There I go stereotyping again....

Yesterday I passed a man on a bike. I did not immediately think he was in training for a Tour de Anywhere. That was wrong of me. I should apologize.

So here it goes.

Dear Middle Age Bearded Man with your Camo Hat and Confederate Flag shirt on your 10-Speed holding a Brown Paper Bag roughly the size of a six pack of some beverage.

I judged you and I am sorry for that.

I'm sure you are riding that bike for the health factor, and not because your license has been revoked due to too many DUIs.

Regards,

My Father's Daughter

Looking for the Silver Lining

So I've decided to stop pouting over the departure of the boys and look at the bright side of having them gone. I know it sounds a bit harsh, but you deal how you deal, and I'll deal how I deal. So this is a list so far of how it's not so bad.

1. The amount of laundry I have to do has dramatically decreased. Deuce will put on a fresh pair of socks about 3 times a day. It was worse in the beginning since their lovely, thoughtful mother never packs enough clothes. Unless we are talking about clothes taht don't fit them.
2. I no longer have to pick up socks that have been left throughout the house when Deuce decides to put on a fresh pair.
3. The number of dirty dishes has dramatically decreased. Eldest and Deuce both opperate under the impression that the dish fairy will take care of those glasses for them. That's why they feel free to get a new one out each time they are thirsty.
4. Not one single person in the house uttered the phrase "I'm so thirsty" yesterday. Deuce isn't able to come right out and ask for a drink. No he's more into hinting around.
5. This goes the same for the phrase "I'm so hungry" and Eldest's favorite "What can I have to eat?"
6. Murph didn't argue one bit when I said it was bath time, or tell me that he had had a bath only the day before. I didn't have to make him use the age old disagreement settler of "Rock. Paper, Scissors" to figure out who would be showering. I just started the water and he ran to the bathroom.
7. The house smells better. 9 and 11 year old boys just have an odor about them. Withing ten minutes of them arriving, their room will take on a definite funkiness. I'm not sure how it happens, and can only hope it won't happen with Murph.
8. No one talked about poop, farts, burps, or any other body function. Now I will say that Chief was a bit under the weather, so he wasn't quite up on his game yesterday.
9. No one asked to play the computer or the Wii. No one sighed and muttered how much they wanted to "rock out".
10. I was not "shinged" with a sword, or shot with a nerf bullet once yesterday. Though I did get poked with a stick by Murph as he said Doe! Hmmm.

See. It's not so bad having the little bleeders gone. I'm sure I could think of dozens of good reasons!

Of course I don't think Murph is quite as convinced. He tried to go into their room several times, called them on the phone, and laid down on the piece of cardboard they had turned into his magic carpet waiting for someone to pull him down the hallway.

Searching for Normal

I took the boys to the airport yesterday. We actually drove to the city the night before and stayed in a hotel because of the early departure of their flight. The Chief had to work this weekend, yes poor planning, so he wasn't able to make the trip with us. That of course made it even harder on him, and harder on me for having to watch it.

We had one last dinner as a family, then all three boys and I loaded into the car for the 3 hour drive. Murph did pretty well. Even sleeping for part of the trip. Once at the hotel, it took awhile to get everyone calmed down and asleep. Murph would sit up and jabber at his brothers whenever they made a sound. "Snort like a pig!" they begged. Murph would oblige and even that made me tear up.

We were up by 5 to get ready, eat a little, and get to the airport. All three played on the bed for awhile, smiling and laughing. Again, the tears.

I was extremely nervous about how Murph would do at the airport, but he was perfect. Me on the other hand, well I was a sobby mess. I hate departure day more than any other day.

They talked about when they would be here next (4 months from today). Four months isn't so long they decided. And the baby will be here by then. Duece asked, "How old will Turk be when we get here? One or Two months?" "Two or three weeks," I replied. "That's little!" They didn't meet Murph until he was a month old.

It was finally time for them to board, and time for hugs and goodbyes. Murph was sleepy enough that he wouldn't hug them or give them smoochies. I was struggling not to cry, but that made is so that I could barely tell them goodbye.

Driving home, friends and family would call to check to see how it went, but even talking about it hurts. Our boys are gone, Murph's brothers are gone, and there is nothing that we can do to change that. Nothing legal that is, and I'm too pretty for jail.

So now we wait. We count down the 4 months until they are home again. We try to get our lives back to whatever normal is without them.

Who says normal is so great?