For those of you who wonder what it's like...

...when your husband deploys.

Month One: You turn on all the lights downstairs before going to bed at night. Every little noise makes you think there is a rapist/murderer/child snatcher outside your bedroom window. Even though you are on the second floor. Even though you live in the world's most secure gated community complete with assault rifle-toting guards. You are afraid to shower, to check the mail at the end of the driveway, to put something in the garage because you just know that as soon as you're out of ear shot, something will happen and the babies will need you. Like they'll find a fossilized pretzel under their beds and choke on it. Or they'll fall out the (locked) window. Even waiting until they're asleep doesn't make this fear go away. You realize with surprise that you only have about 1/3 as many dishes to do, half as much garbage, and only a fraction of the laundry you had before. You also notice that the house is much easier to keep clean. You marvel at how the loss of one person can make housekeeping so much easier, and then feel slightly guilty for being happy about it. Like 95% of the wives, you vow that you will lose weight while he's gone and shock him with the new-and-improved you. Atkins begins.

Month Two: Time to get busy. Hoping to make the time go by faster, you throw yourself and the kids into whatever activities you can find. Church groups, book clubs, recipe swaps, play groups....anything at all. You go on at least one outing a day, even if it's something boring like filling up the car with gas and buying a pack of butter-rum Lifesavers. You no longer sleep with all the downstairs lights on--it's down to just the kitchen light. If you're feeling really brave, you turn that off too (but still leave the light over the stove on). This is also the month that your honey starts sending you fun packages in the mail. Yay for Shari's Berries, Amazon, and Sephora! Also, you get to send letters back to him, which is tons of fun because you get to break out the stamps, stickers, perfume, confetti, and girly-girl paper. You are keenly aware that deployed husbands view the quality of each other's wives by not only how much mail they get, but also the cuteness of said mail. Although they'd never admit it out loud.

Month Three: This is the hardest month of all. He's already been gone forever but won't be back for forever. Month three is also when something goes wrong at home that you can't fix. The computer will crash, the lawn mower will break, your car won't start, or your fridge will stop working. You'll tell your husband, and he'll call someone in his office to come fix it. The afternoon before this co-worker comes over, you will spend an hour scrubbing clean the house, putting on makeup, spraying air freshener and lighting candles. Maybe even bake something, and make sure that the children are clean and especially adoreable. The house must be perfect, and you must look hot. All the civilian wives just gasped in horror. All the military ones just nodded. Here's why. Because when your husband's co-worker comes over, he isn't looking at you, he's looking at your husband through you. And you'd rather die than have some silly man go back to your husband's office and say "Wow, he sure has a frumpy wife! She can't even keep her kitchen clean and the whole place smells like old towels." You want him to say "Wow, he is so lucky! Not only is his wife a hottie, but dude, she bakes and stuff!" Sometimes men are judged by what kind of woman they can "get," and in the military this is more common than you'd think!

Month Four: Boredom sets in. You are bored bored bored. You put the kids to bed and there's no one to talk to. You launch yourself like a blood-thirsty vampire on any adult who comes to the door. Newspaper salesman? Please come in and have a cup of Crystal Light and tell me all about your different delivery options! Cable guy? Have some cookies and tell my why going digital will change my life! A friend passing on the sidewalk? Oh beware, beware! This is also the month that you start fishing for houseguests, inviting whoever you think will stay at least a weekend. Or, it is equally acceptable to begin travelling--visiting whoever has asked you to come.

Month Five: If you've played your cards right, you are either out of town or you have an awesome houseguest. This means free babysitting, so you get to have your hair and nails done or go shopping.

Month Six: He's almost home, but not quite! You get so frustrated because every. single. day. he calls with a new return date. Sometimes it's later than you thought and you want to pull your hair out with frustration. Sometimes it's earlier and you can't believe your luck. Each time the date changes you write it on the calendar, along with a handy countdown in the top right-hand corner of each square. But you do it in pencil. Always in eraseable pencil because you're no fool. Finally, the day comes when you get to see him again. He is thinner and tanned. You are not. It takes a good month for the family to find it's "groove," but after you do it's almost like he never left.