When we were stationed in Japan with two young kids, I learned to despise those little phases of separation. For some amount of time that usually fell between two and 30 days, my husband would bounce around the Pacific. Back at home, I would silently protest making dinner (because I’d be the only one eating it anyway since our kids were firmly in the chicken nugget and grilled cheese phase of youth), put on my fun mom hat until bedtime (to minimize the meltdowns and 20 questions about when Dad would be home), and then spend my evenings quietly relaxing with a dinner of popcorn or charcuterie in front of a binge viewing of my favorite TV show.
It never quite played out that neatly. For starters, it was never “charcuterie,” it was whatever cheese and crackers the commissary had stocked with zero points for presentation. But more than that, my planned TV session was always — always — interrupted. Every time one of our kids snuck down for a glass of water, or an abstract question about the meaning of life (why are those only after bedtime?) or just one more hug, my patience ticked down and my overstimulation meter cranked up.
I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve felt crippling mom guilt looking back at this. What kind of mom wishes away a nightly hug? I quickly run to my rescue and clap back with – a tired one. My husband’s temporary absences were disruptive for the ages our kids were at that time, especially for this girl who thrives on a well-oiled routine. It was a constant wave of, “Let’s do something special before Dad leaves,” and “Dad’s back! Let’s do something special!” There were always tears in the early days of my husband’s absence, falling to the soundtrack of “I miss Daddy,” while I was running myself ragged to do all the things. Just as we’d come down from the initial shock of the separation and hit our stride, Dad would come home and bring a backpack full of treats, and the cycle would repeat. It was draining, and my reward of silence and witty quips between my favorite TV show characters was my little gift to myself. It was how I cleared my head and recharged to do it all again the next day.
Little by little, I learned. I adjusted my expectations. I began to anticipate that the first 20 to 30 minutes of my evening rest and recuperation routine would be peppered by interruptions. Our kids slowly learned that Mom was pretty boring (and honestly, a little meaner) after bedtime. We navigated the TDY waves together, and they were absolute sports about it.
Second Act
After Japan, my husband had a staff job with minimal travel — plus it was the COVID era. Travel was minimal for everyone. In his current gig, he’s gone here and there again. Not a problem — we’ve been through it. I am now a seasoned expert, and the kids know the drill.
The Greek philosopher, Heraclitus, said, “No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it’s not the same river and he’s not the same man.” I assume that Heraclitus was referring to TDYs because it is not the same three years later. The major players are still there — interruptions, fatigue, overstimulation, tears, poor but convenient food choices — but we’ve gone from black and white to technicolor.
After about a year of feeling out the new routine, here’s what I’ve observed at our house during a TDY:
- I still look forward to solo evenings binge-watching TV. Sometimes it’s still the same show, sometimes it’s a true crime documentary. It depends on the day! The designated quiet time is more fluid because bedtime slides now that the kids are older. We have an activity nearly every night of the week (which means I get to be in two places at once during TDYs — I get by with a little help from my friends and family nearby). Sometimes everyone is showered, fed and reading in bed by 8:30 p.m. On other nights, we eat dinner at 9 p.m., and homework still stands between us and sleep.
- Independence is a beautiful thing. Now that our kids are old enough and responsible enough to stay home alone for a few hours at a time, it has become much easier to juggle everything every day. Knowing that I can lean on our kids to pitch in with household chores means it’s no longer on me to handle it all when my husband is away.
- Our kids still get emotional in the early days. It’s rarely tears anymore since we have a teen and a tween, but I’ve noticed that on day one or two of a TDY, I tend to have emotional conversations with at least one kid — sometimes both. Whether it’s something they hold onto to share with just me or there are more emotions swirling while Dad is gone, I can’t be sure. A major difference is that I listen fully now because — as any teen parent will tell you — communication is key. I don’t ever want our kids to think they can’t bring something to Mom when it’s on their mind or their heart. Is it exhausting to absorb that at the end of an already long day? Yes, it is. Would it be equally exhausting for them to hold on to it themselves? Yes. Is it worth it? Without a doubt.
- Dinner is served. Thankfully, the kids are slightly less picky these days. While we still have the occasional snack-dinner or takeout, I’ve gotten better at cooking during TDYs because I know it won’t go to waste. Sometimes we cook together, and most nights we eat together.
- The send-offs and homecomings have settled down. Due to the fast pace of our schedule (including the frequency of travel for my husband), we skip the fanfare before he leaves and when he gets back. We’re still always sad to see him go and glad when he gets back. It’s more practical these days, like, “Will you land in time to handle pickup from lacrosse practice?”
While the routines don’t look anything like what they used to, I’m better (on average — I still have my off days) than I used to be, and I’m happy with that. It’s unrealistic to think everything will go smoothly each time we have to steer solo. The absence of someone who is normally there is disruptive, whether it’s for a day or six months. I’ve learned to cut myself some slack, but also to offer the same courtesy to our kids (including the dog and — I suppose — the cat). It’s like the weather: We can mostly predict how it’s going to go, but it’s wise to be ready for anything.
