The Better Half

Most of the time, my blog posts center on my kids and some of the experience and lessons I've learned from them.  This post is a little different.  This one is about my partner in parenting, my partner in life.

As many of you know, my job has me on the road a lot.  I've been on the road roughly half a month for each of the past four months. I love my job and I think I'm fairly good at it. The one part that's so tough is knowing, even after I come home from one trip, there is a date in the near future where I will have to say goodbye again for for the next one.

But, frankly, I probably have the easy part.

When I leave, my headaches are composed of uncooperative airlines and weather not designed for speedy travel. However, at home, life goes on. Early morning wake ups for band, a little boy who needs the attention of a parent from the moment his eyes open, a little girl who doesn't want to open her eyes (but school beckons anyway), lunches that need to be assembled, breakfasts for all, rides to school in traffic (and sometimes rain -- and we all know what happens to Tampa traffic when it rains...), permission slips to be signed, goodbye kisses to be delivered -- and that only he first two hours in the morning.  It's hard enough when there are two of us, but when I leave town, somehow, Blythe manages on her own.

She manages the laundry. She manages the meals.  She manages the rehearsals and the dance practices and after school activities and the homework and the dog and bedtime routines... And she does it with grace.

I know the term survivor guilt is usually applied to a situation where two people experience similar circumstances and only one survives, but I going to take some liberty here and explain that I feel "survivor" guilt when I'm on the road.

Blythe rarely complains, but I know when she has had a bad day. And a bad day isn't comprised of those activities I listed above -- that's a normal day. A bad day is all those responsibilities while dealing with a cell phone that refuses to work properly and realizing that my travel schedule means that she can't be at a Girl Scout sleep over for Emma and having the kids catch colds and not feeling so hot herself and having one of the animals get sick in the house....

Survivor guilt because  I want to help -- all I want to do is my part to help -- but I can't because I'm not there.

Blythe is a trooper.  She's been down this road with me before. She knows the trials of the traveling husband. She doesn't complain. And sometimes, that makes me feel worse.

I don't think this public sentiment of appreciation can aptly demonstrate my most sincere appreciation for all Blythe does for our family.... She's our glue and our rock.  Not just when I travel. Always. I'm very lucky. 

But tonight, when I only got to speak with her for twenty minutes between all the plates she was spinning and her desperate need for sleep after having a tough night with Sam last night  -- and getting up at the crack of dawn for Emma's field trip this morning...and still dealing with the other wake ups, and lunch preps, and breakfast needs, etc... I feel selfish for wanting more of her time tonight when she needed it for recovery.  So, instead, I'm just going appreciate her a little more, hope she is sleeping well, and look forward to my trip home on Monday when the team is reunited again. I love you, Blythe.