I feel terrible for admitting it. This is not how a new wife is supposed to feel. But…
I don’t cry when That Husband leaves on business for 3-4 (sometimes 5) days during the week.
Maybe it’s because I resigned myself to this lifestyle when I decided I wanted to marry him. Or maybe (and this, I believe, is the real reason) it’s because I’m independent enough to do okay without him.
When he is gone I can be selfish. I make dinner when I want it, I play loud music when it pleases me (though it doesn’t seem to please our upstairs neighbor), I consume less waste so I don’t have to get up early to take the trash out every MWF, and I can leave the dishes in the sink for days just because I feel like it.
I try my best to be a model stay at home wife whenever he returns. The kitchen is clean, the dishwasher is running, dinner is on the table, the bed is made, the sheets are washed, the house is vaccumed, the dirty clothes hamper is empty, the clean clothes are put away, and this week there will even be pictures hung on the walls that weren’t there before. I kiss him hello and give him my best June Cleaver smile.
I realize that when we have kids this selfishness will be a thing of the past, and it’s likely that our arguments will revolve around how often he is gone and how difficult it is for me to cope with that. But that is then, and this is now.
Except I will say that I feel a little pang of regret when he calls to say he will be home Friday instead of Thurdsay. And that the bed sometimes feels really cold without him next to me (albeit at least an arms length apart). And I miss our hugs, and our kisses, and our nightly scripture study. And I miss feeling like I can take care of him when he scrounges around the kitchen for a snack. And the way he says “hon” and the clothes he leaves on the bedroom floor without fail every single morning when he is home.
So there are no tears, just a little bit of sadness.