RIP my sanity

My husband’s boss is a nice guy. I mean, really, he’s a great guy. This is a man who personally called up to check on me (having never met me) after I had a baby. He sent a baby gift, even. He’s taken care of Jonathan (and thus, the rest of us, since we’re now a single-income family) on the professional front, and has always been more than fair and generous to us.

That said, it’s days like today that I want to strangle the man. But really, I think this is to be expected. We are on Day 18 of my husband being gone, and I am losing. my. mind. A quick rundown of all that has happened since Jonathan flew out on May 6:

Russ spiked a fever.
Rocky (our dog) turned into an emo middle schooler (in dog terms, anyway).
The car didn’t want to start, and then – luckily – changed its mind. It was touch-and-go for a bit.
A limb fell out of our tree and damaged our neighbor’s fence (seriously embarrassing).
I missed most of my niece’s graduation having to cart Russ in and out of the auditorium.
Russ stopped pooping. No really. He just quit for about four days.
A particularly nasty experience trying to administer a glycerin suppository on the boy. That’s fun. 😦
103.4 degree fever, followed by a sudden jump to 104.3.
A midnight visit to the ER – Russ’s first ever, and sans Daddy. No bueno.
Russ’s second bout of Hand/Foot/Mouth in the past month.
The car didn’t want to start again. Changed its mind again. Whew.
Every toilet seat in the house is loose and I cannot for the life of me find the tools to fix it.

It’s just been a rough couple of days here at the end. For the first two weeks, I was really doing okay. I mean, I’ve learned to expect (no…assume) absolutely everything will fall apart at some point during Jonathan being gone. I guess perhaps its just Mother Nature’s way of making sure I’m on my game, or maybe a subtle reminder from the Universe that I’m blessed to have someone to do this parenting thing with 98% of the time. That said, as stated above, this last week of waiting for Jonathan to get home kind of leaves me cursing his boss and his company in general. I know it’s not  logical, and I’m only half serious.

Three weeks is too long for trips like this. It would be different if my husband was in the military or something. I think when you marry someone in the service, you have to know and accept what you’re getting yourself into. But Jonathan is a freaking auditor. And he doesn’t even audit books, he audits information systems – which can be accessed remotely from basically anywhere in the world. When Jonathan took this job, nothing was every mentioned about a straight three-week period being out of the COUNTRY. And it’s additionally frustrating because when Jonathan goes on international trips, it is very difficult to get in touch with him on an emergency basis. The company has no “emergency situation” plan for when the families left back in the states need to get in touch, or if something truly terrible happens and the employees need to get home ASAP. They just don’t think it warrants attention.

The other night when I had to take Russ to the hospital, I sent Jonathan an emergency email and he just happened to be sleepless at 1 am and saw it. Otherwise, the whole thing would’ve gone down and he wouldn’t have known until the next morning – at which point he would’ve called me in a panic at 3 am EST, because there’s a five-hour time difference. It’s just very frustrating to do this for three weeks. Parenting is mentally tiring, but physically it’s exhausting and Russ isn’t a light little newborn anymore. He is nearly 28 pounds of energy and opposition, and it’s taking a lot out of me at this point. My friend Grace and I joke that we don’t train to look a certain way or do a certain competition, but rather to keep up with our kids. But at this point, I’m losing steam.

Maybe this seems whiny or like I lack perspective, and if you think that, there’s a little button at the upper right hand corner of this screen that is going to help you out a lot. Turns out, after week three of this crap, I also don’t care if someone thinks I’m being a bi*** about all this. I’m tired. I want my husband back. I am done with this.

On the bright side, at least I’m not in the middle of a cancer scare this time around. As yucky as this travel period has been, it’s nothing like the mental/emotional roller coaster I got stuck on back when he went to Santiago in December. I don’t ever want to do that again.

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