DATE: Thursday, September 4, 1997           TAG: 9709030500

SECTION: LOCAL                   PAGE: B3   EDITION: FINAL 

COLUMN: THE HOME FRONT 

TYPE: Military 

SOURCE: Jacey Eckhart 

                                            LENGTH:   70 lines

EVEN A SCANT 2-WEEK CRUISE MEANS ENDLESS WEEKENDS

After dinner, I sent ``Cain'' and ``Abel'' out to harvest and store our bounteous collection of toys from the living room.

How hard could it be? Bend, pick up. Bend, pick up. Even 3-year-old Sam could handle that, I thought. When his sister's screams rent the air, I ran in to find my little Abel wielding a bat with which to smite his bossy sister.

``Both of you - get upstairs this minute,'' I ordered, snatching the bat. ``Put your jammies on, brush your teeth and call me when you're ready for stories, and I mean right now.''

``But, Mommy, it isn't even our bedtimes yet,'' Kelsey wailed.

``I'm not so so tired!'' Sam whined.

My eyelid twitched. They both turned tail and headed for the stairs. I'm not raising idiots here.

I picked up the remote control and plopped onto the couch, mindlessly flipping through channels. It was only 6:30. Brad was back out to sea. And I had the whole empty weekend stretching endlessly before me, a vast wasteland broken up only by laundry, church on Sunday and summer reruns. Ugh.

I hate scrounging around for something to do on weekends when Brad is at sea. It makes me feel unpopular. Everyone assumes that Brad is home on weekends, now that the long deployment is over. My friends are planning family time with their husbands, or having garage sales, or getting ready for out-of-town guests.

We could be out-of-town guests, I thought as I turned off the TV in disgust. We could drive to Ohio to visit my parents. They'd love our company. Nah, that won't work. Even if I could manage the kids in the car for 14 hours, I can't show up in Dayton without Brad, again. The parishioners at St. Luke's are starting to think that Brad is just a figment of my sainted mother's imagination and that I am secretly living at the Little Sister's Home for Wayward Girls.

``Mommy! We're ready!'' sang out a voice from upstairs.

``Did you brush your teeth?'' I called back. A little scuffle at the bathroom door confirmed my mother's intuition. I bet they didn't even have their jammies on.

I opened the entertainment section of the newspaper, hoping against hope to find the Single Married Parents' Convention. I didn't. We could go to the pool tomorrow, or to the beach, but those are things we do all week long with our friends. The kids get whiny when we go alone. They actually expect me to get my bathing suit wet.

I heard two pairs of feet tramp down the steps and pause outside the door. ``Oh, my queen,'' said the 7-year-old in her best British accent. ``We would be ever so grateful if you would come read to us now.'' She curtsied elaborately. They giggled and I reluctantly rolled off the couch, following them upstairs. Surely it was Daddy's turn to read the stories.

When I came back down, I didn't have the energy to do anything worthwhile. I threw myself on the couch and mentally paged through my address book, but I couldn't think of anyone to call who would make me feel any better. I considered getting some take-out, but I couldn't think of anything to eat that wouldn't make me feel worse. You would think that after a six-month deployment, a little two-week-nothing-of-a-cruise wouldn't throw me a bit - but it does.

``Mommy!'' called a voice from upstairs.

``What is it now?''

``Sammy is singing, Mommy. You should come upstairs and hear him sing.''

Again, I rolled off the couch, feeling as though I had been cast in ``Night of the Living Dead.'' When I reached the top of the stairs, I heard Sam singing in stentorian tones: ``MAYBE I'M A FOOL TO BE IN YUV WIF YOU, BUT I WOULD BE A FOOL FOREVER JUST TO BE WIF YOU FOREVER!''

Sam was jumping on his bed, and fell back onto his pillows in exhaustion. ``That's Daddy's song he sings to you, Mommy. Don't you just yuv Daddy?''

Yes, I do. I love Daddy. But I'll never get used to these endless weekends.

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