And he's gone. Again.

Dan left today. Again. Another business trip. To Little Rock. It's not fair! He gets to sleep in our house...and see his parents...and go to Sonic.

I could never be a single mom. Wait...he's gone so much these days...I am a single mom! I am sure neighbors think I am. My hat goes off to all you single parents out there. No one to help carry out the trash (down three flights of stairs...across a parking lot...toss into the dumpsters...back across the parking lot...back up the stairs...), no one to clean up after dinner, empty the dishwasher and load it again, no one to run to the grocery store to grab the milk you forgot or to the pharmacy to pick up the prescription, no one to pick up clothes at the cleaners, no one to help herd three people into bed at night and make sure all have brushed their teeth. No one but you.

But.

In the mornings, though, it is my sole joy to kiss their sweet faces, rub their little backs, brush the hair out of Katie's face, and rouse them out of bed. It's my joy alone to be there for those few minutes as they wake from a sound sleep and want to be held. There's that tiny window of time when they will let me kiss them all I want, hold them close, with no arguing, fighting, whining, or crying. Those days I am the only one who answers in the middle of the night, and who they run to when nightmares jolt them out of their slumber, who goes to them and I feel their little bodies relax in my arms, hear the tears stop, and know I brought them comfort. I made all the world better. And my heart hurts for a minute with the love I feel for them.

In some ways, it's odd when he's here for several days in a row. Now he shares both chores again, and the joys of being Dad. The second he appears at the door, they are climbing on him, pulling on every arm, leg, jacket sleeve. They are assaulting him when he arrives home, wanting, wanting, wanting Dad. I'm almost jealous. He does not have enough attention to give them, and I know he is tired. But he soaks up all the love and attention they offer. One airport blends into another, and sometimes even I forget where he has been, what airports he flew from and through. The trips blend together, the hotels are all the same.

In the 11 years since he accepted his first position in the pharmaceutical industry, the way we travel has evolved drastically. Until September 11, 2001, I would walk him all the way to the gate, and stay glued to the window until I could no longer see his plane. Sometimes I could see him in the plane's window, and I could see the melancholy on his face. That is, if I could see through my tears. The tears usually accompanied me all the way back to the car. And I would still be looking for a plane in the skies I thought he might be on...

Now, when I even take him to the airport, it's a quick hug and the obligatory photo. For his first trip in 1999 for training to New Brunswick, New Jersey, I took his photo of him by the door with his luggage. It morphed into a must-do or, well, the plane will explode. I hesitate to even type those words lest I jinx today's trip...

These days we panic if I forget the camera, and several times I have taken his photo with his phone or mine. On the way home, he has to get someone to snap a picture of him. For safety's sake, you know!

I'm not really a crier these days. It has to be really traumatic. But the first time he left for a business trip - back to Little Rock of course - after we moved into the apartment, I broke down on the the landing between the third and second floors as I watched his car drive away. I was so absorbed with fear, all alone in a foreign country with these people! How would I ever make it? WHO is going to help me? It was the first time in years I had lost it like that as he left on a business trip.

Somehow we made it. Bumbling along, we figured out how to do this thing by ourselves. So many of the experiences I've blogged about were when he was gone, and somehow this is when all the crazy stuff goes down. Hmmm...

Once again, we'll bumble through the week, but with fewer tears I hope. The day is young, though, so don't anyone hold your breath. So many possibilities, so much to do and see that I can't just stay in this apartment-the-size-of-a-college-dorm-closet, and so we will explore somewhere today - missing Husband and Dad.