Andrew came home tonight. He got home at six, after four days of being gone, and was in bed by eight, leaving at two in the morning. He'll be home late tomorrow, but will then be gone for, presumably, the entire week.
That meant we had two hours to visit, cuddle, kiss, update, and enjoy one another. Chloe, Cora and I all turned into spazzes. It's amazing the energy that man brings into this house. It's almost comical, Chloe and I trying to talk over one another, Cora squealing and screaming and otherwise begging for his attention. I haven't been in the presence of another adult since he was home last Wednesday, except for my in-laws, and they don't count. When he comes home, I talk. And talk, and talk, and talk, as fast as I possibly can, relaying every thought, idea and story that have crossed my mind in the past several days. I'm sure he finds it exhausting. Poor guy. This all punctuated by Chloe climbing all over him, literally smothering him with pillows, and Cora saying "Uh? Uh?" with her arms extended, begging for him to hold her.
It's two hours of chaos. He's probably glad to be going back to work. I would be, if I experienced that every time I walked in the door.
And now I'm on my own with our two adorable little monsters for another week.
I warned him before he went to bed, "There's a good possibility the next time we see you, the children will be duct-taped to the wall, and I'll be hiding in the far corner of the yard, furiously knitting a sock..."
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