Okay, sarcasm aside, there are some ways that it's nice when he's not home:
-The weather is decent this time. We can escape the house without thirty minutes of putting on clothes, then taking half of them off to go potty or change a diaper, and then putting them back on again. On really nice days, we can just walk for ten seconds and be at a playground.
-I tend to go to bed earlier. Used to be, when he went away, I'd stay up until 5 in the morning. But the last few times, I'm asleep by midnight. Thank you, drugs. And thank you, aging brain and body.
-Freedom! Kind of. Ish. I mean, the kids are not exactly independent adults yet, but if we feel like going to the playground at 11:30,we don't have to worry about being home for Jeremy's lunch.
-When he's gone, I get a weird drive to tackle huge projects that I wouldn't normally even want to think about.
This time I think it will be decluttering. Since we had movers last time, I didn't do my traditional Household Purge, in which I throw out or donate everything that isn't nailed down or being worn by someone right that minute. So we have all this stuff lying around driving me crazy, but I haven't done anything about it because this is normally the sort of thing I hate dealing with (mostly because spiders like to pop out and scare the living daylights out of me every time I open a box).
We moved from a 1600-foot house with a terrifying basement to a 1200-sq-ft apartment with a tiny garage. We have never actually parked a vehicle in that garage even though we've lived here for a year. Ridiculous.
So I got all cocky and thought I was starting to get into shape, right?
I went and did this workout (not every single set all the way through, but I did 1/4 to 1/2 of each one, I think). My sister posted it a few months ago, but I was too chicken to try it. I did not want to know how terribly weak I really am--especially my legs.
I did *that yesterday.
Today I can barely walk. My arms are fine (thanks, swimming!), but my woefully neglected legs rain down punishment every time I move. I took the kids to the park and "ran" a few laps around the playground, started feeling good again, got home, sat down for .5 seconds, and my muscles were already so stiff I had to kind of roll forward off the couch. I'm thinking Saturday will be a good day to try to start moving again.
It's okay, though. It's not the injury sort of pain, just the YOU REALLY NEED TO WORK HARDER THAN THIS, YOU SISSY kind of pain. Next week when I try it again, it will maybe only be three days before I can walk normally again.
*For some reason it won't embed the whole thing, just the warmup. Irritating.
We enrolled The Child in swim lessons. This might be interesting. There are a lot of things she's afraid of, but she has been terrified of water from birth. She didn't stop screaming through baths until she was something like two (and I don't mean just the hair-washing). Now she remains calm even through hair-washing, and last week when we went swimming, she even enjoyed some splashing and wandering on her own. It's exciting progress; when she's 14, she may even be able to take a shower!
I really am hopeful, though. Dogs have been another big fear, and lately she's been walking up to strange dogs and asking to pet them. She's still scared, especially if they look at her. Maybe she thinks if a dog looks in her eye, it will eat her soul. But she hasn't actually screamed over a dog in at least two weeks.
So, we'll give swimming a go. She's got crazy long arms and giant flappy feet like me, so maybe she'll be a natural. I was afraid of water like she is until THIRD GRADE. Then my parents put me in swim lessons, and that was the end of that. So... wish her (or the instructor) luck!