We’ve developed a routine in this household. It’s the first one that’s truly stuck in the last 8 years, the past years filled with travel and survival that comes along with child raising. For the first time in years, (since B was a toddler!) I’m actually leaving the end of the day with a couple of hours all to myself. (Do you hear the trumpets of joy?!)
I can’t complain about my life. Truly, I cannot. Right now we are living in a house that we love, in an area where I am surrounded by friends, a church I enjoy, and my children are happy and healthy. I feel comfortable and rooted in a way I haven’t been in a long time, and I know that this sweet part of my life is most likely a ticking time bomb. I love Oklahoma. I love the way the prairies look in the afternoon sun and the way the grass crunches under my feet in August. I love that I live in a town that knows everything about everyone, and you dare not wear sweats to the store unless you want to see everyone you know!
I love being able to plan trips to the fair, the pumpkin patch, and the water park. I love everything about this place.
I’m thankful that my husband works so hard to allow us this life. He’s taken his role as provider seriously, not because he feels that I shouldn’t work, but because he wants me to be able to follow my heart just like he does. My heart now is here, within the walls of love, sticky hands, and stained carpets.
It has it’s drawbacks. I won’t lie. So many days he’s gone. His only companions are a long stretch of highway, a conference call (or 3), and problems to solve. I know how much he hates that I have the routine down to an art, and that sometimes he feels he gets in the way of our life here at home. It’s a constant and active battle to make sure he stays as active as he can in the kids’ world, but he does it, even if it means getting his hours with his kids by being curled up next to them in sleep. I can’t tell you how many nights he crawls in bed with our oldest so I won’t have to divide my time between her and the little man.
I’ll never claim to be a single parent, but sometimes it’s hard being the only one for most things. I’m an independent person by nature and you’ll never see me post some “missing my husband” post after 24 hours, but being alone often does become isolating. It’s fun at first when you get to watch your own shows and eat ice cream without guilt, but you forget how to do life with another person. I know that’s true for both of us.
Days like today are hard. We’ve been solo for a while and I wanted to try to take us to church tonight, but we’ve had enough tears that you could have formed a river. I just wish I would have come to this conclusion before I wasted makeup (anyone else hate a wasted face?) I decided to preserve the routine for tonight and pray for an early bedtime.
Speaking of, I better go get that baby boy before he’s up until midnight tonight!
Thank you for those who actually stuck through this. Writing brings me peace, even if I ramble for 600 words!
And now here’s a photo of my girl in her natural state. You’re welcome.