132. Back

The past two weeks my husband has been out of the country. It has not been an easy two weeks. I swear my children have been testing me like a pack of velociraptors, prodding my emotional fence for weaknesses. It's not as if they did anything massively horrible: no one ran away in the store or painted their sibling or broke any dishes or furniture. But there were lots and lots and lots of little things. And each day I became a little more frazzled and a little less patient and they became a little more whiney and a little more naughty. 

And then there was the rough sleep. If you know me or follow my motherhood posts, you know how much I depend on naptime and that quiet time to myself between their bedtime and mine. When I don't get a good night's sleep, my patience goes out the proverbial window. My sleep and my niceness are a set. Where one is plentiful, so is the other: Where one is lacking, the other follows suit. It's a cause and effect deal here, and it's real. So of course when I'm already having a rough time (did I mention within the first 24 hours I had a choking 9 month old and a trip to the hospital for chest x-rays? Yeah, good way to start a two-week-alone stint...not) my kids decide that they don't actually need sleep. Why would they want to let me get the rest I need to keep my sanity? That's just ridiculous. In the last two days my kids have napped for less than an hour and a half...total! Normally we get about 2.5-3 hours of napping per day. Add to that the random wake-up-and-wail-for-an-hour party thrown by Berto and the handful of shorter but no less sleep-depriving random midnight cry fests he felt the need to indulge in. Also, my kids woke up at 6:30 this morning. So. Not. Cool. I woke up to them playing in the bathroom, went in to herd them back into bed, and stepped in a puddle. I'm not positive it was pee, but their behavior about it did not assuage my fears. 

Anyway, the point of all of this is to say that God knew what he was doing with marriage. Yes, there's the whole one-provides-one-nurtures benefit, but this week I am convinced that among all the other many many many reasons I love and need my husband, I need him for my mental health. I need that person who will tell me things will be okay, but will understand that I need to get my worry out. I need the man who will give me a hug and comfort me, even though I'm being overly concerned about something. I need the man who knows how much I adore my children, even when I complain about their whining and complaining. I need the man who will make me laugh at finding ten trains under Thomas's pillow. I need the man who will fall asleep next to me, holding my hand, radiating love, comfort, and calm. He has only been home for three hours and already I feel my nerves relaxing. The buzzing energy that has been swirling through my brain for twelve days is finally dying down. I know things will be okay again, because my other half is back.