Absence diminishes mediocre passions and increases great ones, as the wind extinguishes candles and fans fires. ~ Francois de La Rochefoucauld
I am le tired.
This is similar to ordinary tired, except that, being French, it possesses more je ne sais quoi, and some ennui.
Loving Husband has been doing his patriotic duty for the last week. Without going into too much detail, he has only been around for an hour in the mornings. In order to avoid disturbing me and Sausage in his comings and goings, he’s been sleeping in our guest room.
It’s not so much that my workload is increased by his absence, though that’s part of it. And it’s not just being on-call 24/7, though that is also taking its toll.
That’s a hard thing to admit, when I’m spending all my time with another (very short, inarticulate) person. It’s a problem I’ve always had, though — for a dyed-in-the-wool introvert, I have a remarkably hard time dealing with loneliness.
Some things are nice about Loving Husband not being around. I can eat when I’m hungry, rather than adjusting myself to his schedule. I can drink a glass of wine while watching a chick-flick after Sausage is in bed, and shamelessly weep great big lady tears. I can eat an entire pint of Ben and Jerry’s without anyone raising an eyebrow (and without having to share it).
Being alone has brought be face-to-face with the thing that I’ve found hardest about being a Stay-At-Home-Mom — being isolated. I’m not good at making friends, being that I’m almost completely unencumbered with social skills. The friends and family that I do have around, I fear to ask too much of; I don’t want to seem needy, even if I kind of am. At least for the moment.
Why am I spilling all this out in such a public forum? Maybe because I’ve found myself included in a rather wonderful group of supportive, smart, funny people online. I’ve never physically met the vast majority of you, but you make me feel connected to something. Thank you for that.
Maybe I wanted to try something different. Do a bit of confessional blogging. Publicly discussing my weaknesses, working my way through my issues, finding catharsis. That’s not really my thing, though. I deal with my issues by cracking jokes and pretending that nothing really gets to me.
Ugh, this is getting depressing. Here. I dare you to stay unhappy while listening to this song.
Whew. Do you feel better? I feel better. I don’t know half of what she’s saying, but that Arisa always cheers me up.
So maybe I should take this in another direction. Being without Loving Husband, even only for a couple of weeks, makes me really realize just how great he is.
He cooks. I don’t eat nearly as well when he’s not home. He does a fair amount of the cleaning, especially in the kitchen, since he knows how much I hate that. He’s always willing to give me the time I need to be by myself, away from the baby; but he’s also always there with a hug when I need it, and very often he knows that I need one even before I do. And I just don’t sleep as well when he’s not there beside me.
I miss him terribly. It’s not as bad as when he’s had to leave for months at a time, but then, when he did that, we didn’t have Sausage yet. Everything seems … bigger. Worse. More intense, since a baby has been added to the mix.
So I guess I’ll leave this uncharacteristically un-jokey post by saying that I love my husband, and I can’t wait to have him back on a schedule that allows him to be with us. With his family.
We miss you, love.