It has been an emotional few days.
I have been emotional. A 5.4 on the PD register currently has my husband at around number 90-something. His new 5.4 would put him at 130-something out of 199. He will be on the register another 18 months. If he worked on German some more and passed, he could get a 5.57, not necessarily good enough to get called. A critical needs language would bump his score .4, but he would be starting from 0. How much effort and time would that take? Spending time on a language would mean more hours spent studying, away from me, away from the kids. He would spend more time focusing on where he wants to be, other than here, with me, with us. As if here is not worth being happy about. As if life is not happening right now.
Which brings me to the meltdown I had in the hotel room in DC.
I was looking out the window, watching the cars go by, thinking about this 5.4. Thinking about what it means. Thinking of the bedtimes when the kids asked if Dada was at German class, or if Dada had a study group or if Dada had a Skype session. Thinking about the blogs and livelines messages I've read. The husbands doing unaccompanied tours, the mysterious medical illnesses, the houses being bugged and under surveillance, the insects and animals, the packing and unpacking, the stuff being lost and damaged, the bleaching of vegetables, the parasites in intestines, the missed weddings, funerals, graduations and grandparents, the feeling of longing for a home. And I started crying and I said, "I do not want this."
Maybe I'm just overwhelmed by the magnitude of the whole OA experience and am too quick to speak. Maybe?
Who knows. I cried a lot. Tears score: 6.3
We are back from DC. We are Home. Capital H, Home. The kids ran to the car and hugged us. The dog wagged and smiled his doggie smile. I don't know what's next. But I know we are in it together.