When I came in from putting little Joseph to sleep, my husband shut off the light and said goodnight. It was only 8:30.
I’m not ready to fall asleep, so here I am writing and trying to count my blessings because right now, it seems all my “yins” are being battered about by cranky and pushy “yangs.” First, I’m certainly glad my husband is over his cold. It has been a number of weeks now where he has been too concerned about passing the icky virus to me to cuddle too close, thereby down-grading romance to pecks only, and a girl can only go so long on pecks. And then just today I came down with my own cold.
…And while we all know motherhood is truly a lifestyle of giving, of meeting the needs of everyone else, 24/7, I am thankful my kids have been lovable and snuggly and full of good cheer lately. However, the lovable snuggliness has reached a fever pitch: when little Joseph goes several days between his nursery school classes, (Martin Luther King’s “dream” was not to close the schools but to have all children in class together!) causing sizable gaps between “mommy-‘n-baby” times, baby Noah goes on strike, turning away food, bottle and extraction from my arms, in favor of only nursing and being carried about. The child is now over 25 pounds, so this poses a challenging physical demand, particularly as I try to play with, cook for and wrangle my toddler at the same time. Much less pick up around the house once in a while.
No, this isn’t “woe is me”; on the contrary, these are unquestionably the best days/years of my life. Yet just right now, for all the clinging little arms and endless baby kisses and hugs, tonight I have the audacity to admit that I’m lonely for my husband’s attention, lonely for him. And now that I’m the sicky, just how much longer am I going to have to go without his warm embrace? I concede that he has an unbelievably immense workload on his shoulders, and he dedicates himself tirelessly to bettering our home and building our future (I’m in awe of all he accomplishes), yet the basic foundation of this household is our relationship, and it needs a respectable place on our list of priorities. To be a good mom and wife, I need to recharge, and I can only assume he needs to, too. While a spa treatment, or, well, chocolate cake would be very nice, what I’d really like is to recharge with him: walk hand-in-hand together, share an uninterrupted conversation, have some time to play, just the two of us. I’m wookin’ pa nub.
Tomorrow morning, he leaves for a business trip. He won’t be gone long, but I do wish that tonight I wasn’t typing in solitary in the half-dark, but holding him–and being held.