Canned Cake

I laid in bed exhausted from the nightmares that pledged my dreams and woke me once I finally manage to fall asleep. Today was going to be rough, I could already tell. I argued with myself on the best course of action, attempt to sleep more and face the nightmares in my dreams or get up and face the nightmares of my day.

The growing child inside me assured the argument did not last long, food was the clear choice. I knew it would not be long before this little one’s brothers were up asking for breakfast as well.

Hum, Thai food sounded so good right now. “Hey, Thai food is not breakfast food silly,” I tried to reason with the cravings. “Fine eggs and peppers in a tortilla shell with jalapeño jelly it is then,” they hollered back.

Soon my boys were up asking for food as well. While they ate I watched my phone, waiting for the call I typically got each morning around this time; the call that set my fretting mind at ease. It didn’t come though and my mind began to throw all the nightmares from my dreams back in my face that I’d worked so hard to push aside. I tried to hold it all together as I forced my boys to get out of the dirty clothes they fell asleep in and into clean ones for school. I’d long since given up on the fight over wearing pajamas, it wasn’t worth it anymore.

I feared my doorbell would ring at any moment, soldiers and a notification officer in their perfect dress uniforms waiting to make my nightmare real.

I hurried the boys out to the car thinking I could escape the inevitable that way, if you're not home they can’t tell you right.

The complaining and crying about not wanting to go to school was in full swing before I even pulled out of the driveway. I wanted to scream and throw a tantrum myself. The devil and angel were arguing in my head, “he is dead, his lifeless body covered in blood; no he is perfectly fine he fell asleep waiting to call you is all.” My emotions were starting to get the better of me and I yelled for the boys to be quiet before the logical side of my brain took control forcing my chaotic emotions to take the back seat.

Half way to the school the blessed call came. My phone was in my lap ready; I always kept it charged and within arms reach because I never knew when a call would come. I said a prayer of thanks that he could call me most everyday; I couldn’t imagine going through this during the age of letters only. I also thought of how thankful I was that he actually wanted to call me; I knew others whose husbands could not handle the switch between war and family at home, so they got calls only on special days and some not at all.

“Hi!” I said with a smile and sigh of relief. The lag in the phone line was torturous some days and today it felt like forever before I heard his wonderful voice. “Hello sweetheart! Sorry I’m late calling today. We got back late from a mission.”

“That’s fine, I understand. I’m just so happy you're ok. How are you?”

“I am tired and hot, but…” a siren wailed in the background and I knew what that meant.

“Hey honey, another bomb, I need to get to the shelter. Tell the boys I love them. I love you so much.”

“I love you too!”

Just like that he was gone again. My brief moment of joy knowing he was alive shattered by the never ending threats to kill him.

I reached the school and my own battle began. I pulled my youngest son from the car kicking and screaming. I pondered which course of action would be best today as I carried his flailing body towards the school door. Would I open the door and toss him in closing it as quickly as possible or would I go inside sit for who knows how long and hope he doesn’t see me get up and walk out? Whichever option I chose I knew I’d sit in the car crying and question my mothering. At least my oldest came along nicely, even if he begged me not to leave him the whole way there. “I can’t take much more of this, I am done!” I shouted in my head. The logical side shouted right back, “yes you can! You have to!” So, I gathered all my physical and mental strength and stepped onward.

I took the seemingly easy route for the moment telling my son I would stay for a little bit. We sat down in the classroom, my son holding onto me tight because he knew what would eventually happen if he let go and got distracted. They began by going over the calendar, putting on the new date. It hit me then that my husband's birthday was only a few short weeks away. My mind began to plan how I could make it a great one with him so far away. This was the first birthday he would not be home to celebrate with us; and “it would not be the last” the pesky devil chimed in my ear. I fought back the scream and tears and told him to bugger off.

I sat by my son and dreamed up the perfect package to send, favorite treats, cards from the boys, love notes and sexy pictures of me, confetti, party hats, and birthday balloons. A whole party in a box I thought, the only part missing was the cake and ice cream.

The kids began moving onto individual learning centers now and I tried to sneak away in the commotion. My son, of course, knew this was my cue to inch towards the door and he tried to latch onto my arm. I said I had to go, wrenching my arm free, I fled as quickly as I could hearing his screams and seeing his tear stained face as I closed the door. Tears began to flow down my own and I debated going back in, but remembered the advice I’d been given. Stay on your terms not his, the more you give in to begging and pleading the more it will add to the separation anxiety he is experiencing. Ugh, so many things and emotions I had no idea I’d have to deal with when he left.

I wiped the tears and told myself to enjoy my hour of freedom. I decided to head to the store and get all the things I had come up with for the birthday party in a box idea. Shopping for a surprise for my love helped calm my nerves and I enjoyed finding so many possibilities of fun to add, party favors, a happy birthday banner, streamers, birthday candles, and lots of treats. I stood in the store googling deployment birthday ideas and found the solution to my cake problem, canning it! I was so excited to try this crazy invention out. I grabbed chocolate frosting in a sealed container to add to the birthday box and headed to check out so I could go pick up my little monsters from school.

We ran by the post office on the way home and picked up one of the flat rate boxes so we could start our project. The boys helped me decorate papers to tape on the inside of the box so it could be full of Daddy’s favorite color. They had to play with all the party favors and a brilliant idea came. We decorated the house and played with the party favors while I took pictures to print off and send in the birthday box. That way he could have pictures of us celebrating on his real birthday. It was all I could do to keep the boys from spilling the surprise with Dad when he called that night, while a few things got out they managed to keep most of it to themselves.

Exhausted from the day, I dished up an oh so healthy dinner of cold cereal; it was frustrating cooking nice meals for kids who could care less anyway. I tucked the kids in bed and fell asleep lying next to them while trying to read a book.

A few days later I attempted to can a scrumptious chocolate cake so it could make the long journey across the world. Of course mine did not turn out great, some overflowed the jars, some did not cook up enough, but a few came out pretty ok. I didn’t care, “he will be so surprised and excited to get a birthday cake from home,” I told myself. I carefully put the canning lids on the jars that didn’t overflow and waited for the pop to tell me they had sealed. Off I rushed to pick up kids from school. We worked on birthday cards when we got home and they helped me pack everything into the box, including the cooled down canned chocolate cake. We stuffed it with blown up balloons imagining the fun surprise he would get when he opened the box and they came popping out at him. The boys had to try it out themselves a few times. It didn’t work as hoped, but it was all good. The post office was closed by this point so we waited for the next day. I had to go after school because the boys wanted to help deliver daddy’s birthday party. They both had to carry it in the building and hand it to the employee. Party in a box was on its way, and I prayed my sweetheart would still be alive to celebrate his birthday then prayed more fervently that he would come home to us. Another exhausting day was ticked off the calendar on the crazy deployment rollercoaster as I pushed aside all the fears yet again reminding myself I was stronger than them.

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If you’d like to read about an amazing lady who helped me survive deployment check out this story.

Or check out this fictional story I started writing to help keep my mind occupied while my husband was deployed.