Smiley Faces

Yesterday I dropped off my lovely husband at the airport, only for my phone to ring minutes later.

You know that call -- the one you don't want to answer and just hope everything works out.

"Tabby," I said to my friend who I was hoping to meet for lunch. "I have to go -- David's on the other line and I just dropped him off."

"He forgot something," she said.

I hoped against hope she was wrong. Maybe he just wanted to tell me he loved me , I thought, and reluctantly clicked over.

"I'm so ridiculous," was all he said, and I knew my plans at Starbucks writing my next book and then an early Christmas shopping session were not going to happen.

"What did you forget?"

"My passport."

Yes, he was going out of the country, but Toronto isn't quite exotic enough to instantly jog your memory when you're packing. (Go ahead. Insert Ugly American joke here and I won't tell you the million variations of "why isn't Toronto a suburb of New York" remarks I made.)

See, I had plenty of time to think of Toronto slurs, because I had to drive back home, give David his passport, then drive back to get the kids from school. The whole process took me four solid hours of driving, and there was nothing more I would've wanted than to fast forward through the whole process.

But it wasn't over. Then, I had to drive back to Nashville with the kids tonight to pick him up.

The kids were complaining the whole way, I was lamenting how much time I'd spent in the car for David during the 24 hour period -- 6, not that I'm counting -- and wondering how long we can actually make it being a one car family. (I sold David's car when he left for Iraq, and the national financial crisis has made us reluctant to purchase another.)

Then, about mile marker 65, it hit me. Right as my daughter was explaining to me in great detail why today was the worst day she's ever had, I tried to force myself to enjoy the moment. By sheer act of will, I tried to love she had anxiety because she the little boy in front of her will not stop stealing her eraser. These are the easy problems I'll remember and smile, I thought.

And so, I took a deep breath, gripped the steering wheel, made a "no more complaining rule," and gushed out more compassion than kids should be able to receive in one lifetime. It dawned on me they may have been responding emotionally to the fact that David had gone on this business trip so soon after coming home from his year long deployment in Iraq. Or, they could've just been whiny.

You never really know.

Anyway, we picked David up, skipped church, and got chocolate milkshakes. And when they went to bed a few hours later, they had smiles on their faces.

But not as big as the smile I wore, when I realized they'd finally gone to sleep, and tomorrow is another day.