Survival

Well here I am approaching another weekend. Exciting? Yes, of course. Dreadful? Yep, that too. I still haven't recovered from last weekend. No, really, I mean that.

This week was about survival. I don't want to say survival of the fittest, because that's clearly not how I feel right now. Survival of the hormonal? Survival of the perpetually hungry? At any rate, I found myself just trying to make it to bedtime without absolutely losing it. Big aspirations, I know.

The scene when Braden had to leave last Sunday was just pitiful. Tears all around. Weeping and wailing through the brushing of teeth. This went on for hours. I put Anabelle to bed in his AF undershirt with her new AF bear that he brought home for her. It became clear to me that her increasingly terrible behavior has a lot to do with this whole situation. I knew it was part of the equation but was unsure exactly how much. And now I know. Screams of anger, sobs of sadness, nothing pretty. Now she has this thing where if I am not in her sight she screams her face off and has a little panic attack. Peeing alone? In my dreams. But she is also dreadfully mean to me at all times of the day and night. She is past caring about any form of discipline. She is absolutely not herself. Not sweet, not funny, not happy. It's not good. She tried to make me promise her that when Dad is done with "soldier practice" as she calls it, that he will never ever leave her ever again. Yikes. I promised her that he would spin her around in the laundry basket when he comes home tomorrow. That's pretty much the same thing, right?

But Lila's good with it. She does this fabulous squeal/giggle/scream whenever she hears his voice and otherwise she just drags her dog around the house waiting for bath time and hoping for a cup of juice to get thrown at her.


3 weeks, 3 weeks, 3 weeks, 3 weeks, 3 weeks, 3 weeks, 3 weeks,......



Post-hysterics slumber

...at the mention of "Dad"....