It rains here all the time, regardless of the season.  But something about this rain was different.  This rain was...  fall.  I could sense it.  It was different.  And I had a really intense feeling of hope and optimism as I squinted through my wiper blades.

I think I should bake something.

I spend my free time doing chores, cooking, and browsing the web these days.  And my routine is getting quite boring.

It'll be nice to have something else going on.  I don't mind being a homebody at all.  I just like when there's another adult to do it with me.

No, not really.  I'll of course make it through all of this too.  I just feel like I am finally hitting a total wall and am ready for this to just be behind us.  I'd love nothing more than to sleep through the next month or so.

I can tell he is on the down-slope of it all, too.  We are bickering again, where we hadn't bickered at all the entire time he's been away.  The littlest things all seem so dramatic.  Eggshells abound.

Amaris is pinching my nerves.  Cadence is fussing more than usual.  I am exhausted and stressed out.  And no amount of sleep makes it feel any better.  Everything anybody says to me is subject to extreme scrutinization and potential blowing-out-of-proportion.

I'll survive.  I'll get through this.  I just need to relax and take things as they come.

Mark has been gone for more than four months and we did have a return window, which I was cautiously optimistic about...  But for the moment that window has been taken away and replaced with a giant question mark.  Which really makes me sad and disappointed.  I'm back to being utterly in the dark.  I don't know when he will be home.  Don't even have a clue.  And due to his specific situation right now, I don't even have a clue who to look to for answers about it.  Part of me just wishes he was messing with me and that he'd unexpectedly burst through the door at any moment.  And I'd probably pee my pants and spring up off the couch, Lucy III clattering to the floor, and run to him.  And it would be very classy - me wrapped around him completely with my frumpy pony tail, no bra, oversized t-shirt, dirty socks and pee-soaked yoga pants.  Does that not paint the loveliest picture?

It makes my heart hurt.  Amaris, lately, has really become obsessed with asking questions about him.  Where is he, what is he doing, when will he be home...  And it's exhausting because so frequently I don't know the answers.  How do you keep things simple when they aren't?  How do you explain to your three year old that daddy is far away in a dirty and ugly place doing a job that is dangerous but that fills him with love and pride?  How do you tell her that he'll be safely home again soon, but you don't know when?  She saw a Marine in his cammies one day last week while we were walking from the car to our building and she laughed and said, "Wookit, mommy, he's wearing daddy's."

Being a military wife sucks.  But I think being a military brat must suck even more.  And sometimes, I am thrilled that I brought my children into this lifestyle, with all of the pride and life experience and community that comes with it...  But other times, I feel guilty that my children are experiencing some of the things they face.  It seems so unfair for a child to have to deal with such grown-up things.

I know we'll all be fine.  But sometimes I do struggle and I do feel sad about it.  I guess I just hate to blog about all the sad things, so I haven't blogged at all.  I should get over that.