Dealing with a prolonged absence was hard before Ray and I got married and had children. The first deployment, to Iraq, was - in many ways - the hardest. And subsequent deployments, schools, and other extended absences were challenging, but I always felt like it got easier. It got easier to say goodbye. It got easier to find ways to stay busy while he was away. It was never easy, but it got easier.
But getting married and having kids changed all of that. It is, without a doubt, more challenging emotionally now. He is not my boyfriend or my fiance. He is my husband and my partner and the father of my children. Those three titles do not do justice to the role he plays in my life. I was amazed after we got married how a simple ceremony and a piece of paper could alter how I felt about him so much, but it did. And when our girls were born, I fell in love with him all over again. (It's so cliche to say that, but it's so completely true. Watching my husband, a man's man who has a rough job, be tender and gentle with our girls melts my heart every single time.)
It's also harder logistically now. I no longer just have myself to take care of. I am responsible for taking care of the physical and emotional needs of Juliet and Anna. And there are days when that responsibility is completely overwhelming, especially when all three of us are sick and I haven't slept. The logistics of taking care of them both in the mornings and evenings when we're trying to get to school or get fed and to bed are crazy. There are two of them and only one of me. Fortunately, Juliet is becoming more and more independent, so she can do a lot on her own. And she's also getting really good at waiting patiently while I work with Anna during The Witching Hour. But it's still hard.
And add running the house and finances into this mix. Let's not forget that... Or the fact that I'm about to be back at work full time. Time and again, people have said to me, "I don't know how you do it." Well, here's the answer: I do it messily. Three weeks in, I'm not sure I do it very well. I mean, we're all still alive, and the bills are getting paid, but it is the hardest thing I've ever done. I'm stressed out and overwhelmed and tired and feel that I'm failing a lot. I don't have the patience I should have with a toddler. I can't find the time to take care of myself. Some days, it's a miracle that I remember to brush my teeth.
But I am blessed with an amazing group of friends who help. They help me when I ask for it, but more importantly, I've got friends who help me when I don't ask for it. While I'm confessing my sins here, let me also say that I am a prideful person. And I abhor asking for help. There are few things I hate more. I feel, a lot of times, like asking for help is an admission of my inadequacy or my inability to handle it all. That is incredibly stupid, and I know it. And yet, I still feel that way. I also feel guilty for asking for help because I feel like I am imposing upon people when this is all my responsibility anyway. But my friends know this about me, and they love me anyway. So they force their help upon me. They organize freezer meals for me. They threaten to take one or both of my children for a few hours so that I will rest. They bring me supper and hold Anna so that I can eat. They ignore my polite requests that they go home to their own families, my insistence that I'm really fine, and they play with Juliet while I try to quiet a screaming Anna. They don't go to the grocery without texting me to see if I need anything from Publix. They drop what they're doing and come take care of Anna so that I can try to sleep off a sinus infection.
A friend in NYC, Lynsley, has been referring to her "framily" a lot. These are the family who are friends and the friends who are family. The friends who are so helpful to me these days are my framily. They are the most wonderful mix of friends and family, spanning two generations, and they are the best women I know. Thank you. I could not do this without you.
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