I don't know how many times now Andrew's return date has changed. First it was Monday, then maybe Wednesday, then - hooray! - Sunday night. Now it's just "sometime next week". And each time, it's another let down and I get sad and pissed off all over again.
I need to get a life. I'm pitiful, really. When he's working in town, I spend my days looking forward to the moment he walks in the door. I turn down play dates, shopping, lunches out whenever he's off for the week because all I want is to spend my time with him. And now that he's out of town I'm kind of lost, without purpose, because my husband isn't around to reel me back in at the end of each day. He grounds us, really, and without him around life is sort of chaotic and unstructured because we're all just waiting for him to come home.
Jesus, just reading that makes me sound pathetic.
So I'm done. I'm done sitting around missing him, wishing he were here to see funny things the baby does or hear Chloe sound out a new word. I'm not going to be sad anymore that I can't share with him from the hilarious book I'm reading, or show him my latest knitting experiment. I'm not going to waste away while I refuse to cook for only the children, and I'm not going to depend on him anymore for my "adult conversation". Everything is so centrally located on all four of us together, even if for only an hour or two a day. I think it's time to re-center. It's time to restructure a new little world that doesn't depend on him so much. We can do this - we're girls, we're tough. We don't need a man to hold us together, right? I can do without companionship and conversation and good lovin' at night.
I need to make more friends. I need to get out of the house more. I need to find things to do that occupy my time.
Blah. Don't listen to me, I'm pathetic.