, and friends. I do not know the total number of people who came, but I know there were well over thirty, at least. They worked all day hauling furniture, scrubbing, cleaning carpets, making repairs (one poor guy had to totally reassemble my old entertainment center when it died on the way over), and doing huge amounts of lawn work. In addition to all this work, the Scout organized a lunch brought in by volunteers so everyone was fed as well. If I had tried to do any of this myself it would have been impossible. I am so grateful.

I spent most of my time at the new house, unpacking and directing traffic. Every time I dropped by the old house, I wanted to run around hugging all these fantastic people I was so happy and thankful they were there.

Last night, I went to dinner with a friend and visited Lowe’s for a few minor items that I needed to set up the new house. I also went out and bought a stack of thank you cards. Today, while I rest my body since I totally over did it yesterday, that will be my project. I don’t know if I will be able to fully convey my thanks. I wish I could send each helper a hundred pieces of happiness.

I am stuck in between. Every military wife is well acquainted with limbo. Limbo is knowing you’re moving, but waiting. Limbo is knowing a deployment is about to happen, or about to be over, but waiting. Limbo is wondering if much hoped for orders will ever come and waiting and waiting and wondering if you dare to hang curtains and invest in your home or even in friendships that might be cut off at the quick. Limbo is also living paycheck to paycheck, having a list of needs and wants and plans, and being able to do one small thing every two weeks, but never being able to complete a project entirely.

Planning for the needs of a move, two growing children, a husband who is gone and a baby who will arrive in due time- time that feels at once far away and around the corner- well. . .I feel like I’m putting sprinkles on a cake one at a time rather than just shaking them on. It is maddening.

I can tell you right now almost exactly what I want to do to decorate my living room in the new house and to make it homey and “fit” to the shape of the room and our needs. I can show you the fabrics, the bookshelves, the rocking chair- but I can’t just make that happen without sufficient funds and enough time and calm to actually sew the throw pillows and the curtains and to set details right.

I can tell you exactly how many diapers and wipes and baby outfits I need, but I can’t just click a button and make it happen. The same goes for plans for my family when we are all reunited, and plans for the birth of this little one. I know exactly what I want.

I have Christmas shopping nearly complete- except for two small details, both of which have to wait for my time and one of my freelance paychecks to hit. I am so close to having that done I can smell it- but I just can’t get there.

I know this is an extremely common complaint. Very few people get to look at life like a Pottery Barn catalog and say, “I’ll take the entire room down to the golden retriever named Buddy and be done with it. Most of us plan and put our lives into practice in baby steps of accomplishment. . .but I wonder. What would it be like to snap my fingers, or even to schedule an entire day devoted to these ongoing, brain-sucking projects and just see them done?

Monday I shall sew the living room quilt, curtains and coordinating decor. Tuesday, I will do all of my baby shopping online. Wednesday I will unpack the entire house. Thursday, I will cook a holiday dinner perfectly, from the pies to the free-range, organic bird and it will look like it came from the pages of a magazine! Friday I’ll go to work, be fabulous and everyone will love me. Saturday I will nurture my children until they are so blue in the face with goodness, wonderment and light my home feels like Heaven on Earth, and then Sunday I will worship in perfect harmony, feel uplifted and sustained, and use those gifts to truly serve those around me.

What would I do the next week?

I am unrealistic. I know. I would need a team of underlings to accomplish all that every week. But I am a planner, one who is stuck in limbo, and sometimes the planning turns to sheer fantasy. Right now, I’m going to go fantasize that it is all done and I am holding my baby.

(The pic has nothing to do with the post- I just love the image of Jonas laying there waiting for the water to hit him, just taking life as it comes).

We made it through the day after dropping Chris off at o’dark thirty in the morning. I had a sad boy, a mad daughter and a very sleepy pregnant lady to deal with (oh wait, that last person was me). I spent Chris’ last night home waking up every fifteen minutes as though I had something good waiting for me in the morning.

I spent the day puttering around the huge mess that trying to pack up a house is, and thankfully, managed to get the rest of the grown up’s clothing into boxes. With Chris deployed and me pregnant, we really won’t need to open these boxes for a few months, and I must say it feels nice to simplify so completely.

I have three pairs of maternity pants and five shirts. I have one skirt, some socks and unders. Aside from that, there are no clothes in my room. I actually love this because it ultimately means that I don’t have to think. No more digging and searching and second guessing whether or not something will fit. (Hi, note from your basketball belly- it won’t fit. Give up. Move on.) No more tripping over Chris’ socks or bits of uniform, it’s all boxed up. I love all boxed up.

Today, my biggest thrill was finding that our neighbors’ trash cans were all not full. You see, with all the packing and de-junking and garage cleaning happening around here my trashcan has been full for weeks and I’ve been collecting hefty bags of excess. I have permission to top of my neighbor’s bins, but this was the first time that there was so much extra space that I am trash free! Woo-Hoo! I was so stoked I nearly danced back into the house! It doesn’t take much to make me happy.

The kids had a long day with all of us awake so early, and we had a lot of bickering and a lot of creative silliness. I worry for them during deployments because their understanding is so limited, and there are things I just can’t adequately explain. Jonas keeps asking why Daddy has to go, and being the kind of kid who wants to know exactly why, I finally broke down and told the truth as best I could. I looked up a few internet photos of the twin towers and a few pictures of terrorists and tried to explain that if Dad doesn’t fix the planes then the good guys can’t get to where they need to go to catch the bad guys, and if they can’t do that then the bad guys do horrible things like run airplanes into our buildings and kill lots of people. Part of me felt like I was giving him way too much info, and the other part of me thinks that Jonas has a need to understand why, and that should be respected. I wonder what he’ll do with the information.

Maggie, of course, is far too little to understand anything, but she is quick to remember her Daddy in her prayers, and today as we prayed over our meals and I listened to my babies ask that Daddy be safe and come home soon, in my heart I felt very reassured that this was not bad. This is a hard thing, but this is also an opportunity for growth, and my children are learning and benefiting from this opportunity to sacrifice and to exercise their faith, as challenging as it may be.

I guess everyone needs to have at least one breakdown before a deployment. It’s my night.

This week we received a long awaited call from the housing office to tell us that they had a new house for us to move into. I checked out the home, and it is very nice. We will gain a bedroom and another bathroom, both of which are big pluses for an about to be family of five. Another huge improvement is the lack of carpeting in the dining room. Carpeting in a dining room is a serious confusion of reality. There is a two car garage, plus a storage area in back where we can keep all of our yard tools. There is even very nice natural light in this house, which always makes me feel warm and fuzzy.

The only downer is that the first day we can move in is November 21st. That is a month after Chris deploys. I will be six and a half months pregnant.

I was asked just how I planned to do this, and I said, “with a lot of help”. You see, not only will I be very pregnant, but I’m a very pregnant person with an irritable uterus and a big history of preterm labor. Lifting? Out. Heavy cleaning? Not allowed. Taking bedframes apart? Strictly verboten. Hanging curtains? Only if I want to lay down for the next three months. I am allowed to supervise and maybe shelve a few dishes and hang some towels in the new house. If I take it very slowly over the next five weeks, I hope to pack one room per week in our current home.

The good thing is, this will be my third move at 6.5 months pregnant. I’m in familiar territory. I also have our church, several friends and the squadron on my side, so one would hope with that many volunteers to pull from, an adequate amount will show up.

Another good thing is that we should be fairly well settled for the holidays, as the move is a week prior to Thanksgiving. That will be lovely. And we will be very settled in time for the baby, which is perfect. For awhile there I thought we would be moving with a newborn.

My favorite thing about moving is the de-junking that goes on. I love to throw things away and make trips to the thrift store with donation boxes. I love to turn three boxes of storage into one, and all of my family members worry when they see I’ve cleaned out their space, because they know that somewhere I have hidden a bag of things to throw away. I even give away things I might need in the future like old baby clothes and end tables I might use some day. I figure those items can help someone now, and the universe will provide for me when I do need such things again. So far, that has been true.

So here I am, still fairly limited in what I can accomplish per day, but happily caught up in a project. I like to have plans and goals to work toward, and it is nice to have one to occupy my time while Chris is gone.

I’m pooped.

Really, I should go to bed.

But if I go to bed chances are I’ll just lay there. . .for a few hours. . .and then wake up three times to make sure the bathroom is still there.

Now, I should go clean the kitchen. It needs it. Dinner has left its mark. But I’m not going to. If I clean the kitchen, I’ll wear myself out, and if I wear myself out I’ll pay for it tomorrow. And I can’t pay for it tomorrow because tomorrow I have to be a functional human being.

Chris graduates Airman Leadership School tomorrow. (Yippee!) The awards ceremony is at 8:30 am. This means I have to be cute by 8:00 am when I take Jonas to school. This means Maggie has to be clean (she’s always cute, me. . .that takes effort).

Because that isn’t asking enough of me, I also have to be able to get through the day (family visiting) and be ready for a banquet at 6:30 pm celebrating his graduation. Would someone explain to me why they throw a graduation banquet and they still charge the graduate an arm and a leg to attend? It’s like, “Hey good going! Now pony up. . .that’ll be $42 for dinner for you and the little woman!” And we aren’t talking fantastic food. This is Air Force party grub, which has never left me impressed. At any rate, I have to make it to the evening without wanting to die.

So. . .I. Can’t. Clean. The. Kitchen. Tonight.