that man i married.

our kids are at gram and grumps for the week, which means we can go to movies, i can stay up late, i can sleep in, i can watch whatever i want on tv, I can go in and get coffee rather than waiting in a misearably long drive through line, i can go play tennis, take naps and have lunch with friends that do not involve happy meals.

don't get me wrong....my house is eerily quiet...too quiet. In the morning and night especially I want to squeeze and snuggle my kids.....but I am enjoying my "freedom" and spending time with that man I married.

See most of other time he is my relief when he gets home, the lawn mower, diaper changer, monster scare awayer, tuck back -ner, discpliner, you take this one - i take that one guy. We do a lot of child handing off. We take turns at things like going to the bathroom by ourselves ( a rarity) or going for a run. We do plenty of things as a family but not so many things as just husband and wife ( we can thank Tess for scaring off so many babysitters).

So the last few days, I have been anxious for Shaun to get home from work......not so I can hand off kids and go to the grocery store with two in tow, but so we can go eat good food, talk about things and never have to spell out a word, have grown up drinks, go to movies and just hang out without waiting for someone to cry in the next room.

I'm anxious to get my kids back.......but for right now I am just enjoying having my husband back.

Comments

Alyssa said…

So sweet! And that's a great pic of y'all!

July 15, 2009 at 7:06 PM

Either/Or

Recently I met an old friend for lunch. He was actually my senior high prom date. He wasn’t just my prom date, but had been my friend for a good part of high school. And our group has mostly stayed in touch through the years. But not him. Even though we live in the same big metroplex, I hadn’t seen him in almost 15 years. At prom, He even won some kind of senior superlative, Mr. BHS or something like that. In other words, he was well-liked, nice, funny and smart. And it helped that he drove a Camero. We didn’t break up or have a falling out. He kind of just disappeared. And not just from me, but from everyone. And I had looked for him. At class reunions. On myspace. And eventually, only about a year ago, he finally showed up on facebook. When he did, I suggested we get together for dinner or something. And he responded with a really awkward email. Explaining that he was gay. Warning me. Trying to let me out of my dinner invitation if I wanted. And I already knew this. Possibly I had ev

me too

I used to never question God. It was just part of the way things were. Just like I believed in Santa and the tooth fairy and the Easter bunny. And eventually I grew up and started to wonder. I always believed, But occasionally I started to wonder if he was always good. If he really loved me. Singular me rather than an all inclusive version. That he was paying attention. That my prayers mattered.` And I didn’t know that I should play by the rules. That questioning these outloud things in a Bible study or Sunday School class Will get you bumped to the top of the prayer list. Because I know. But sometimes I wonder. And I didn’t need their scripture memory verses or their books or their prayers. (but I guess prayers never hurt) And I was just hoping for someone else to say “me too”. And, Jason Boyett’s book, O Me of Little Faith Is one great big “me too” And like most books I like he asks a whole lot more questions than he answers. Hard ones. Ones without real answers. Ones that make me wa

imaginary friends

Recently I had a friend disappoint me. I didn’t tell them. And I didn’t write about it when it happened. Instead I seethed a little and got angrier and slightly resentful and finally dumped it on my husband. (who had some great advice that will come later) And. I have hesitated to write this piece because a lot of my real life friends read this. Maybe even the one I’m writing about. Maybe not. Actually I’m not really sure. And to be honest the best pace to work this out would be with them. Just them. And not on line. But. It’s not really about them. It’s more about me. And I don’t think there is so much to work out anyways. So, if you are my real life friend and are reading this and wondering, hesitantly or fearfully if this is about you. It might be. But it probably isn’t. And again. Even if it is. It’s not REALLY about you. And if it isn’t. It could be. If we have been friends for more than five minutes, we have probably had a moment like this. So, back to me venting to my husband.

idontbelieveingrammar

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