He's gone pretty often, most weeks for a few days really. Every now and then he'll be home a whole week - which is lovely. He works hard to minimize the nights away. But life is life.
I am soooo different when he's not here. I am somewhat less than my usual shining paragon of respect and attentiveness. I seem to revert to a me that was me some years ago - not the best me possible, trust me.
For one thing, I don't sleep very much or very well. Not sleeping does not do wonders for my patience or motivation, or "yes sir" attitude.
I do take care of the kids, the schedules, the house, and even the dog. Of course i'm always involved in those things, I'm the mom. We work together really pretty well in those things. There is a subtle but distinct difference when he's home vs. away, but it's a pretty seamless transition really.
I don't take care of me though. I neglect the basics and i seem to be unable to manage the other, above and beyond things i do to take care of myself as well. This is not ok with him. He pokes and prods and pushes, but this is invariably where i fall down.
It occurred to me last night, as i lay wide awake past midnight, that when he's gone, when i do sleep, it's on his side of the bed. [Yes, he's one of those. Absolutely, no matter what, where ever he is, he sleeps on his side of the bed. Me - i can sleep pretty much any which way.] Maybe there's something meaningful or some deep metaphor to the fact that i take his place in the bed when he's gone; maybe it's just closer to the alarm clock.
Maybe there is also some deep, metaphorical meaning to the fact that, when he's gone, as i assume the control i need to (kids, house, etc), i exercise less control of myself, and by extension, i am being and doing far less than he wants of me.