Reflections upon having husband at home for a week

• I am dangerously, dangerously good at living like a hermit. Left to my own devices, I tend to snuggle deep into my comfortable world and ignore everything else. Especially when I get to see my husband every day during daylight hours, for seven straight days. BLISS.
• We are an anomaly in that we could totally be together all the time and not get sick of each other. And yes, I know exactly how lucky I am.
• I also got super-lucky in getting not only an incredible husband but an amazing partner in parenting. Two nights ago, boy was throwing a fit about bath time (which is a sure sign we started the bedtime routine too late), and as I headed up the stairs to join boy and his daddy for the tail end of the bath biz, I braced myself to hear husband scolding the little guy -- it was my gut expectation based on my own history. Instead, as I rounded the corner and found my two favorite guys, boy had calmed down enough to play happily in the tub, and his daddy was quietly telling him how proud he was of him, and how much he loved him. 
• As much as I hate to admit it, boy responds much more quickly to The Daddy Voice saying no than my own.
• I do more laughing when my husband's around. Because I am always free to be myself around him, I find that I am WAY more in touch with my inner goofball when he's around than at most other times. The impressions we do, the songs we sing, the ridiculous dances we make up for boy -- all I'll say is, thank God there are no nanny-cams around to catch our antics. Because we'd probably look certifiably insane.
• I do less housework when my husband's around. The laundry can wait. Mostly.
• Husband could easily win Olympic medals if napping were a sport. Before I met him, I seriously would never have believed that 1) anyone could stand more than one nap a day, 2) anyone could fall asleep so easily and quickly, and 3) night-time sleep is somehow separate from naps and isn't affected by one's napping. I hate napping, and only resort to it when absolutely necessary to make it through the day. I always feel like I'm being either supremely unproductive-slash-lazy, or that I'm missing out on whatever's happening while I'm down for the count. Husband, clearly, does not share these sentiments.

Just because I like 'em.

How long has it been since I did a random picture post? 

Well, that's too long.

There's a lot I like about this picture, which my husband took with his iPhone. (As a technology-aside, I'm kind of miffed that his iPhone, which is the newer model, takes much better quality photos than mine. Rawr.) I love that boy's leaning so far back, that he looks so happy and free. I love that he's wearing his monkey cap, and his Packers windbreaker. And I love, love, love the perspective on the swing chains. 

The poor kid is going to have some kind of complex when he gets older. Because, yes, that's a monkey towel, too. 

I love my boys. Even when they're watching college basketball.

Boy is rarely contained in any sort of contraption anymore. When he IS in a play yard of some sort, it's because I have to take my eyes off of him for a few minutes (like when I'm bringing groceries in from the car or something) and I need to be sure he's in a safe place. He usually spends that time either protesting vocally, or methodically testing the device for weaknesses (see above). Like the velociraptors in "Jurassic Park" tested the fences. 

"You talkin' to me?"


We have several azalea bushes in front of our house as part of the general greenery/landscaping/I-don't-know-the-technical-term. Most of the year, they're boring and blah, but for three glorious weeks in the spring, we get a veritable explosion of the hottest hot pink you can imagine. It's the only three weeks of the year I take any interest in gardening whatsoever, and this year I was moved to get the camera out and capture some of the intense color of our blooms. 

Storytime with pops.

"Um, mom? I'm kinda busy here."

"Seriously. The camera can't wait till this book is done?"

" 'What does a lion say,' you ask? RAWR!!!" I love this picture too. Husband's smile is the best.

I seriously had no idea my hair LOOKED this long. I've been on the verge of getting a serious cut -- like, chin-length, with side-swept bangs -- but this picture makes me think maybe I want to keep it long. I kind of dig the hippie vibe.

Not quite a thousand words, but still, enough.

This may be one of my favorite pictures of my husband and myself, ever.

There's so much in it. We'd just climbed this little rock wall at the neighborhood playground where we'd taken boy, when a friend of ours snapped the pic without our knowing it. And I feel like there's a story in every corner. 

Being married to this man has indeed lifted me to heights I could never have imagined, or experienced alone. Or with anyone else, for that matter. As in everything we do, we climbed that little wall together, with his voice encouraging me whenever I couldn't quite find the next foothold or reach the next grip. And when we got to the top, somehow (but still not quite surprisingly), my hand ended up resting on his as we shared a hold. And ever so slightly, we leaned on one another. Which we do in all things, all the time. Plus, we're grinning. That's something else I do more of now than ever, thanks to him.

I love you, husband. 

As if I needed the reminder.

Dear husband,

You left on your work trip on Monday morning, and you're due back Thursday evening. I know there are couples who go longer without seeing one another. I know there are jobs that could require you to venture even further away than you've gone -- California is not the end of the world. And yet -- all I can think of is how much I miss you.

The baby's growing, love. He's been walking -- WALKING, not toddling -- all over since you left, and now even attempts jogging, as if it's tremendously urgent that he get from point A to point B in as little time as possible. He bellows while he walks, too, and it makes him sound like he's late for an important meeting. "Joyce! JOYCE! Get those documents bound for me while I go down to the copy room to pick up my business cards. HURRY!" Today I thought I heard him say both "Thank you" and "All done" in the midst of his babbling, and I felt those little words hit me full in the chest, like physical blows. How many more major milestones will he approach or meet while you're gone? And when will I ever get used to the sheer astonishment I feel when he does something like that?

I've been at mom's house every day with boy, as you know, hanging out with her while she recovers from surgery. So I haven't been home a lot while you've been away, but even the few waking hours I have here without you are too many. Without you here, the house has lost its vital spark -- the rooms seem to gape with emptiness, and I wish I could hear the click of your mouse from the office, or the sounds of FIFA '09 from the game room upstairs, because it would mean you would be here.

I find myself being super productive these nights. When you're here, I want nothing more than to have the chance to grab a shower after the boy's in bed, then cuddle up with you on the couch to watch "The Office" together, or maybe "Heroes." Sometimes you play PS3 games while I tap away on my laptop or read, and just having our legs entangled on the same couch is enough. I miss, as we've always expressed it, having you within a four-foot radius. 

Please come home. I'm lost without you. I realized that if the modem or server or router or network or whatever-the-hell-we-have crashes, I don't know how to fix it. I don't know where the next book of checks is, or whether the phone bill is due. Tonight I ate bread and feta cheese for dinner, because if you're not here, why cook? (You know I love bread and feta cheese, so it's not like it was a huge sacrifice, but still.) I'm too short to turn off the smoke alarm if the steam from a hot shower sets it off. And if there's a roach -- MY GOD, IF THERE'S A ROACH. I will do what's necessary, but you'd better get back here quick, man.

Most of all, love, I need you here to look at boy with me. Not WATCH him -- LOOK AT him. There's so much of him to soak up that I feel brimmingly full with the doing of it alone. He is perfect and lovely and a little toot and our boy, and I need you here to help me adore him, to help me remember everything, to make sure we don't miss a second of his growing-up that we don't have to. We both have amazing family members who love him dearly, and they're valiantly doing their share this week -- but it's not the same, love, and I need you here to help me catch my breath from the sheer beauty of him. Today, he burst into delighted giggles when I stomped my tennis shoes around on the tile floor of my mom's house, and the sound went straight through me in the purity of its joy. 

I want you to help me bear how happy I am, how perfect he is.

Please hurry home. I love you.

I miss you.

Love,

me.