Reunification isn’t for cowards
So, it’s here. The very long-anticipated week is here. Mr. Hooah! is coming home. 7 months of separation, BCT, OCS, broken bone, and a quick visit for convalescent care, and viola! Now he will be home for a couple of months until he can rehab this leg and get himself running again. It’s quite a jolt to the system I have to admit. I am looking forward to it more than anything, but right now I am just anxiously waiting for his approval on all that I have done while he has been away.
He is not a hard man to please. Really, he’s not. I am more hard on myself than he would ever dream of being towards me. So, this is an indulgence of my own neurotic tendency toward perfectionism. You know how it is… it’s a struggle with the “enoughs.” Is the house nice enough? Are the kids behaving well enough? Do I look good enough? Have I handled our finances wisely enough? Oh, the list goes on and on. My head knows it will all be fine because we talk every evening, and we discuss everything that is going on. Nothing will be a surprise to him at all. He already knows the decisions that have been made, and all of the major decisions have gone through him via the phone. So, what’s the deal?
Maybe I am struggling with roles. When Mr. Hooah! left I had to become the pivotal point for the entire household. I was the central contact for all business, family and friends connections. I kept everyone informed of what was going on with him and Mike, and also informed my soldiers of happenings back home as I was able. I was the letter writer, care package sender, bill payer, sick toddler keeper, teenager learning to drive doer, blogger, roarer, snorer, and mopper of the floors. I do it all. Only now I am going to have to sift through these things and give up what I had only taken over to compensate for his absence. I will have to give it up adequately for both of us to adjust back into this family life gig again, but not totally so that I am ready to take it back over at a given moment when he is ready to leave again.
He will be here when I have to hug Mike good-bye and watch him fly away again. That is one thing I never could do for myself — comfort me the way he does. Holding that pillow at night just doesn’t cut it. Pillows just don’t listen very well, and they don’t seem to notice when you are crying. Let the chips fall where they may. I know that whatever little bumps there are in this road to reunification we will find that common ground in the love and tenderness we have always been able to display toward one another. I can’t wait to have him here again.
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