Don't forget your...

My husband has a lot on his plate. Not his real dinner "plate." His life "plate."

I mean don't we all?

I do a fair bit of reminding. If you call me a "nag" I will drop-kick your ass. Be warned.

But he forgets things. He has gotten to the check-out line of the grocery store (after filling the cart) and realized he has no wallet. He has taken both my car keys and his car keys when I needed to go somewhere with the three kids, leaving me stranded. (I borrowed a neighbor's car.) He packs and forgets his lunch regularly. He forgets his glasses and cell phone at least once a week and drives down the block then returns. My five-year-old daughter says, "Hi, Dada! What did you forget, Dada? Your glasses? Cell phone?"
I love him.

So here's me yesterday morning as he's heading out the door for work:

Do you have your lunch?
Do you have your briefcase?
Do you have your wallet?
Do you have your keys?
Do you have your German homework?
Do you have your cell phone?

Seven-year-old S was nearby, eating his breakfast. He's funny. Here he is at a Revolutionary War Fort.

So, as I am questioning my husband, S jumps in, "Do you have your Barack Obama mask?"

???!!!???
And I just started cracking up. And then S starts laughing.
My husband kind of looked sideways at S.
Then S said, "Dada, don't forget your Abraham Lincoln hat."

And we laughed. 

Then S said. "Don't forget your bazooka."

Then S and I started just adding goofy things. And laughing.

Don't forget your banjo. 

Don't forget your snorkel.

Don't forget your coconut bra. 

Don't forget your sting ray.

Don't forget your car.

Don't forget your watermelon.

Don't forget your machete. 

Don't forget your drum kit.

Quill pen.

Stethoscope.

Rollerskates.

Binoculars.

Pole vault.

Pommel horse.

Beef jerky/ turkey jerky.

Flattened cardboard for break dancing...

By this time my husband had long ago left for work. S and I were still laughing and adding things and laughing. 

It was a late night for my husband. After work he had German tutoring and then a different German speaking group. I call it "Double German Night." My husband gets home after the kids are in bed. So I get the kids off the bus, help them do homework, make dinner, do baths and showers, books, snuggling, etc. Earlier, as the kids and I were walking the dog through the woods, we were laughing about the funny list of things for Dada to take to work. And we started adding more silly things, and laughing more. (You can only imagine the list.) And I thought how sad it is that my husband is missing out on these great moments. These funny kids. This is life. Happening right now. It's passing by as he spends hours, days, weeks, a year (will it be years?) trying to get this job. It's a job! And is it a job that will mess up our lives? Will it leave us with a dad who works 15 hour days, living in housing with too few beds, with bugs, with isolation, with no woods in which to play? But at least if he gets the job we will have prepared the list of things he should take in his briefcase for the first day of work. I'd like to see the faces on the security guards at FSI for that one. Really, dude, a coconut bra?!