Mom in a Box

Ladies... do you remember where you were the last time you had this thought, "I'll just hole up for a few months, do my own thing, and repair this broken heart..."?  Well I remember, it was indeed 2000 and something and I was feeling the pain, oh the pain!  I just couldn't get a grip on all the hurt inflicted upon me by... well me.  Really now, how many boyfriends was this now that I had dumped?  The tragedy of it! How would I ever survive this (self induced) torture?  Vodka!  Vodka and good night times, thats how.

It was during the last one of those trying trials in my life that I felt it justified to go ahead and sleep with the first blue eyed boy I ran across.  To give myself a little credit, he had to have more than just blue eyes... blonde hair and a healthy body fat percentage was preferable to my delicate sensitivities.  Indeed, I found him.  And indeed, I jumped right in to a military issued bunk bed with him. Yes, the bottom bunk.

It is 15 months later and I'm drifting around my 'army housing' bungalow picking up the last of my blue-eyed baby girl's toys, burp clothes, and other various little girl survival tools. There is even one last load of hers in the dryer to fold and for the life of me I can't open that dryer door.  I've been sitting here for three days waiting for the laundry folding fairy to show up and take care of this agonizing task for me.

So this is the real heartbreak; the kind I might have read about somewhere.  All these years I swore I was slowly dwindling of sheer agony.  Would I ever get it right?  Would I ever make the right 'man choice'?  Yet,  in all those years I never felt the genuine heartbreak of a this is the best for you but not for me kind of decision.  Selflessness hurts a hell of a lot more than selfishness...who knew??

Three days ago, I sent my girl off to stay with Oma, Opa, and her Tante Emma.  They have a big beautiful house, amazing dogs, a salt water pool oasis in the backyard, and all the time and adoration in the world for their first granddaughter.  It is the best decision considering the upheaval and flux I'm experiencing with work and mission here in Germany. 12 hours a day with even the best of babysitters is too much for a 6 month old.  But man, San Antonio is 5,385 miles away from where I sit... avoiding eye contact with my dryer.

Now I am Mommy in the Box.  You know... the little box your image pops up in when video chatting on google mail. I do suspect that Baby Eila is wondering where the phone is; the one that should be towards her right side bolted to the booth wall. I keep telling her to pick it up before she starts gurgling her morning greetings at me.  She keeps looking at me as a possible target for her prunes and oatmeal delicacy.  In essence, I feel like a criminal and Eila feels like her mom was eaten by the computer monster.

On the other hand.... this is not a 12 month deployment.  This is two months of wrapping up loose ends and setting up a new home for Eila and me in San Antonio.  This is two months of packing, running (or a variation of), playing sergeant, and most importantly ignoring dryers and misplaced teething rings. This is being thankful that I have an amazing and able family to lean on.

Full disclosure: I often feel like an empty little ghost floating around this apartment.  But when I can catch myself in those moments it is not so difficult to pull myself back down to a hard and cold surface.  I can't aim for the soft and warm fluff of my bed or the couch because that's where all my self delusion lies in wait.  Hard and cold... it keeps me awake, it keeps me on an edge, it continually reminds me that these big girl choices are painful and at the same time they are me at my best.