So now I'm going to post these pre-deployment thoughts. Try to remember that I am still sarcastic and definitely eating cake.

**This is the first of three posts that I wrote before Steve deployed. Obviously I couldn't post them then because of OPSEC, but I needed to get it out, so I wrote it as a draft. I'm posting it now in case someone else is going through the shit-hole that is pre-deployment and needs to hear that someone else felt like they were trapped in a Groundhog's Day-esque living nightmare and made it out on the other side ok. (I'm ok!) I'm afraid it isn't a very humorous post, so feel free to skip it! We will be back to our regularly scheduled programming soon!**

It happened overnight. Everyone here on post is wearing multi-cam. I see neighbors loading up bags and equipment in their trucks. I see families doing everything together, trying to soak up these last few days/weeks. It's heart-breaking. I feel for these families. They're losing a very important member of their family for a very long stretch of time. Their soldier will miss birthdays, anniversaries, holidays, weddings, first words, first steps...

It almost feels as if this isn't going to happen. Life is still going on just like it always has. He still gets up and goes to work everyday, coming home at the same regular time, sometimes later. We talk about what we're having for dinner, who said what at the post office, how he needs more deodorant and body wash the next time I'm at the store. We go to bed and do it all over again the next day. We haven't made any plans for any time after September, but that's not unusual for us. We don't make plans for the weekend until it's upon us. So besides the multi-cam, it seems as if everything could just stay the same. We could avoid this if we just keep doing our regular routine.

I was left momentarily speechless when I called USAA to request a new credit card recently (we think Sam "recycled" mine), and the lady on the line asked when Steve was deploying. I told her "next month," and she insisted that he call her back to make sure he had enough life insurance in case "something" happened. I wanted to scream at her that NOTHING is going to happen because he's not going. Where can I get him a doctor's note. Can I just sign a waiver myself saying he can be excused from this trip? I keep saying "next month" like it is so far into the future. Molly is five months now. I swear to Mary that she was just born a week ago. So I'm fully aware of how quickly a month can go by. Yet I've been saying "next month" for ages it seems...

I have been able to preoccupy myself with my friends' husbands' deployments. Their husbands left sooner. I need to support them. It's not my husband's turn yet. I don't need to think about that yet. But I was reminded today that our turn is coming, whether I'm ready or not. Steve put on his multi-cam today. It's getting close. I might still be able to say "next month," but this month is only a few days from being over.

I get excited with the thought of Sam starting preschool. But then I quickly realize that not even two weeks after that much-anticipated day, I'll be sending my husband off to war. So I want time to slow down. I want it to STOP. I wanna hold my chubby baby and my (usually) sweet toddler and my ridiculously caring husband in my arms and make time stand still. I don't have months to savor. I have a couple of weeks.

We usually save grocery shopping for the weekend. Steve switches out carseats, loads up the kids, and gets the a/c going while I jot down last-minute things on my list for the commissary. He always finds a special cart for Sam (a rocket ship, truck, etc) and pushes Sam around while I strap Molly in the Ergo and load our items into the cart. Shopping with him is a breeze because I feel like I'm only responsible for one child and none of the heavy lifting. How will I manage both kids in the commissary on my own?

When Steve gets home from work, he usually takes Sam and Molly outside so that I can prepare dinner. Sam shows him his finest lawn-mowing skills, while Molly appears to just soak him in and constantly smiles. I have a few blissfully quiet minutes alone to get dinner ready and then I sit outside with my family. How will I ever cook a meal without his loving hands to hold my children?

As I sit upstairs at night rocking Molly to sleep, I can hear Steve giving Sam a bath and putting him to bed. They're so sweet together. How will Sam cope without his Daddy around? How will I ever get two babies to bed at the same-ish time every night?

After the babies are in bed, I am usually pumping one last time for the night. Steve goes around getting his things ready for the next day of PT and work. After he finishes that, he feeds Odie, checks on laundry, usually hangs up the diapers I never got around to, finishes the dishes and checks one last time to make sure we're locked up for the night. He leaves all the right lights on for me in case I have to get up in the night with Molly. He will rub my back if I beg ask him to. He curls around me and holds me until we are both dead-asleep (which usually takes no longer than a few minutes). Who will tie up all of my daily loose ends? How will I fall asleep knowing that he's not just on the other side of post, sleeping in a tent, planning on returning to me in a week or two? Who will I talk all of my daily, stupid problems over with? What do I do if I can't be mother and father to our children?

I knew this day would come eventually. I just didn't think it would come so soon.