The waiting is the hardest part.

I broke one of the commandments of being a Marine Wife: Thou shalt not depend on any given date or time of arrival. *sigh* But I did. I depended. Rookie mistake. (Although, this wife isn't so much a 'rookie' anymore. Call it a relapse.) I just got so excited. I requested the two weeks off from work, cleaned the house from top to bottom, spent more money than reasonable at the grocery store, and promised Mateo his daddy was coming home soon. (Thankfully, he's not a little kid who can actually understand the words that are coming out of my mouth...) I was hoping the husband would be home for his R&R on Sunday night. Then it was Monday. Then Tuesday...and now it's sometime at the end of the week. Maybe. I mean, really? It could be the end of next week at the rate we're going. It's the weather. It's mechanical issues. It's idon'treallycarewhatitisbutit'skeepingmefrommyhusband. I now have to cancel dinner with friends and a meeting with the tax man. I'm a little more upset about the former than the latter. On the bright side, our lovely cabin in the wilderness isn't booked until next week so he should be home in plenty of time for that. (Maybe. Probably. Please, God, please.)

A hot tub on the porch overlooking a rocky stream?

YES.

  

I'm trying not to mope too much. Or be too depressed. Or lay on my couch and cry all over my kitty because I'm just.so.disappointed. At least he's still coming home, right? My mother-in-law told me tonight that my husband's dad had an R&R canceled entirely. As in, not coming home AT ALL. She sobbed in the parking lot. I wanted to sob just hearing that story. So, for now, I'm counting my lucky stars (correction: I'm thanking God!) that he's still coming home and I won't have to wait an entire year before I see my husband. The fridge is still full of Diet Mountain Dew. The pantry is stocked with goldfish crackers. I still haven't bitten my nails. (It's been three weeks. That's huge. Really. And it was a surprise so...surprise!) I just have to get through another few days without him. And, hey, I've already gone six months and three weeks. How hard can it be?

Just missing our third.