Departure Time: A Military Wife's Perspective

It's that time again. The early AM wake up. Getting the kids dressed while half asleep. Trying to get yourself dressed while half asleep. Somehow managing to remind him about this and that, or other things for yourself from having to ship more things overseas. Everyone haphazardly loading themselves into the car, then it's off to the airport we go...

Now this is not my first "rodeo". I've taken my husband down many times before for training and other such nonsense that his command has signed him up for, or he did willing fully on his own to better his career. Trips are just part of the protocol.

As usually he had to be the one to drive down because I couldn't sleep the entire night before and/or I was already sobbing uncontrollably in the car before we even got down the street. My husband is a good man when it comes to dealing with my crazy. Being 26 weeks pregnant I'm sure this time was even worse than many of our other trips.

We arrived into the parking lot (the whole $10.00 worth of), pull the kids out, drag out his two heavy bags packed with his entire wardrobe and gear, and head into the one place I've been dreading to see for months. The terminal in all it's depressingly cemented glory sucking my family in, only to spit out me and my daughters once his boarding is announced.

Every time we go, we are allotted security passed to let us into the waiting area outside his flight. This allows us at least a couple hours, if that, to still spend time with Daddy before he actually leaves. As always, the girls whine and fuss that they want something from the terminal "Café", and when I call it that, I mean the term loosely. We really have no choice but to purchase food because of TSA regulation and the fact that Admin always schedules his flights at the butt crack of dawn. Luckily this also means minimal people and the kids can be distracted by watching all the planes coming in. Our oldest is usually that one kid who starts screaming, "LOOK! LOOK IT! IT'S LANDING!!".

Eventually time runs out, boarding is called and we give our last heartfelt hugs and kisses.

Our little hoard somehow managed to get back though the terminal without losing anyone or Mom's sanity.

I lost the car. Walked around the parking lot for 30 minutes to finally find it again. My children reminding me that I should remember where we parked next time, only out of the goodness of their little hearts.

As we drove home, I on and off again started balling. My oldest pitching in on occasion with her own crying fit and asking when Dad is coming home (this is usually where we cried together in this mess). My youngest daughter passed out with Peter Pan playing on the video screen in her lap.

After a hefty drive back home I am now trying to keep my mind busy as we prepare soon to leave on our own little adventure up to my parents to spend the summer with them and my cousins.

On and off I will try and pack but loose interest. The key was I had packed all our clothes last night next to Daddy as he packed his bag. Now for just the other small things we'll be taking are left scattered in the closet to go in our duffle.

But I do have some words of "wisdom" to those of you ladies(and gents) who are preparing for your loved ones departure time, day one is always the worst. The next week might even suck as well. It eventually does get better, just be patient. No matter what "trip" this is, they will always be a downer and it never "gets easier" as some like to say, but that's ok too. You will find things to do and that's why God made friends, and the Internet....or that was Bill Gates...but you get my point.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go heat up our Stouffer's Lasagna because I refuse to cry and make dinner. While that cooks I'll be internet browsing more shoes....thank you internet.

Until next time...