Summer Lovin'

My husband goes back to work today. And when he does, I will cry. Not that my tears indicate anything spectacular, save the rather spectacular nature of stress, but still.

Am a Big Girl.

He's been home for a two-week unpaid leave, just like every other newspaper employee in Our Fair City, and while it is scary and it does appear that his profession is on nothing more than a brief life's breath, it was really so lovely to have him here all the time that I will cry when he leaves, even knowing full well that he'll show up beside me sometime around midnight.

He is some kind of father, you know? Really. (not that that points out my own shortcomings, no sirree, but at least one of us is worth our parenting salt and that's good, I think.) He hauled those boys all over Tarnation and he did this of his own free will, whereas I would probably put them in the backyard, gesture toward the garden hose, and retreat behind a firmly locked door until mealtime. So it's good that he was here.

LRHF's therapy got rolling and that's like six (read: ten) posts right there, but it entails a series of monumental shifts in family time, family dynamic and family bathroom use. His therapists are here for 4 hour sessions just about every day, and they are lovely and energetic and fun (for god's sake!) and who can blame Fuzzy and Big Boy for wanted in on the action, right?
But alas!$32k Therapy is for the autistic, of which we have only one. So it's tricky. Rather like installing a water park in the back yard and refusing to turn on the water. Poor guys. And I'm so paranoid about LRHF getting what he needs that my patience is shot. And how do I explain? I mean, really? How do I explain all of this being about LRHF? I can't make that fair--I can't even make it make sense. So Daddy shepherds Fuzzy and Big Boy to zoos and science centers and aquariums and parks and baseball games. On his time off. In this weather. With those boys.

Oh my soul, I am grateful for him. (I know that you're thinking that I should show this post to him, maybe send it to him..."how sweet!" you're thinking. But sorry, he doesn't know that I write anything more than shopping lists.)

As with so much of the past year or so, this summer has shaken me to the core of all my everythings. There is kindergarten, paraprofessionals, finances, dementia, meds, (did I mention finances?) loneliness, autism, tomato fungus, and so much of the unknown that I can't fathom this snowglobe ever coming clear, no matter how long I wait.

But what I know is that when my husband leaves for work today I will cry--not out of anxiety (okay, maybe a little anxiety), but simply because he is my Beautiful Husband, my Very Great Love, and I will miss him.