Today marks the 5th Monday that Brandon has been in Oroville, WA for work. What? You don't know where Oroville is? Never heard of that town? You may have seen in it this movie....gosh, what was the name.....oh, yeah, "Deliverance."
He's living in a rental house, sleeping on our Aerobed, eating the casseroles I've made him for dinner...and then lunch, and working. It's cold. It's boring. It's away from his family at the holidays. It sucks.
Meanwhile, I am working, taking kids to daycare, bathing kids, feeding kids, doing homework with kids, cleaning the house, taking care of the animals, paying the bills, baking cookies, shopping for Christmas, wrapping presents, taking care of car problems, getting the house ready for freezing temperatures, and on and on and on. It's busy. It's frustrating. It's lonely. It sucks.
The kids constantly ask when Daddy is coming home. Last week Logan asked me for the number of the boss so that he could call him and tell him to let his Daddy come home. They are acting up, they aren't minding their manners, I can't imagine what parent's going through a divorce face on a daily basis.
Until yesterday, I have been okay with the situation. It's what we've got to do right now, and so be it. He drives the 6 hours home every Friday night and takes off again on Monday morning. We're getting a paycheck. And in the winter, when you're a carpenter, in a recession, that is something to be grateful for. It wasn't until this past Sunday that it really got hard. We met Brandon in Leavenworth on Friday for a weekend of tree lighting, swimming at the hotel pool, board games, meals in restaurants, and snow. It was a pretty good weekend. But saying goodbye, even just that half day early, was tough. I wanted to cry. Lilly did. Logan just wanted to get in the car so he could play the DSi.
And so I am grateful. Grateful for the work, grateful for the paycheck that allows me to live in my super-fantastic-Christmasy house and have all the things we have. But I'm ready to be done. I want my husband back.
Nik
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