Day one, then two, then three...

Bethany Actually wrote this post a while ago about the first day of her husbands trip (which he's returned from. YAY Troy!) It really resonated with me. That first day is usually one of the worst. Things start breaking, ants try to take over your house, children act out, it becomes 100 degrees out of the blue. And you are frustrated, but you laugh, cause you knew this would happen.

Yesterday wasn't day one. Friday/Saturday was day one (he went to work Friday, and left from there, which makes the whole thing a little anti climatic, if you know what I mean.) But Friday night, a light wouldn't work, and my sewing machine was slow, and my kids had dinner a my moms, so I couldn't decide what to eat. Saturday was hot, and another light quit working. Sunday was the great ant invasion (a story for another day) and the stress of knowing I really needed to get some work done. Monday was the continuation of the ant invasion, cell phone towers going out, cable going down, and my office being a sauna. None of these things could have been prevented or predicted (well, except the sauna...it's early summer, so my office will be a sauna. In two weeks I'll probably be freezing...lol). And over the course of the last 11 years with my husband, I've learned to let go and have faith.

After we had been married for several years, we fell into a very difficult financial situation (again, another story for another time). DDS left to go to Germany for a short TDY...he wasn't active duty at this time, and was actually unemployed. The day after he left, my car started to die and or septic alarm went off. I had $125 in my checking account to last me for a week, no credit cards, and no savings account. I knew that the alternator in my car needed to be changed...but I wasn't able to handle it. I said a prayer as I traveled into work that day. I asked among my co-workers for suggestions for a cheap on the side mechanic that would be willing to work with me on payment, and found a person willing to do it for a case of beer. I called the septic people and agreed to meet them that afternoon (requiring me to take off work and travel the 45 minutes round trip home and back) and as I walked out the door, I said to my boss "hopefully it will be something simple they can fix for $50 or less." And after watching the man stick a long metal rod into the wet septic opening to catch the wire that had a short (nope, no scary moments there) I happily wrote him the $50 check and said a prayer of thanks.

I've had many more situations since those days. I've always taken care of myself, been one of those people that just sort of plowed through and moved on. I think this is an important trait for a military wife. You have to have a strong sense of self-worth. You have to know that you can handle anything that life throws at you. That doesn't mean that I don't stomp my feet and cry and scream at times. But, once my temper tantrum or moping fit is done, I pull myself up and start solving the problem. It is harder when he isn't here. He is my rock, my shelter, and my support.

The last paragraph in Bethany's post really hit home for me.

"I’ve spent over a thousand nights apart from my husband, thanks to the Navy

and to my own travels, and I know I will be fine. I think Annalie will be

fine too, because of who she is and because I am who I am.
It’s just the first day."

And then it's the second, and then the third, and before we know it, it's over, and he's home.