Missing the Little Man

My son is gone. 

Ok, I know that is dramatic and only part of the truth, but I am in a dramatic type of mood. Darren is actually visiting his grandma in Milwaukee. 

So he isn’t gone, but temporarily absent. Either way I have to deal with being just a wife for three more days, and who wants to do that?

Me, and not me. When I left for work yesterday I was proud of myself. I was teary-eyed, but no tears were shed. I made it through work without crying or excessive calling or texting. I gave myself a big pat on the back.

The dread set in on the drive home; twenty-five minutes to contemplate how I was going to spend a night (and the next several nights) alone with the hubby? So I tried to keep positive. He’s not that bad of a fellow to hang out with. He has a sense of humor, he a good, if sometimes frustrating, conversationalist, and when we go to sleep he doesn’t snore too loudly. 

So under my anxiety and worry I am looking forward to spending quality time with him.

That’s doesn’t explain why when I arrived home I couldn’t sum up the energy to go inside.

The dread I had been feeling had transformed in to quiet panic. What was it going to feel like walking into a house without my baby boy?  Whatever that feeling was I did not want to feel it. Nope, I would just have to sit here until I had to go to work in the morning. 

Then I got a picture text. My baby boy had officially arrived and he was smiling framed by a heart of rose. My jealousy spiked. Two seconds later I was bawling.

And that is how the hubby found me ten minutes later. 

“Why are you crying?”

“I’m fine.” Sniff.

“If it’s that bad we can go pick him up tomorrow.”

“No, that’s not the point.” I wipe my face. It really isn’t the point at all. Honestly, I do want Darren to have bonding time with his fraternal family.  I just don’t want to be six hours away when he does it. 

“You’re not going to be depressed like this all week are you?” The things men say that don’t make situations better.

“No, I’m fine.” I just need time to adjust. Please.

A little over twenty-four hours later I am partially adjusted. Thanks to some retail therapy in the form of a gift card; provided by the hubby (thank you very much) last week in anticipation of a possible meltdown on my part. He knows how to take my mind off of things.

Two days and a dozen hours until I see my little man again.

I can do this.

This is the picture his Uncle Rodney took today of him.  I so miss that face!