Running around like a headless chicken tonight, I realize that
a) the house will never be clean "enough"
b) nobody will care tomorrow
and
c) by Monday anything I did would be trashed again anyway (who am I kidding - by tomorrow).
So we work on "normal" tasks like bathtime and bedtime and brushing teeth. Here's to hoping that the kids sleep through the night in their own beds tonight. Here's to hoping they sleep at all. And here's to hoping some lame pencil pusher doesn't decide that one more day is no big deal.
Why should the last day/night of deployment be as difficult as the first? I don't understand it but it always seems to be the way. The kids are a bit more honery, I'm a bit more tense, things break and don't work the way they should. (You run out of alcohol except for the nasty Bud Light that you put in the fridge for him tomorrow.)
Ugh, make it through the night, fall into his arms tomorrow afternoon and sleep for three days as if the last eight months were just a bad dream...
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