Three Weeks…

Three weeks is the amount of time it takes me to get used to any change in my schedule. Kids going back to school or starting summer vacation, my going back to work or quitting a job, getting accustomed to my husband being home all the time when he was first laid off…you get the idea. It takes me three weeks to go from total bewilderment to a new happy groove.

My latest situation has been no exception. A little over three weeks ago we had some good news/bad news around here. The good news: my husband went back to work for a construction company that has numerous jobs lined up that will give him enough work for at least a year. The bad news: those local jobs don’t start until June or July. Until then he’ll be working in Georgia. We live in Michigan.  He was given a few days to pack, drive down to Georgia, and report for work.

I know this is a great opportunity. I know we’re lucky he has a job. I know this is our choice. I also know this separation sucks. I’ve never had a greater respect for military wives, and I’m not even going through a tenth of what they do.

Back to talking about adapting to my current situation. Today marks the end of the third week since my husband left. It’s been… interesting.

Week 1: A frenzy. Two outings with girlfriends that were planned ages before the new job came up. Recovering from not just my husband’s departure, but also hosting Easter dinner for 20+ of our family and friends. And a realization of exactly how much my husband does around here.

Week 2: Acceptance. Started to get the hang of what slack I need to pick up, and what I could delegate to the teenagers. Cancelling some appointments, rearranging others. A false sense of calm descended.

Week 3: The Glitches. Where to start? How about with the toe I stubbed, and looked like I had broken. My beloved hairstylist quitting  without letting me know. My toddler getting sick. The stove dying. The bank confusing me with someone else, and bouncing my payments. And, just to make things a little more interesting, let’s toss in a couple of emotional whammies: receiving my toddler’s preschool enrollment packet for next fall, and my oldest turning 20. Those two events happened within two days of each other.

Now we’re entering week 4, and the new groove is starting to show its self.  This morning I woke up with a clear game plan for the weeks ahead. All glitches from last week have been resolved. I got through the emotional stuff without getting a tatoo, or at the very least curling up in a fetal position with a bottle of vodka. I’m ready to embrace this  “happily married single parent” phase of my life.  But I can’t wait for my next three-week adjustment when my husband comes home.

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