A Half is not a Whole

My husband is awesome. In his own words, he works 0645am to 2045pm every day. He's a house-husband. (And they said being a housewife was the hardest job in the world) The house-husband not only has to take care of the kids, cook, straighten up, etc... but he's also got to do the things that the wife needs done. Nicolas isn't my other half... He's like my other three-quarters. How do I know? Because I'm dying without him.

Occasionally, a three-day weekend comes along and I want to give back to the husband who does so much. I realize that it can get exhausting, looking after 3 little girls (and one big one) all the time! So, while we're in Europe, I try to afford him every opportunity to go have some time to himself and take a breather from us. It usually consists of a three-day weekend with his cousin in the Netherlands. I don't know what they do together when he's there (and really don't care...) Just so long as Nicolas is happy... sleeping late, drinking beer, and just being free of all the worry and stress here at home. I love when he comes home re-charged and ready for another couple months of hard work :)

But... a couple of hours after he leaves - my fire starts to go out... I picked up Victoria this afternoon and looked out the window at the setting sun and thought to myself "ugh... this is going to be the longest 3-day weekend of them all." I almost cried. I couldn't think of anything I wanted to do (or needed to do!) The only thing I could think of that was missing from my life, was him. He emailed - he made it safe.

Just about the only good thing with him being gone, is I get to hog the bed all to myself. Oddly enough - when he isn't here.... I find myself drawn to his side of the bed. As if there's a magnetic pull, my body looking for that other three-quarters that is missing. I know, it's only 2 nights and he'll be back. Until then, I'll find something to keep my mind off of him! (I love you baby...)