Parting Is Such Sweet Sorrow - But Reunion Is Just Sweet

Over the past two years since Herb and I have been married, there have been a few times that we’ve been apart for a few days or more. Since his daughter lives on the west coast and we live on the east coast, there have been frequent occasions that he goes to visit her: the annual Father-Daughter Dance at her school, visiting colleges, cheerleading competitions, etc. This past weekend, he flew out to meet her in Colorado to attend her freshman student/parent college orientation. He was only gone for three days, so it wasn’t an especially long trip, but I still missed him terribly.

I was quite proud of myself that I didn’t cry when I dropped him off at the airport this time – I usually kiss him goodbye with a tear or two running down my face. I know I can manage fine on my own, and I’m certainly not worried about his safety, but I do feel very alone when he’s away. But Ryan and I waved goodbye (OK, Ryan had fallen asleep in the back of the car, so there was no actual waving, but had he been awake he WOULD have waved) and drove back home.

Although it was Sunday, the routine wasn’t that unusual. I’m used to being alone with Ryan until dinnertime on most weekdays. So nothing seemed too out of the ordinary until I was making supper for one instead of two, and eating by myself instead of with company. And of course, when Ryan’s bedtime rolled around and I was the one doing “tubby time” and tucking in instead of Herb, it seemed a bit odd – but kind of nice. I’ll admit I’m a bit jealous that Daddy is the one to do the bedtime routine every night, but it’s such a special time for the both of them that I don’t mind. And because Daddy is away (or just out late) every now and then, I do get my chance to have that special time sometimes, too.

In fact, even the quiet evening after Ryan was in bed, when I was puttering around and working at the computer by myself, didn’t seem that unusual, because sometimes Herb does work late, or is at a rehearsal, or having dinner with a friend, or is taking photos of a show, and I’m home alone in the evening. The time that I really felt alone was going to bed by myself knowing that I’d be waking up alone, too. I never sleep as soundly when Herb’s not home.

But the best part of his time away is always that wonderful moment when he comes home. I knew that his flight was scheduled to land in Boston at 5:01am, so I figured he’d get home around 5:45 or 6. So when I woke up this morning just after 5am, I crept downstairs and unlocked the door so he wouldn’t have to fumble for his key. I checked on Ryan, who was sleeping soundly, and then tucked myself back in to doze for a bit. Not ten minutes later, I heard a car pull up and then I heard the downstairs door open. Even in my mostly-asleep state, I felt myself smile, knowing that my sweetheart was home again, safe and sound. As I heard his footsteps on the stairs, I managed to rouse myself enough to welcome him home as he slipped into bed beside me. And as I snuggled close to him, I knew that the sweetness of reunion was worth every bit of the sorrow of parting.

Early to Bed and Early to Rise...

...makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise. So said Poor Richard, aka Benjamin Franklin.

That may be true of a man, but for a baby, early to bed and early to rise makes for a cranky momma. Unless she is lucky, like me, and wonderful Daddy got up early with the baby this morning and let her sleep in.

Ryan doesn't really have a set daytime schedule yet, but he is falling into a nice nightime routine of tubby time at 8pm or so, followed by one last bottle and then bed at 9:00 or 9:30. He generally sleeps straight through till 7:30, no matter whether he goes down a little earlier or a little later. But every once in a while he throws us off by either getting up as early as 6:30 or sleeping as late as 8:00. Sleeping till 8 is just fine by me, and I'd love that if he'd do it every day. But that hour between 6:30 and 7:30 is a killer. I think the minutes prior to 8am automatically double in sleep value. So missing that hour is like missing two hours at another time.

During the day, I can sometimes manipulate his nap length by getting him to play really hard beforehand and then giving him a big bottle. Physical exhaustion + food coma = up to a 3-hour nap, hooray! But at night, he seems to be less flexible. I'd love to know what it is that tells him it's 7:30 and time to wake up. The neighbors leave for work at 6:00 (poor souls) so it's not the sound of their car engine starting. The sun rises at roughly 6:30, so it's not light creeping through the blinds. Heaven knows, it's not Daddy and Mommy's alarm clock that he can hear down the hall! I guess it's just some secret ingrained genetic clock, the same thing that tells the swallows when to return to Capistrano or the salmon when to start swimming upstream or the grizzly bears when to come out of hibernation.

So there's probably nothing I can do about it but get to bed a bit earlier myself. After all, if early to bed and early to rise makes a man (or woman) healthy, wealthy and wise, Ryan's just helping nudge me towards perfect health, piles of riches, and the wisdom of Solomon!