Wednesday, June 30, 2010

rocket attack

This morning Brent called (yay!!!). We were about three minutes into our conversation when I felt his attention waver.

"Brent? Are you listening to me?"

"Yeah. I'm just a little distracted because we're under a rocket attack, so now I'm on the floor."

"Does that happen often???" This was the first time (after 9 months) that I'd heard about these rocket attacks; he doesn't like to worry me.

Very calmly, he answered: "Yeah. Pretty much. We just have to get on the floor, and then I'll probably have to go pretty soon to report."

"Are you under the desk, at least?"

"No, I'm just on the floor."

Brent is SO the ying to my yang. I was actually much calmer than I'd normally be, since I was up so late last night (Lincoln decided he wanted to play at 1:30am).

Brent is calm.
I am hysterical.

He is mellow.
I am "high strung."

He goes with the flow.
I am a constant ball of stress and anxiety.

He is quiet.
I am LOUD (unfortunately, our kids take after me in that department).

Seven minutes later I was just beginning to explain the great pain I am in today (it's that time of the month, if you know what I mean). Brent's always great at being sensitive to my feelings and giving me the sympathy I'm looking for. I was waiting for him to say something like, "I'm sorry babe. You're so great to spend your day cleaning and packing." Instead I heard, "Well babe, that's the all clear - I've got to go report now. I lovelovelovelovelove you ."

Ten minutes of conversation was not enough for me, but at least I know that he's safe for now.

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