Rainy day and Monday

The boys and I had a good weekend, keeping ourselves amused while Eric is gone. Saturday we went to a Halloween party on base, and then trick-or-treated around one of the housing areas. It was so great to see all the kids and parents out in costume, neighbors distributing candy together, and all the decorations. The Germans don't do Halloween, so entering the American bubble for the occasion was the only option for my kids to celebrate in the style to which they're accustomed.
Sunday we had the most beautiful weather, and I insisted we spend all day outside in the sunshine while we had the chance. We ran amok at the playground and traded Pokemon cards with three German boys. Some of the characters were identical, but of course their cards are in German and ours are in English, so they swapped duplicates with each other. The boys were so happy to play with neighborhood kids, and now they know where their new friends live, so hopefully we can cultivate the connection.
Today, it's been pouring rain since we woke up, my son gave me his cold, and we haven't heard from Eric since Saturday. It's the kind of day that yoga pants and a half-zip fleece pullover are my uniform for laying on the couch and listening to the deluge outside. Glad we soaked up all that sunshine yesterday!
I can see how easy it would be to linger in a deep blue funk like this. Every day would feel like today if I didn't take classes, exercise, and write. It would be easy to sink into depression without the appreciative audience of a spouse to validate all the cleaning, laundry, cooking, and child rearing. It all feels so pointless. The kids are the only ones here, and they not only don't care if the house is clean, they actively un-clean it at every opportunity. Laundy? They both would prefer to wear the same thing day after day, and would if I'd allow it. Cooking, forget about it. They would happily subsist for months on a diet solely consisting of frozen things that can be baked on a cookie sheet at 375 degrees.
When we first arrived here and still lived in the hotel on base, it immediately struck me that every woman I saw appeared to have given up. Now I get it. Without someone to notice the effort, why bother? There's not a lot of personal satisfaction gained from the repetitive chores of domestic life. I was so happy this weekend to finish bringing up a cord of wood from the driveway to the basement, because the cord of wood isn't going to reappear in the driveway tomorrow, strewn about. I can't say the same, metaphorically, about the laundry and the dishes. Those things always reappear, strewn about.
Having a life outside the house is, in my opinion, the most important thing a military spouse can do for him- or herself. When the service member is gone, there has to be something to fill the space.