I found some pictures

Clearing off the kitchen counter last night, I found a Walgreens pack of pictures tucked behind the cannisters. Shows you how often I move those...

So I crack them open, seeing what photos my mom has left during her last trip. Bless her, she loves to take pictures. Bless her, she takes horrible pictures. But I love her.

No, these are pictures from right after The Husband came home from Iraq...and I just sat down and looked at them. Don't know how long they have been behind the cannisters...I do clean back there more than once every three years or so.

They were the pics of their Deployment Homecoming...him walking down the street at the head of the company...or troop...or whatever...can't remember. I think Troop. But anyway...and I remembered just how proud, and relieved I was the day he came home.

There was the picture someone snapped of us meeting on the parade field. I remember grabbing his jacket (I know it is a blouse...but that is something a woman wears, not a soldier, so I won't call it a blouse) and yanking him towards me...yelling 'Here we are!' while at the same time practically shoving a pouting nearly 10 month old at him...that he hadn't seen since he was a week old.

I have that photo of my husband standing there, all choked up, holding Our Son that he barely had met to begin with, and me smiling up at them.

Then the pic of The Chubby Infant reaching up to grab the acorns on his Cav Stetson...just very matter of factly...and my husband laughing.

Oh God.

How I cherish that picture, and how I hate that picture.

It just reminds me of that long separation and me wanting him here sooo badly while Our Son did all of his firsts. I tried to catch them all with my camera. Kiddo has his picture taken with every single outfit he put on. During bath, during sleep, during crying jags, constantly snapping pictures and uploading and emailing. This was before Facebook was hot...that would have been a heck of a lot easier.

It reminds me of sitting in the living room floor and crying hysterically because The Chubby Screaming Infant wouldn't stop crying and I was alone. Utterly and overwhelmingly ALONE. And depressed. And alone.

It reminds me of crying on the phone with The Husband on Thanksgiving because we had just done our first Skype and I couldn't take it. I just bawled for hours...it was a terrible Thanksgiving. We didn't Skype any more after that. I couldn't handle it.

It reminds me of that month leading up to him coming home. How I just WANTED him there. Come home. Just Come Home. You've finished the job, count the damned Humvees, sign the papers and GET HOME.

It reminds of the most terrifying, most roller coaster, most unbelievable 10 months of my life. We were supposed to do this together. We had done everything else together...but this was taken away from us...for whatever reason. We are not alone in this, military families do it everyday, but I like to wallow in it every now and again. My husband missed so much, and had so much to catch up on...and I had to learn to let things slide.

But then, I see how happy my Husband looks...like the weight of the world is off of his shoulders as Our Son reaches up and grabs those damned Cav Stetson acorns. He looks so....soooo...so unbelievably freaking happy. So relieved. My Husband had come home.

And I remember thinking 'Oh wow...it's over' and crying...and smiling...and crying some more. All the time Our Son is looking at The Husband with just pure 'Ok...so you're that guy in the pictures...I need my diaper changed dude'. It was like someone shut a book...THE END.

I love that picture, and I hate that picture..all at the same time. It's weird. I look back on that entire year as one big hot mess that I couldn't control. I am a control freak, and that entire year was a disaster in my book. Honestly, I don't know I did it...but I am really glad I did.

Otherwise you would just get a blog about about my son being on antibiotics and how that is really messing with our Pooping on the Potty routine.