They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, and so far in my relationship with my husband, this has proven to be true. JP travels fairly often for work, and it’s usually for a week or two at a time. It’s not nearly as bad as others have it, but it’s definitely enough to disrupt our routine and make life challenging for a while.
Most of the time, we are all home together. This has its own challenges, but we’ve found a pretty good balance of letting daddy work and giving mommy a break when it’s time to cook dinner.
So, when JP’s gone, and it’s just us two girls, things are pretty different. Bedtime is so much harder without evening daddy-daughter wrestling matches to help get rid of pent-up energy and an extra hand to help with bath. Naptimes always seem more inconsistent when I’m home alone. And, I seem to be late for everything and forget anything important. This last week, I nearly locked myself out of my house, forgot my lunch twice, wore my sweater backwards to work, and lost a fish from our new 40-gallon aquarium (it’s now assumed dead, but I have no idea where it went).
There are good things too. We get to make and eat chicken noodle soup completely from scratch (JP is allergic to poultry). I learn to give myself grace when I’m just to tired to make sure the dishes get done before bed. When we get snowed in and have to cancel all our playdates, we can be as loud and silly as we want while we make indoor snowmen on cookie sheets and drink hot chocolate with rainbow sprinkles.
And, best of all is when he comes home. There’s nothing like the squeal of delight from the backseat as we pull up far enough to see daddy waiting outside of the airport.