When a person (namely, me) goes away for the weekend, she hopes and prays that all will be okay: the house will not crumble, the baby will be fed, and the husband will have the ability to wash his own dishes and do the laundry (I think the latter may be the most far-fetched). That said, there is a little part of all of us that wants to know that we are needed- that everything won't be completely “normal” while we're gone (I think it's time for us all to be honest here).
Don't get me wrong, I didn't desire catastrophic events to befall Kyle and Avery throughout Saturday and Sunday. Perhaps a little impediment along the way, though, so that I felt... missed.
So I had mixed emotions when I awoke on Sunday morning to the chime of my phone, indicating a new text message.
|Winnie, by the way, is our dog (not a child), who begins the night in her own, perfectly comfortable, dog bed, the sneaks under our covers once we've fallen asleep. Lovely.|
A part of me felt terrible for my poor hubby, who had stayed up half the night washing sheets and blankets, yet still had to get up with our daughter, regardless of his exhaustion (you know, like Mom).
Upon my return home, I was hoping for a few comments such as,
“How do you do it?”
“You must be some kind of superhero!”
“Wow- all this and you STILL look good? It's amazing!”
Instead, when I walked through the door, to my shock (and with a tad of disappointment), I saw that the house was pretty tidy, my laundry was folded neatly on a chair in our bedroom, and (I'm not kidding here) the bed was made! It was weird; On one hand, coming home to a clean house was a wonderful surprise, on the other, a voice in my head kept yammering, “Are you REALLY necessary? If everyone in the house can manage fine without you, what exactly is your purpose?”
My spirits were lifted, however, when I gazed into Kyle's tired, burnt out eyes. “This weekend. Wow. I feel like...” He repeated something similar just before passing out in bed by nine.
THIS made me smile.