As she settles into the leather chair, her feet warming in the bubbly water, Jennifer Parker says she doesn’t really deserve this. So many others have worked and raised children with husbands and wives at war.

“They should be here with me,” she said.

Still, they may not all have coworkers like Parker.

In the culmination of a weeklong plan, her coworkers at Immanuel St. Joseph’s Hospital Community Services gave her Wednesday off and a free trip to the spa. They also cobbled together a chauffeur’s uniform — or at least a reasonable facsimile of one — and drove Parker to the spa in a red 1937 Oldsmobile.

They knew that a gift certificate would not do the job, as Parker would instead spend a day off with her children Katelyn, 3, and Matthew, 17 months.

The kids have been clamoring for their daddy, Brian, to come home ever since he left their North Mankato home for training in December 2005.

But perhaps the date most clearly etched in Jennifer’s memory is Oct. 19, 2005. That’s the day Brian, a Guardsman, walked into her office and said those four fateful words: “I got the call.”

He was in Iraq by March, helping to guard convoys.

They kept in touch as much as they could with instant messaging, Web cam and precious seconds on the phone.

She took video of Matthew’s birthday party so his dad could watch him smear birthday cake all over his face. And she sent him Father’s Day cards made by the kids and adorned with their handprints.

Some days flew by.

“And some days it’s the slowest day of your life,” she said of Brian’s absence.

But that will all change very soon.

“They’re in the United States,” Jennifer says, pointing at the ground to indicate that her husband is finally on his way home. He flew into Maryland Wednesday morning, and she expects that he’ll be home in two weeks at the latest.

He doesn’t want a party — says he’s just doing his job — and she says she hasn’t struggled any more than thousands of other military families.