Paul has been gone for 9 days. Only 25 more hours. It's gone much better than I expected. There have been some bumps in the road - fights, temper tantrums, meltdowns, a broken toilet and an unexpected doctor appointment. I think I've found the right balance of activities and relaxing at home. After dinner, we cuddle up and watch a movie before bedtime. Bedtime has gone pretty smoothly. I've been able to stagger their bedtimes so I can spend time with both. I've managed to keep the kids fairly clean, fed and under some control.
I was foolish enough to think the kids wouldn't fight as much because Sara is in day camp this week. Wrong! They still have some fight in them at the end of the day. I guess it's how they show they missed each other. I'd prefer they just hug and kiss then keep their distance from each other.
Sara has been begging me to do a sleepover with her. Once our kids outgrow the bassinet, they get banished to their own rooms. Unless traveling, we don't share a room with our kids. We even try to avoid sharing a bed, if possible. It stems from self-defense and self-preservation. It is a physical mystery to me how someone can take up more than 3x their body size in a bed. I agreed to let her sleep in her sleeping bag in my room a couple times this week.
We will all be happy to see Paul when he returns. We have survived his 10-day absence. The house is a wreck. There are toys everywhere. The dust bunnies have become family pets with names. The lawn is a jungle. Laundry is piled up in every room. But, we survived. I figure if the house is in one piece, the kids are alive and I'm still relatively sane after 10 straight days, it was a success.
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