what would you do without me?

Last Thursday I hosted book club.  Last Friday I had girlfriends over for lunch and makeup.  I also had a DDS appointment, on top of transplanting 11 trees and getting the garden bed ready for veggies.  Oh, and I had to go grocery shopping and the list goes on and on...

Steve was a major help in getting the house cleaned and just helping out in general with this and that.  I was exhausted after the kids went down.  Steve, on a couple occasions, said to me, as my ass was square in the reclining chair, "what would you do without me?"  He was basically patting himself on the back for all his help...and I really can't stress enough how much he was doing!

I sort of just smile and didn't say anything.

********

I bring this up because last night I was just tired.  I mean t-i-r-e-d...and no, I am not pregnant.  Our evening was filled with playing in a mud puddle...






...which then caused a CC screaming fit.  She didn't want to stop to go inside to take a bath, even though it was WELL past bedtime.  They were having fun, so why stop it before necessary.  I was tired after CC was in bed.  Dealing with screams is not easy and exhausting!  And dealing with screams consistantly for days is even harder! 

When Steve is on a trip, and I want to throw in the towel and hand her off to Steve and say "deal with your child"...he isn't there.  I have to fight the battles by myself.  And by battles, I mean fighting with CC to get her in the tub, and fighting the internal dialogue in my head about trying not to lose it. 

*****

Ben started to watch tv, and I cracked open a beer. 

I sat my ass on the chair and just did not want to move. 

But you know what, Steve wasn't home.  So, that meant that I still had to be Mommy. 

After I took a couple minutes to enjoy my beer, I got up and proceeded to do all that was necessary: cleaned up the kitchen, washed the muddy clothes, helped Ben with bedtime, read him books, vacuumed the floors, ect ect ect.

I am not complaining...I really am not.  It may sound like it, but I am not.  My point is: my day is non-stop when Steve is gone.  So, I deserve every second of ass time on the chair when Steve is home.  Next time he pats himself on his back, he needs to pat my back even more (insert big grin here).

Comments

  1. Joanna, I loved catching up on the last three posts. It's so funny how our lives feel so similar.. My husband is also training for a race, a 24 hour relay race over some huge distance. I think it's pure craziness, and have to admit that it throws me over the edge when he goes on a 4 day trip comes home to go to bed early, leave the next morning early for the race, come home the following day, straight to bed to catch up on the lost sleep from the 24 hour craziness, then start another four day the following day ( which happens to be fathers day this year) . Luckily we have some good vacation time next month.

    Oh.. And I've taken my son in several times for a lazy eye. The eye dr said it's minor and hopefully he'll outgrow it. I've noticed it more lately, so hopefully it's no trouble, especially since he's starting kindergarten in the fall.

    I appreciate the way you just tell it like it is.. The honest truth of how it can be hard to be a pilots wife, but at the same time the strength and support you are to your husband and the lifestyle.. Sometimes I could use a change of attitude.. And you help remind me of that. I wish we could be friends in real life.

    ReplyDelete
  2. You are too sweet Camille! Good luck to your husband with the race. Good vacation time is a good remedy for lengthy time away. As for the lazy eye, I am expecting the worst, hoping for the best. Strabismis, or however you spell it, runs in the family (my sister and grandfather) so I am expecting something along those lines. I hope it is something he will outgrow! The honest truth is the only thing I tell...no sense in faking anything, especially on a blog about being a pilot wife. Oh, we could ALL use a change of attitude...including me sometimes :)

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment