I Prefer to Stand By My Man

My husband left today to go on a trip with his dad and brother.  And, as much as I hate to be one of "those girls," I must admit--I am.  I--a woman who bought and sold TWO homes, who adopted a baby on my own, who lived alone solving all the problems a household entails for many years--am now one of those cheesey, lovey, mush-mush chicks who can't spend a night away from her man.

First of all, I cried when he left.  Not sobbing (not until he was out of the driveway, anyway), but enough to get his shirt wet.  Yeah, part of it was because I am terrified of airplanes and he has to go in an airplane "there and back."  But mostly it was because my heart already hurt at the thought of him being gone for four days.

Second of all, I don't know what I'll do with myself.  Okay, yes, I'll be busy, because I'm staying at the family cottage with not just our three kids, but Chad's three as well.  (And, praise God, my mother-in-law will be coming to help during the days.)  I will be surrounded by children aged 13, 10, 9, 7, 4, 2.  One of whom is potty training.  One of whom could start menstruating at the drop of a hat.  Three of whom will be missing their actual parents.  So, yes--anyway, anyway--I will be busy.  But, who will read me useless fascinating information off the Internet news?  Who will laugh at my jokes?  Who will back me up when I say, "You kids are driving me to drink large quantities of kerosene!"?  Who will sit with me in the swing?  Who will listen to the loon, and take a moonlight boat cruise, and give me a smooch in the middle of the lake?

Third of all, I'm not going to get a lick of sleep.  Sure, I'll be exhausted.  But, after attending a writers' retreat for three nights, I can tell you that I am physically unable to sleep without my husband's back available for me to push my tush against.  I won't be able to fall asleep without talking about my day, laughing, sighing, planning for future days when these children finally get out of our house!  In the middle of the night, I will reach for Eric, to lock my arm through his, or grab just the edge of his shirtsleeve, or to hold hands.  In the morning, I'll wish for him to turn over, lay his arm across me, and go, "Aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhg!  YOU wanted all these children!"  (It's true, I did.  But so did he.)

And last of all, I'm going to be one of those sappy chicks who sprints when she hears the phone rings, checks her cell phone for emails or text messages every five minutes, who'll break off a conversation with you in a moment's notice if my man calls.  Eric said, "You don't think you'll have fun with the kids?"  Honestly, I really don't.   Being with Eric makes everything real in my life, makes me grounded in the "dream-come-true" that my life actually is.  If I can't share it with him, it's just not the same.  Given all the scenarios in the world, I would always choose the one where I am standing right next to my man.

Sorry to be "that girl," but I am.