Wherein we are Still Alive

This face is always in my face. Always. 

That last post certainly was optimistic and cheery, wasn't it? Welp.

It's been almost three months since our W deployed and we are still alive. We have made it through two different school breaks (seven and ten days) and Ninth Winter. It was snowing this morning.

It's not just the lack of Spring weather that is making this difficult, though--we all really miss our W. The kids cry for him multiple times a day, and when someone falls down or is afraid they immediately sob for their father. I mean, it's huge props to him that he is so beloved, but it makes it really hard to replace him for the time being. I feel like if I hear the kids ask for him one more time I'm going to flip out.

Speaking of flipping out, I have been doing some stellar parenting. I'm a massive introvert with anxiety disorder and (legitimately diagnosed, not Buzzfeed quiz) OCD. And it is really, really hard to not get a break. I mean, I have two and a half hours to myself Monday through Friday, when Sara is at school, but that's it. There is always--ALWAYS--someone touching me or yelling for me or touching and yelling. And the second I sneak away for some decompression they find me. I guess I'm beloved, too. But it's going to kill me.

I feel guilty being honest about the struggles of deployment. We are supposed to put on this "Army Wife Love It Or Leave It Murica" brave face, but the truth of the matter is--it stinks on ice. A friend of mine recently reminded me that I need to "Choose My Choice" and it really hit me: I love my husband and he loves his job. I chose him. He chose this. And I'd choose him one million times over again, so I'd better stop whinging and get on with this life.

And the kids are screaming for me again.