When you say nothing at all...

So how are you with the new job and the dog?

There's a loaded question if I ever heard one. I met the Husband's new lieutenant the other morning--he was over for a routine inspection of Helix T. Bomb Dog's kennel. Following the preliminary niceties of "Hi, how are you? Nice to meet you. You too," he asked that one.

In a spit second, I found myself struggling for a reply.

Did he really want the long answer? Does anyone really want the long answer? Even when they say, no really--I want to know? They don't want to know, do they?

Do I reveal to my husband's new boss that up until two months ago things were falling apart? Fraying at the edges? That hardly a day went by without one of us contemplated collecting our walking papers? That it had simply just gotten too damn hard to continue being nice to each other--let alone loving? Did he really want to know that in the past six years of living opposite schedules our relationship was possibly strained beyond what it could bounce back from? We weren't speaking. When we did it was with the least number of words possible. Then we would regroup, talk it out, determine something was broken but both clueless to how to fix it. Our three-year-old son was having uncontrollable meltdowns almost daily due to the lack of continuity in his tiny little world. Our one-year-old was waking up at night screaming--possibly for the same reasons? I was consistently being pushed beyond my own breaking point--rapidly heading for a breakdown. I would spend Sunday mornings weeping in the back row of church because there I was safe--I wouldn't have to explain why Mommy was crying. And we were both exhausted. Exhausted beyond belief.

Sean went on medical leave at the beginning of December. You may remember the infamous surgery story? He's been home just about every night since then. A few days before Christmas he was transfered to full time EOD--a weekday day job. Just in these few short weeks the change has been remarkable--flippin' remarkable.

It hasn't been perfect--but I never desired perfection. However, we discovered something. We actually like each other, he and I. Still. Our shared awake time is no longer filled with the frantic rush to get everything done in so few hours--everyone fighting for their share of time. Neither of us feeling as though we are low on the priority list of the other--merely getting what was left. We all have time now. Time to sit. Time to be. We're still tired--we do have two small children, after all! And Sean is still on the meds that kick his booty. But I actually get to sleep with my husband.

The little ones are still adjusting--Kyleigh still pulls Jacob off of Daddy's lap in jealousy (Sean suggested that we might as well go ahead and get her fitted for a tiara now) and Jacob still asks to spend some 'pecial alone time with him. But how much of that is normal sibling rivalry stuff? They are both sleeping peacefully at night now. Jacob is still having meltdowns--but nowhere near the caliber or frequency they had been. Now it's more out of frustration because his brain goes so much faster than his body. He's no longer fighting bedtime. Though Daddy does have to be the one to tuck him in. Mommy just won't do. And this past Saturday morning Sean got up with Kyleigh at 6 am and let me sleep. That right there proved that this man--who is and has always been the man of my dreams and love of my life--is still in love with me.

So, how am I with the new job and the dog?

I'm good.

And I recall saying it with a big, goofy smile on my face.