I can officially be excited. The military has made a decision and passed down the final word and I am free to do my happy dance. We have received the DATE AND TIME we can meet our soldiers. They will be taking a bus to meet us at their drill hall. The small town will be packed with people to welcome home our 60 or so soldiers.
I am so grateful that I haven't lost the ability to be this excited and happy! I was really starting to doubt myself, but the second I read the email my heart leaped. My heart hasn't stopped racing for the last hour. He is coming home. Finally.
So much to do! Finish cleaning the house. Finish lesson plans and preparations for a substitute teacher for 2 days. Watch 1 or 2 chick flicks that I know my husband won't watch- I have to do it while I can! Clean all the stuff out of my car so my husband and his army duffel can fit in it. Act normal and stick to the schedule so I don't freak out and overwhelm my daughter. Get the welcome home outfits (hers and mine) ready. One of us will be wearing a yellow tu-tu. And because my style is nothing even close to Carrie Bradshaw, it will not be me. Stop having anxiety dreams about being late and forgetting the tu-tu. Oh, and sleep. Sleep? When will there be time for that?
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Sunday, February 21, 2010
A lot has changed
To manage stress you have to change your thinking. Orchids, and military families, bloom under stress. Rocking chairs relieve stress. A lot can change in six years. These are the bits of wisdom I learned today at an event to help prepare military families for their soldier's reintegration process.
I was struck by how much the military and our government have learned about soldiers and reintegration in six years. In 2004, the briefing I received was put together by my FRG (Family Readiness Group). At the time I thought it was informative and helpful. It was in a school gymnasium. I sat on wooden bleachers and took notes. We were lucky they provided us with as much information as they did. We needed every bit of it.
Soon after the unit returned home I witnessed many soldiers loose themselves to alcohol and/or depression, my husband included. The unit had lost FOUR soldiers during their year long deployment. FOUR. They had spent a year never feeling safe. They wanted to get back to life and catch up on the time they missed, but for most it wasn't easy. Their brains wouldn't let go of the images of the past year. There was no external organization monitoring the unit or getting them help. Eventually most soldiers found the courage to seek help. They did this because they helped each other. Many were treated for Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Soldiers recognized it in each other and encouraged trips to the VA for support.
My husband was one of them. Always an extrovert, I remember his sudden discomfort in a crowd. I remember his short temper and irritation at everything. I remember his disinterest in being with friends or doing things he used to enjoy. I remember his difficulty sleeping. When I got in or out of bed he would often startle and not know who I was or where he was. I felt like I was torturing him when I'd return to bed from the bathroom or when I'd try to give him a goodbye kiss on my way to work. So, I started making kissing sounds to announce my presence. I figured kissing sounds wouldn't trigger any war flashbacks or bad thoughts. I hoped they also wouldn't unnecessarily wake him up. It worked. As long as I remembered to kiss the air on my way into bed, he slept unaffected by my movements. He told me that driving was challenging, because in Iraq roadside garbage and dead animals often contained explosives. We planned our marriage (The wedding was 4 months after he returned) and got through things there was no manual for.
Six years later there is still no manual, but there is so much more information and support. Today's event included numerous speakers and booths with free books, pamphlets, and information. The room was full of experts ready to support military families and soldiers. We have 2 more of these events to attend. The soldiers will be expected to sit in a room together and receive information about stress, managing finances, finding a good or better job, suicide prevention, and how to move back into their roles as sons, daughters, moms, dads, and spouses. The irony is that six years ago there were 600 attacks in Iraq daily and today there are 3. An astonishing statistic, but I saw the proof when my husband was home on leave a few months ago. This deployment was easier. Not easy, but easier. He quickly adjusted to civilian life. He seemed like himself from the minute I picked him up at the airport until the minute he left. He drove and slept without complication.
So today I'm thankful for the passage of time. I'm thankful for the information and support available to soldiers. I'm thankful for the support groups that spontaneously form between soldiers and between soldier's families. I'm thankful that I own 2 rocking chairs. I know I'll need them. But most of all, I'm thankful my husband is coming home much more whole than he did six years ago. It's time to bloom.
I was struck by how much the military and our government have learned about soldiers and reintegration in six years. In 2004, the briefing I received was put together by my FRG (Family Readiness Group). At the time I thought it was informative and helpful. It was in a school gymnasium. I sat on wooden bleachers and took notes. We were lucky they provided us with as much information as they did. We needed every bit of it.
Soon after the unit returned home I witnessed many soldiers loose themselves to alcohol and/or depression, my husband included. The unit had lost FOUR soldiers during their year long deployment. FOUR. They had spent a year never feeling safe. They wanted to get back to life and catch up on the time they missed, but for most it wasn't easy. Their brains wouldn't let go of the images of the past year. There was no external organization monitoring the unit or getting them help. Eventually most soldiers found the courage to seek help. They did this because they helped each other. Many were treated for Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Soldiers recognized it in each other and encouraged trips to the VA for support.
My husband was one of them. Always an extrovert, I remember his sudden discomfort in a crowd. I remember his short temper and irritation at everything. I remember his disinterest in being with friends or doing things he used to enjoy. I remember his difficulty sleeping. When I got in or out of bed he would often startle and not know who I was or where he was. I felt like I was torturing him when I'd return to bed from the bathroom or when I'd try to give him a goodbye kiss on my way to work. So, I started making kissing sounds to announce my presence. I figured kissing sounds wouldn't trigger any war flashbacks or bad thoughts. I hoped they also wouldn't unnecessarily wake him up. It worked. As long as I remembered to kiss the air on my way into bed, he slept unaffected by my movements. He told me that driving was challenging, because in Iraq roadside garbage and dead animals often contained explosives. We planned our marriage (The wedding was 4 months after he returned) and got through things there was no manual for.
Six years later there is still no manual, but there is so much more information and support. Today's event included numerous speakers and booths with free books, pamphlets, and information. The room was full of experts ready to support military families and soldiers. We have 2 more of these events to attend. The soldiers will be expected to sit in a room together and receive information about stress, managing finances, finding a good or better job, suicide prevention, and how to move back into their roles as sons, daughters, moms, dads, and spouses. The irony is that six years ago there were 600 attacks in Iraq daily and today there are 3. An astonishing statistic, but I saw the proof when my husband was home on leave a few months ago. This deployment was easier. Not easy, but easier. He quickly adjusted to civilian life. He seemed like himself from the minute I picked him up at the airport until the minute he left. He drove and slept without complication.
So today I'm thankful for the passage of time. I'm thankful for the information and support available to soldiers. I'm thankful for the support groups that spontaneously form between soldiers and between soldier's families. I'm thankful that I own 2 rocking chairs. I know I'll need them. But most of all, I'm thankful my husband is coming home much more whole than he did six years ago. It's time to bloom.
Friday, February 19, 2010
Interruptions
We were finishing dinner and the phone rang. The caller ID listed one of those strange numbers with lots of zeros. I've learned to recognize those as calls from Iraq. I excitedly told my daughter it might be Daddy calling. I said "might" because sometimes it disconnects and we don't get to talk to him. It didn't disconnect, but... it wasn't Daddy. It was a phone call from my Alma mater. (Why does a university come up on caller ID with a phone number similar to a call from the other side of the world? They are only 20 minutes away from me.) The chatty college student asked, "Hi! How are you?" I was brutally honest. "I'm so disappointed. I saw caller ID and thought you were my husband calling from Iraq." She was sympathetic. Then she went into her persuasive monologue. I caved and donated. She caught me at a weak moment.
Earlier this week a survey company called, asking for my husband (by name). After hearing that he wasn't here, the man asked to talk to any other veterans from the Iraq or Afghanistan wars. (As if I keep spare veterans lined up on the couch to receive such phone calls!) I started LAUGHING and reported that my veteran was still over there so wouldn't be able to come to the phone. The absurdity and ironic timing of this phone call struck me as hilarious. The caller thought I was nuts and he got off the phone pretty quickly.
Today, while in a meeting (not while teaching kids) my cell phone rang (oops! I have to remember to silence it). It was a long distance number I didn't recognize. I answered. Ta-da! It was my husband. He thought it was Saturday and had no idea he interrupted my work day.
The last time he called not knowing the day or time was during his first deployment five years ago. In fact, many calls were like that. I'd tell him the day and time here. Then I'd help figure out the time there because he really had no idea. Those calls were often alarming and emotional. I never knew when to expect them. He could call in the middle of the night, middle of my teaching day, during the one opera performance I ever went to see, or any other time he happened to get to a phone. He would be sleep deprived from long missions. The call would disconnect many times. This created a ten minute phone conversation that took place in 8 different calls with lots of wait time as he redialed. We'd have no idea when we could talk again. So, I'd try to say "I love you" during each segment of the call.
Today's phone call reminded me of how much easier this deployment has been. (Maybe it wasn't even a reminder. I'm not sure I took time to reflect on this in the last year. "Easier" still isn't easy.) In the last year I have not received any phone calls that caused me to worry about his immediate safety. Not once did I get a phone call telling me about attacks or casualties. Most phone calls have occurred at planned and expected times. Most phone calls actually occurred on the computer so I got to SEE and hear him. His confusion and the unexpected timing of today's call had nothing to do with danger, sleep deprivation, or war. He lost track of the days because he's been sleeping, eating McDonald's, and laying around for hours. IN KUWAIT. My husband is one country closer to home. He's safe, excited, and boarding a plane soon. His voice sounded closer.
Finally! The interruption I've been waiting for.
Earlier this week a survey company called, asking for my husband (by name). After hearing that he wasn't here, the man asked to talk to any other veterans from the Iraq or Afghanistan wars. (As if I keep spare veterans lined up on the couch to receive such phone calls!) I started LAUGHING and reported that my veteran was still over there so wouldn't be able to come to the phone. The absurdity and ironic timing of this phone call struck me as hilarious. The caller thought I was nuts and he got off the phone pretty quickly.
Today, while in a meeting (not while teaching kids) my cell phone rang (oops! I have to remember to silence it). It was a long distance number I didn't recognize. I answered. Ta-da! It was my husband. He thought it was Saturday and had no idea he interrupted my work day.
The last time he called not knowing the day or time was during his first deployment five years ago. In fact, many calls were like that. I'd tell him the day and time here. Then I'd help figure out the time there because he really had no idea. Those calls were often alarming and emotional. I never knew when to expect them. He could call in the middle of the night, middle of my teaching day, during the one opera performance I ever went to see, or any other time he happened to get to a phone. He would be sleep deprived from long missions. The call would disconnect many times. This created a ten minute phone conversation that took place in 8 different calls with lots of wait time as he redialed. We'd have no idea when we could talk again. So, I'd try to say "I love you" during each segment of the call.
Today's phone call reminded me of how much easier this deployment has been. (Maybe it wasn't even a reminder. I'm not sure I took time to reflect on this in the last year. "Easier" still isn't easy.) In the last year I have not received any phone calls that caused me to worry about his immediate safety. Not once did I get a phone call telling me about attacks or casualties. Most phone calls have occurred at planned and expected times. Most phone calls actually occurred on the computer so I got to SEE and hear him. His confusion and the unexpected timing of today's call had nothing to do with danger, sleep deprivation, or war. He lost track of the days because he's been sleeping, eating McDonald's, and laying around for hours. IN KUWAIT. My husband is one country closer to home. He's safe, excited, and boarding a plane soon. His voice sounded closer.
Finally! The interruption I've been waiting for.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Dr. Jekyl and Mr. Hyde prepare for Daddy's return
My daughter is acting out Daddy's homecoming in every way possible. She got a new toothbrush. Suddenly it was Daddy toothbrush and the old toothbrush was so happy Daddy was there. This dialogue between the toothbrushes continued for a minute or two.
Have you ever seen a toothbrush hug another toothbrush? I have. It was actually a 3 way hug. Mommy toothbrush was involved too. (Which I'll consider a good sign because tonight my darling child said, "I like Daddy. I don't like you.") Last night she also acted out a Daddy/Child reunion with 2 chips. AND her baby doll just learned its first word. Yup you guessed it- "Daddy". (Baby can almost say "Mama"- another good sign.)
On the flip side, my daughter is sleeping horribly. She wakes up having night terrors (irritated and upset and inconsolable). One night terror was directed at her pillow. So, I took her pillow out and helped her calm down. After some time she laid down and fell asleep. Thirty minutes later she awoke and was irate at me for taking away her pillow. Irate at me sums up a lot of her feeling lately. All her unexplainable, confused emotions hurtled at me full speed. Unless she's cuddling and telling me she loves me or having me make phone calls with her foot. (This is a great time. I have conversations on her foot and we both shake with laughter!)
I can't blame her back and forth behavior. I've been displaying some of that myself.
I've stopped taking care of bills. He's almost home. I just can't muster the energy to open these last envelopes and figure out what needs to happen. Pathetic I know. Maybe writing about it will shame me into taking care of it. Probably not.
I did find the energy to vacuum the whole house. It's getting closer to the "Welcome Home!" state I want it to be in. (I no longer trip on piles of dog hair.)
Some nights I'm eating healthy and trying to make myself do push ups before bed (My husband is in the best physical shape he's ever been in. Me? Not so much. On a good night I do ten pushups. From my knees.) Other nights I'm sitting on the couch eating cookies I made to share with my daughter, but I can eat faster than she can, so I get more. Not my proudest moments, but if you had tasted the cookies you'd understand! (I haven't become a baker. They were given to me premade. I just have to bake them.)
I had my own bad dream last night. A giant turtle was trying to get in my car. And guess what? I was sitting in the passenger seat- right where I WANT to be. That thing was massive and had whiskers and my foot was stuck in the door. Awful. My alarm went off and rescued me. (I've never had any fear of turtles! I've never really given them any thought.)
Annie made me cry tonight. The closing song, "Together at Last" hit so close to home. Daddy Warbucks and Annie are singing, "I don't need anyone, anyone, anyone but you!" Then there was a 3 (almost 4) way hug between Daddy Warbucks, Annie, Grace, and Sandy the dog. They were so happy. All their awful problems were behind them (or in the case of evil Ms. Hannigan, drunk on top of an elephant).
What a perfectly fitting song! Our fears of turtles and pillows will evaporate when we get to sing that song together. Hopefully so will all (most?) of our odd behaviors. (**WARNING TO MY HUSBAND- we are so wrapped up in that song and that moment, that we might expect you to recreate the tap dance/singing performance. Aren't ALL happy moments celebrated with a song and choreographed dance? We think so! It doesn't matter if you know the words. We'll teach you. Please come home anyway. Soon. Otherwise it might be me drunk on an elephant.**)
Have you ever seen a toothbrush hug another toothbrush? I have. It was actually a 3 way hug. Mommy toothbrush was involved too. (Which I'll consider a good sign because tonight my darling child said, "I like Daddy. I don't like you.") Last night she also acted out a Daddy/Child reunion with 2 chips. AND her baby doll just learned its first word. Yup you guessed it- "Daddy". (Baby can almost say "Mama"- another good sign.)
On the flip side, my daughter is sleeping horribly. She wakes up having night terrors (irritated and upset and inconsolable). One night terror was directed at her pillow. So, I took her pillow out and helped her calm down. After some time she laid down and fell asleep. Thirty minutes later she awoke and was irate at me for taking away her pillow. Irate at me sums up a lot of her feeling lately. All her unexplainable, confused emotions hurtled at me full speed. Unless she's cuddling and telling me she loves me or having me make phone calls with her foot. (This is a great time. I have conversations on her foot and we both shake with laughter!)
I can't blame her back and forth behavior. I've been displaying some of that myself.
I've stopped taking care of bills. He's almost home. I just can't muster the energy to open these last envelopes and figure out what needs to happen. Pathetic I know. Maybe writing about it will shame me into taking care of it. Probably not.
I did find the energy to vacuum the whole house. It's getting closer to the "Welcome Home!" state I want it to be in. (I no longer trip on piles of dog hair.)
Some nights I'm eating healthy and trying to make myself do push ups before bed (My husband is in the best physical shape he's ever been in. Me? Not so much. On a good night I do ten pushups. From my knees.) Other nights I'm sitting on the couch eating cookies I made to share with my daughter, but I can eat faster than she can, so I get more. Not my proudest moments, but if you had tasted the cookies you'd understand! (I haven't become a baker. They were given to me premade. I just have to bake them.)
I had my own bad dream last night. A giant turtle was trying to get in my car. And guess what? I was sitting in the passenger seat- right where I WANT to be. That thing was massive and had whiskers and my foot was stuck in the door. Awful. My alarm went off and rescued me. (I've never had any fear of turtles! I've never really given them any thought.)
Annie made me cry tonight. The closing song, "Together at Last" hit so close to home. Daddy Warbucks and Annie are singing, "I don't need anyone, anyone, anyone but you!" Then there was a 3 (almost 4) way hug between Daddy Warbucks, Annie, Grace, and Sandy the dog. They were so happy. All their awful problems were behind them (or in the case of evil Ms. Hannigan, drunk on top of an elephant).
What a perfectly fitting song! Our fears of turtles and pillows will evaporate when we get to sing that song together. Hopefully so will all (most?) of our odd behaviors. (**WARNING TO MY HUSBAND- we are so wrapped up in that song and that moment, that we might expect you to recreate the tap dance/singing performance. Aren't ALL happy moments celebrated with a song and choreographed dance? We think so! It doesn't matter if you know the words. We'll teach you. Please come home anyway. Soon. Otherwise it might be me drunk on an elephant.**)
Sunday, February 14, 2010
The forecast
Sometimes meteorologists can predict the weather exactly right and sometimes they couldn't be more wrong. Deployment is like that, but instead of meteorologists there are moodologists. Moodologists can be friends, family, coworkers, strangers. They try to forecast your emotions based on the facts of deployment. I often become a moodlogist for myself. It helps to see sadness, depression, distraction, or exhaustion approaching on the radar map. Just like a tornado warning, a mood warning gives you time to gather the necessities, change plans, and hunker down until the storm passes.
There are times when the moods and stress levels can be quite accurately predicted. Everyone knows that the first weeks of deployment are hard. You have to be on automatic pilot to get through the days. You might cry a lot or feel pretty numb. Holidays are hard. Watching the news can be scary.
Then there are the sunny spots! Phone calls from your soldier are moments to be celebrated. Packages from Daddy can make an entire week thrilling. Surviving a particularly challenging week, day, or moment can also guarantee a feeling of hope and success- like a rainbow. These moments have emotional reactions that seem scientifically predictable and explainable.
Then, there are those unpredictable surprise moods. The undetected tornado. Sometimes my mood doesn't match the forecast. I've known my husband's approximate homecoming date for about a month. The moodologists predict excitement, relief, happiness, euphoria. When people ask, "So when is he coming home?" and I give the estimated date, the standard answer is, "You must be so excited!"
Yeah, I MUST be excited, but why don't I feel it? I know it's in there somewhere. Ugh. On top of not meeting the excitement expectation I have guilt too. Guilt that I'm not feeling what everyone else tells me I should be feeling. Instead I feel tired and ready to give up. I'm forgetful and distracted. I'm unorganized and I no longer follow my trusty schedule as closely as I should.
There is some comfort in the fact that my daughter is also exhibiting out of whack responses to things. She no longer wants to make videos for Daddy. In some ways she is uninterested in communicating with him. When he calls on the computer, she still enthusiastically says, "Hi Daddy!" but she doesn't excitedly tell him stories or show him things or even sit still for him. She just keeps playing or eating or torturing the dog.
I frequently suggest we make a video for Daddy. She tells me she'll just show him when he gets home. He will be home soon, but not soon enough to see the sticker tattoo, headband and pink glove combination she added to her outfit today. She no longer finds comfort in watching videos of Daddy, or looking at pictures of him. Sometimes she doesn't want Daddy doll around. I know she's not rejecting Daddy. Instead she's rejecting all the substitutes for Daddy. She tells me, "I miss my REAL Daddy." I give her space and don't push too hard. When she's ready I give her a hug and assure her that he's coming home. She's a tough kid and overall she seems pretty well balanced, even if her reactions and behaviors no longer match what we've come to expect.
Maybe I'm well balanced, too. The Wii Fit tells me I'm "unbalanced", but maybe that is yet another incorrect reading of my experience.
I tell people the estimated homecoming date numerous times a day. "Yes that IS soon!" I agree, hoping my voice shows the appropriate amount of excitement. But I don't feel anything when I say the date or think about it. I'm just sharing facts and having no personal reaction.
Until today.
We were driving home in a snowstorm. The roads were icy. My daughter was requesting snacks and music. The dog was sleeping in the passenger seat. Suddenly I felt it. Butterflies of excitement in the pit of my stomach. HE'S COMING HOME. SOON. I let myself start picturing the buses arriving with all the soldiers. The first embrace. The sheer joy on my daughter's face when she runs into Daddy's arms. I let myself start fantasizing about taking my dog's place. Soon enough I can be the one asleep in the passenger seat because my husband will be taking back his job as family driver. I pictured life after deployment and it looks good. Really good.
Then I hit a patch of ice and the butterflies of excitement turned to knots in my stomach as I gripped the steering wheel and focused on getting us home safely. We got home, unpacked, and went through the nightly routine. It may have been automatic, but we were both happy. Excited? Nope, that was gone, but I don't mind. I know it's there and it will be back. Excitement is in the forecast.
There are times when the moods and stress levels can be quite accurately predicted. Everyone knows that the first weeks of deployment are hard. You have to be on automatic pilot to get through the days. You might cry a lot or feel pretty numb. Holidays are hard. Watching the news can be scary.
Then there are the sunny spots! Phone calls from your soldier are moments to be celebrated. Packages from Daddy can make an entire week thrilling. Surviving a particularly challenging week, day, or moment can also guarantee a feeling of hope and success- like a rainbow. These moments have emotional reactions that seem scientifically predictable and explainable.
Then, there are those unpredictable surprise moods. The undetected tornado. Sometimes my mood doesn't match the forecast. I've known my husband's approximate homecoming date for about a month. The moodologists predict excitement, relief, happiness, euphoria. When people ask, "So when is he coming home?" and I give the estimated date, the standard answer is, "You must be so excited!"
Yeah, I MUST be excited, but why don't I feel it? I know it's in there somewhere. Ugh. On top of not meeting the excitement expectation I have guilt too. Guilt that I'm not feeling what everyone else tells me I should be feeling. Instead I feel tired and ready to give up. I'm forgetful and distracted. I'm unorganized and I no longer follow my trusty schedule as closely as I should.
There is some comfort in the fact that my daughter is also exhibiting out of whack responses to things. She no longer wants to make videos for Daddy. In some ways she is uninterested in communicating with him. When he calls on the computer, she still enthusiastically says, "Hi Daddy!" but she doesn't excitedly tell him stories or show him things or even sit still for him. She just keeps playing or eating or torturing the dog.
I frequently suggest we make a video for Daddy. She tells me she'll just show him when he gets home. He will be home soon, but not soon enough to see the sticker tattoo, headband and pink glove combination she added to her outfit today. She no longer finds comfort in watching videos of Daddy, or looking at pictures of him. Sometimes she doesn't want Daddy doll around. I know she's not rejecting Daddy. Instead she's rejecting all the substitutes for Daddy. She tells me, "I miss my REAL Daddy." I give her space and don't push too hard. When she's ready I give her a hug and assure her that he's coming home. She's a tough kid and overall she seems pretty well balanced, even if her reactions and behaviors no longer match what we've come to expect.
Maybe I'm well balanced, too. The Wii Fit tells me I'm "unbalanced", but maybe that is yet another incorrect reading of my experience.
I tell people the estimated homecoming date numerous times a day. "Yes that IS soon!" I agree, hoping my voice shows the appropriate amount of excitement. But I don't feel anything when I say the date or think about it. I'm just sharing facts and having no personal reaction.
Until today.
We were driving home in a snowstorm. The roads were icy. My daughter was requesting snacks and music. The dog was sleeping in the passenger seat. Suddenly I felt it. Butterflies of excitement in the pit of my stomach. HE'S COMING HOME. SOON. I let myself start picturing the buses arriving with all the soldiers. The first embrace. The sheer joy on my daughter's face when she runs into Daddy's arms. I let myself start fantasizing about taking my dog's place. Soon enough I can be the one asleep in the passenger seat because my husband will be taking back his job as family driver. I pictured life after deployment and it looks good. Really good.
Then I hit a patch of ice and the butterflies of excitement turned to knots in my stomach as I gripped the steering wheel and focused on getting us home safely. We got home, unpacked, and went through the nightly routine. It may have been automatic, but we were both happy. Excited? Nope, that was gone, but I don't mind. I know it's there and it will be back. Excitement is in the forecast.
Monday, February 8, 2010
The season of unanswerable questions
I'm getting a lot of questions. Unanswerable questions. When is he getting home? What does he have to do before he comes home? Will there be a homecoming ceremony? Will he be deployed again? When could that be? What will he do when he gets home? How soon will he go back to work? Unanswerable questions mean that the end of this deployment is FINALLY approaching! As the days go by, the volume of questions increases exponentially. Unfortunately, the answers still haven't arrived.
I like to be the one with answers. When I don't have an answer I figure it out or make it up. I can't do that now and I'm finding it hard to not have answers. I need a clever response so that I don't have to use those three dreaded words- I don't know.
I could try:
"Time will tell."
"It's a secret."
"Ask the Magic 8 Ball."
or in the spirit of my husband's sense of humor, I could give a random answer like, "Blue".
Any suggestions?
I like to be the one with answers. When I don't have an answer I figure it out or make it up. I can't do that now and I'm finding it hard to not have answers. I need a clever response so that I don't have to use those three dreaded words- I don't know.
I could try:
"Time will tell."
"It's a secret."
"Ask the Magic 8 Ball."
or in the spirit of my husband's sense of humor, I could give a random answer like, "Blue".
Any suggestions?
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