So as of yesterday, I'm a single parent.
Sure, that's a scary thing to face but it's not like it wasn't totally unexpected. Such periods of missing spouses are a constant threat in military life.
So we prepare, to the best of our ability, everything that can be prepared prior to departure. The Doctor makes a stop at Costco to buy enough toilet paper for nine months, just in case I forget how to buy it while she's gone. I inform her that the bullets come out of the "dangerous" end of the rifle, just in case she forgets that while she's gone.
We also tell our daughter that Mommy's going far, far away for a trip. I'm lucky that our daughter isn't quite old enough to understand how exactly that will impact her life. She doesn't yet have expectations for that kind of event. It made the separation somewhat easier. It was even easier for my son, who just blew me a raspberry. I'm sure he's fine.
So we prepare, we plan, we conceive of every contingency. Anyone who's ever tried to plan anything important knows what comes next, though.
It was only about 30 hours before I hit my first bump in the road. One situation both The Doctor and I had failed to discuss and plan.
The kids and I were driving to the local farmer's market to shop. From the back seat comes a loud "OH NO!"
Ready to jerk the car to the side of the road, I fire back with "WHAT??"
From my daughter: "I have rocks in my nose!"
My daughter's not crying. But this IS serious. "You have rocks in your nose? Why did you put them up there?"
"I DON'T KNOW!"
"Oh. Well, do you need a tissue because sometimes boogers can be hard..."
"No, listen Daddy, I don't have boogers. I have rocks. Up my nose."
Indeed, I forgot to ask The Doctor what to do in case one child of ours shoves rocks up her own nose. There's still time, though, as my daughter didn't ACTUALLY have rocks up her nose. I'm pretty sure The Doctor reads this. What should I do in the future?
Good luck, dear. We all love you, with rocks or without.
