Hurry Up and Wait

The First Week

Our dog, Silver, is depressed. He is definitely my husband's dog and he doesn't understand why my husband hasn't come home, only that he took a bunch of those great big suitcase-thingies that mean that there's a long car ride involved. And he wasn't invited. 

I must explain about our dog. He is a 132-pound Great Pyrenees. He basically looks like a giant cotton ball. He's very friendly, but has the bark of a 500-pound dog, and he's proud of it. He's a very gentle dog, but he's very protective of the kids and me. I don't worry about my safety with him around. 

Silver spends the first three days moping. The first time that my husband Skypes with us, he just about goes crazy trying to find my husband. But he's not here, just his voice and his image on the computer screen.

The kids are really good during this week. The girls (M1 and M2) are very cooperative when it comes to doing their homework and they are actually getting along. Okay, maybe not so much on the getting along bit, but at least they aren't fighting like cats and dogs. 

My son (T) has a cold. He is nice enough to let me sleep as long as I do so while holding him. Oh, and I must sleep on the couch. Not in the bed. Anytime I try to put him in his own bed, he immediately wakes up and screams his little head off. 

On Saturday, I take the kids shopping and we pick out presents for T. I take them out to eat and then we buy some groceries. We go home and make a birthday cake for him. He turns one on Sunday. We also Skype with my husband. Okay, most of us Skype with him. M2 doesn't want to see him, but she's five and it's easier for her to cope by not seeing him. Sometimes she won't even talk on the phone to him. We don't force her to talk. 

Sunday is my little guy's birthday. I wake up sad. Really sad. My husband is missing out on the festivities. The girls and I plan to take the little guy to the theme park. He won't remember it, but at least he gets to do something special for his birthday. We don't really know anyone in the area and I want to make the day as special as I can....but my husband's absence is there. 

I don't let the kids see me cry at all this day. They don't need it to make things worse for them.

When we get home, we strip T down to his diaper and strap him into his high chair and then serenade him with "Happy Birthday." I hand him a cupcake and he plays with it a little bit, but really wants no part of it. 

Well, it's against the rules to not have cake on your birthday, so I break a tiny piece off the cupcake and stuff the piece of Devil's food cake into his mouth. He keeps it there for about five seconds and then spits it out. And not just a "I'm not sure I like this" spit, but a "This is the worst thing I've ever tasted" spit. 

D2, who knows for a fact that the cake is not awful, decides to break off her own piece of cake for T....and boom! 

That would be the sound of World War Three starting in SomewhatDistracted's kitchen. He lets off a scream, I scoop him out of his chair and take him to the bathtub. 

That didn't go quite as planned. No cute pictures of cake all over his face. Nothing like that at all. But at least he had Mommy there to save him from the evil cake monster. Whew. At least there's that.