Martin and I have been married ten and a half years now. We love being with one another, and when Martin's gone, I often begin saying something truly stupid or want to sing a song in falsetto and there's nobody around to laugh. He is my best friend. And like best friends, we always benefit from a little time away from one another. You know, "absence makes the heart grow fonder" and all that rot.
It's not that we don't miss each other--I look forward to seeing him every day he's gone--but it's just that we do fine without one another. And I'm finally to the point where I don't go into a blind panic alone with the three children, though I was SO happy, after three days, to pick up my good mother from the airport. We have been eating junk--hot dogs and Sonic burgers and Sam's Club samples and chocolate cupcakes and Target popcorn (the children's clothes are stained with cherry Icee)--though tonight we went into detox mode and steamed broccoli and carrots for dinner.
When Martin calls I greet him with a jolly, And how was YOUR day? To which he answers, GRRRREAT. . .I graded (today it was in the hundreds of) essays. Basically he just hunkers down around a table with huge bowls of candy and bottles of water (for the record, he's been eating much better than we have and stopped after only two Starburst the first day!) and reads essays for eight hours straight. After hours he and his buckaroos stroll through Louisville finding good drinks and eats and telling writing/teaching anecdotes. And he and I have made a pact to send out manuscripts to at least five journals while he's gone (it's supposed to be one-two a night but I've been lagging after my mother's arrival. Who wants to spend time staring at a computer when you can be with your mother?)
When Merry was tiny, Martin took off for a month two summers in a row--once for a fellowship, and once to make us some money. That was a LITTLE long--long enough to get into my own swing of things and go into culture shock when he returned. A week is nothing. Merry asked why he had gone and I said, "To make money for your playhouse," which seemed to please her. And don't tell him, but a week is just long enough to enjoy a little girl time--though four of us in the bathtub at once was a bit too close quarters for me.
