Acclimating…again

I’m really not sure why, but all of my thoughts and creative juices seem to start flowing around 9:00 pm every single night. I would love to be able to lay down and just go to sleep like semi-normal people do. But I can’t. Instead, my mind waits until I can’t hold my eyes open any longer to decide it wants to unwind. Like now…I’m writing this post at 10:50 pm on Monday evening. Why couldn’t my writing mentality and want-to have kicked in about six hours ago? Or even three?

I am a mere days away from reuniting with my husband in California. And despite how unbelievably excited I am to have him home and for our little family to be back together again, I’m secretly [okay, well I guess it isn’t really a secret anymore, is it?] terrified of what’s to come. We have been apart for eight months now. In that eight months, the two of us have changed. We’ve remained faithful and trusting of one another, but I know that I am not the same person that I was when my husband left. And I know that my husband isn’t the same person he was either. And that scares me to death.

Not that I am worried that my marriage is doomed to failure or anything. But, it’s almost a feeling like we are going to be meeting for the first time again or something. Despite having talked on the phone and webcam with one another every single day since he left {something that I am beyond thankful to have been able to do}, it’s not the same as being with someone in person. Hubby and I have led two separate lives for the past several months; lives that were still intertwined, but separate nonetheless. I’ve been here, learning more and more about who I am, what drives me, and what I want to do. I’ve been raising our child pretty much on my own; making choices and decisions using nothing more than my own judgment. I’ve been in charge of all teaching and disciplining aspects of our sons life. I know every move he’s going to make before he makes it. I know what he is saying when he starts talking. I understand his toddler jargon. I’m used to be alone at this point.

Eight months is a long time to spend by yourself. I’ve accustomed to doing everything single handed. I know how much time it takes to get myself and Little Man dressed and out the door. We have patterns and routines that are set for just the two of us. I have grown accustomed to sleeping in the middle of the bed and taking ridiculously long showers because no one else needs to use the hot water. I hog the bathroom. I hog the covers. I don’t make the bed most mornings, because no one is around to fuss about it looking sloppy; and no one is coming home to care. These are all things that I’m going to have to readjust to when Hubby gets home next week.

I admit that I’m scared. Scared that I’ve become somewhat too independent for my own good and won’t know how to let my husband back in. I’m scared that he’ll have experienced things, seen things, done things that I will be completely out of the loop on. I’m scared we’ll feel totally disconnected. I’ll be out there for only two short days before we have to come back home to the “real world” so it isn’t like we are going to have a lot of catch up time. I just wonder if that short amount of time will be enough to regain some sort of connection.

In my heart I know that it will be. And as I sit here and re-read all that I’ve just written, I find myself laughing because I know that it most likely won’t be a huge, major adjustment to acclimate to living with my husband again. It’ll be great to have someone here to share the parenting duties for a change. To have someone other than myself around to take Little Man to the potty or give him a bath or get up with him in the morning so I can sleep late for a change. It is going to be extremely nice to have someone to snuggle up next to in bed for a change. I hate rolling over to that cold spot in the sheets every single night. It’ll be nice to have someone to laugh at the silly things our son does; to share the jokes and the humor with. Those are the tiny things I miss most. To have someone else to help me drag all of our stuff out the door when we decide to spend the day out rambling and shopping. To have someone else around to DRIVE for a change. I’ve driven everywhere for the last eight months and I want a break! Hahaha!

It’ll be nice to have my husband here to hug and kiss and hold hands with. To be able to walk through the mall hand in hand; or to stop and give a kiss just because. Or to be able to tell him something right when I think of it without having to wait for a break in his schedule and class time to tell him…that tends to take the excitement out of something when you have to wait six hours to share it.

Just a few more days…I’m growing more and more impatient by the minute. And of course, this week, this final week before I get to go see him and drag him home, is the first week in five that I don’t have something going on every single day. Thursday evening and Saturday afternoon are the only days booked on my agenda. The rest of the time, it’s just me and the little guy…home with nothing to do but stay warm in this cold weather we’ve gotten.

And wait…