Strong is Overrated

The good news is that I've found my camera battery charger, which means that I'll be taking photos and uploading them again. It's only taken me a month of looking for it to find it, which really means a month of telling myself to look for it, and then finally finding it right where it should be; buried in my computer bag.

I've been rather busy. But you already know that.

(I hope that underneath all my exhaustion you can read the pure and joyous love that I have for my family. You can? Good.)

Chinua is in Amsterdam for a week, and judging from his emails, he likes Goa better. He used the word "grey" a lot in his description of landing in the cold city.

Whenever Chinua is away, I shove down that lost child that wants to wail inside of me, and become my strongest self. I need to. Of course, it's all just preparation for the meltdown that occurs as soon as his travel-weary feet cross the threshold again. That lost child is now very well aware that it was left alone for a long time and she is mad. Kind of like when your kids are playing nicely with some other adults, but as soon as you reappear, they all start crying and running toward you and clutching at your clothes in misery, and the other adults are all "Wha? They were doing so well!"

The other adults don't understand the power of suggestion. The mere sight of their mother suggests to children that they probably need something, what could it be?

And for me, after trips when my Superstar Husband is gone, the mere sight of him suggests to me that I'M SO TIRED I WORK SO HARD NO ONE KNOWS NO ONE UNDERSTANDS.


But, I know well enough by now to know that this meltdown is inevitable. All I can hope is that my Superstar Husband will be patient enough to shake his head sympathetically and click his tongue in disbelief (while I'm regurgitating small grievances at him) and it will be quickly over and then we can hug and kiss and dance around like fools. Because? I actually just really oh really miss him.