Since moving I have seen my husband for a total of a day and a half. Soon he will be home and available more often (twice a week and on weekends) but for now, even a day and a half was a dream. Most of you have some idea how exhausting and draining small children can be and adding a teenager to the mix certainly stirred things up but for the most part I can honestly say I have few complaints about dealing with the kids by myself; they are joyful children for the most part and I mean that sincerely. Are there meltdowns, daily? Absolutely. Are there moments when I would sell every one of their asses for a nickel a pound to the first bidder? You better believe that shit is true. But overall, the days are sometimes long but they are filled with love and genuine enjoyment of each others company. In summary: I dig those babes like a ditch is what I'm saying (even though the only box we left in WA contained the dvd's and player and we were without ANY electronic entertainment for several weeks: LAWD!! But we all survived).
But my husband. Oh my beautiful husband D. I had no idea (or no time, really) how much I really missed him until he got here for a brief interlude. The little kids were out of their minds with anticipation and C was nervous because it had been a pretty long while since she last saw D and she was convinced for some reason that, ''he wasn't going to like her'' and no matter what I said, she was unbearably nervous. Right up until D got here, hugged her and told her he was glad to have her here. She exhaled, finally and all was right for all the kids that night. My husband is made of magic, compassion and empathy, I swear to it and a blood test would prove it.
In those few hours, he relaxed the kids, loved me and brought his spirit into our (temporary, heh) home. The air was lighter after he was here and the burden I was beginning to feel felt shared with his shoulders because with D even when he isn't here, he is here, with me. Always. I don't know how I forget it sometimes, maybe because the days get filled with refereeing and passing out snacks but my obligations, my urgencies, my concerns are his too and that will never change. Seeing him though gave me a needed reminder at just the right time. My love for all of these children is his love for these children, my hurt and loss for our Jackson is his as well. Everything good, bad or indifferent is ours to share, nobody has to sag under the weight under a cross being beared unfairly as we always in our hearts, in our spirits and in our minds share the things of import and try to disregard those things that aren't, to not get bogged down in mindless, soul sucking minutia that distracts from the people and circumstance that actually matter and make a difference in our lives.
My husband is passionate, he is sensual, electric in an inexplicable way that has drawn me to him from the very first day we met. He can convey primal love to me with a glance, his fingertips barely holding my face to his as his lips brush across mine softly, at first. I realize it's considered declasse to discuss openly the sex shared between those who are married but that isn't actually what I mean to convey, sex as an act or a limited, needs-meeting congress of any two people; what I am saying about my husband isn't that I crave him, want him, need him, desire him in ways that end with fluids exchanged, a transaction ended although all of those things are factually correct. I want his passion, his kisses, his all enveloping love wrapped around me, planted sweetly on my forehead, my cheeks, my neck, a gentle conveyance of his emotion, his commitment, his desire to share this life, this world, these kids, this future with me.
With his arms around me and his strong, firm hands resting on the small of my back, I know that this life is a good one and I am fortunate to have D sharing it with me.
