Dadalogue Deployed: Care package!

I think the excitement of getting a care package here in Afghanistan is similar to a 6-year-old on Christmas morning. 

There’s anticipation when you see that shipping box all taped up – don’t look at the customs form though, or you’ll ruin your own surprise – wondering what’s inside. You tear the tape off the top, not trying to save the box, just what’s inside. And then there’s the burst of joy when you see that you got exactly what you wanted.

I got my first care package from my wife and kids this week, and it was a happy day.

There was coffee of the Dunkin Donuts variety, a set of sheets, a nice pillow, a motorcycle magazine, and a card.

BUT …

There were a couple things even more special.

Grace and Timothy both made artwork for me. First, it was flower painting where their hands and feet were the buds and leaves. Grace’s didn’t have leaves because she wouldn’t put her feet in the paint. But she also did an abstract painting with a “We miss you Daddy” message included. Even the wife got into the art projects, sending me a page of a coloring book that she had colored herself.

The final item was one that will continue to grow while I’m out here. The wife started a scrapbook of everything happening back home with her and the kids. Every month, she’ll send a new page. The first one was photos of the kids playing with each other and doing their daily routine – Timothy learning how to crawl, and Abigail working on her best Rembrandt impersonation.  It’s great to watch them grow. I wish I was there to see it in person.

After going through everything in the box, my day, which wasn’t that bad to begin with, ended on a great note. The thoughtfulness and, well, care that went in to the care package I got is another example of how I feel like the most blessed man in the world.

What I miss as a dad separated from his family

Do you know what the best thing about being away from your family is?

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

At first, the idea of some peace and quiet was nice. A stay-cation of sorts. I could be on my own schedule, and watch what I wanted on TV. No more Yo Gabba Gabba for this dad. I could eat peanut butter straight out of the jar. I didn't have to wake up in the middle of the night for anything. I could let the dishes sit in the sink. There was no one to tell me what to do. This was all pretty cool.

For like an hour.

After that, I started craving things like a little girl running into the room with her blanket to climb up and snuggle on the couch with me. I crave giggles, smiles, laughs, coos, and yes, even crying. I crave my old routine. I crave reading the same book three times in a row before bed. I crave Goodnight Moon and goodnight kisses. I crave hugs. I crave little babies sleeping in my arms. I crave changing diapers. Well, lets be honest, maybe not that. I could do without changing diapers. But I crave those little ones that make such big messes. I crave hearing battery-operated children's toys that sing the ABC's and count to ten in Spanish. I crave talking to my wife face to face. I crave holding her hand. I crave seeing her when I walk in the door coming home from work. I crave having her close at night. I crave her poking me awake to go rock our son back to sleep. I crave giving her sleepy head a goodbye kiss in the morning. I crave leftovers for lunch.

I crave what I'm missing.

On my way to work I got a call from The Wife and Grace. Our almost two-year-old was excited to tell me that she "went pee pee in the potty." This was a first. I, of course, want to be there for that. Or at least hear about it in person. But, that's obviously not possible. I can't stop time. I can't tell Grace to stay little until I get back. I can't tell Timothy to not crawl and walk until I can cheer him on. I have to encourage them and cheer them on over the phone or through the computer.

Those video chats we do regularly keep me smiling. My daughter is learning quickly how to interact with me over the computer. We laugh and giggle and act silly just like if we were together. She couldn't wait to show me how she does the Hokey Pokey. Timothy is learning how to wave and clap. It's all fun to watch, and those chats are the highlight of my day.

But of course, there are dinners to make, baths to be had, and bedtime for little ones. The call has to end at some point. And when it does, our now empty house is once again quiet. And I go back to eating peanut butter straight from the jar.