How bizarre. . .
I felt the need to write (type?) and just remembered this blessing disguised as a website. I re-read my last entry and realized that I am logging in a few days away from the date of my last post– 2 years ago. Coincidence or not?
Not that it matters.
I signed in tonight because my husband and children are tucked away in their beds and I am up alone drowning my sorrows with nicotine, caffeine, and Hulu. (I’m a true rebel, right?)
As I watch my family get ready for bed and give them their nightly “goodnight-toogies”, I fight tears. This happens about every other night. Some overwhelming sadness just consumes me and then I am awake, alone, and sad.
I work the typical 9-5 (and to add to my vanilla-young-mom cliché of a life– I work at-home) while my dear rib donor works 4a-12p or 6a-2p. The specifics do not matter. What matters is that this is new and my anxiety-depression-self destructive nature can’t deal (at least not yet.)
For the past 8+ years, I worked 9-5 and he worked 8a-7p ish. We were running through fields of daisies because we shared a similar schedule and were both off on weekends! We went to sleep at the same time. We started our days at the same time. It was a lovely thing.
Now with this job change, he is home and tired and not really his whimsy-self while I am still working. After work, I cook dinner, stress about my online classes, keep my kiddos alive and well, and maintain our home. By 8pm, he has shut his mind off and is ready to catch some Zzz’s for work at 4am.
Meanwhile, my day is just winding down and I cannot find it in me to sleep at 8p or 9p.
In simpler terms, our schedule is completely off and my routine for the last 8+ years is moot. Everything is changing. My old buddy “lonely” is hanging out with me after everyone else is in the bed. Even though I know that I am not ‘unloved’, the feeling creeps up anyway. I even had a random burst of jealousy the other day and I am not proud of it. (My unsuspecting husband told me that his coworker had overshared embarrassing details of her life and later gave him a “Kudos-Card” for doing well on inventory and it sparked the nasty flame of jealousy) So I shut down, got a little pissy because I don’t know how to deal with being jealous. (He was able to coax the truth out of me in that sweet, sneaky way he does. So I had to admit I was jealous because he got an atta-boy from a female coworker.) I am an embarrassment to women.
My libido is on FIRE but it’s buried about 300 feet down. Under cement. It’s like I’m hot and bothered as hell, but I can’t find it in me to act on it because this new schedule makes it to where we’d need to do IT while the kids are still awake. Kind of a mood kill, huh? We went from doing it almost every night to maybe 2-3 times a week. And when I say 2-3 times a week, I am not talking about passionate sessions. I am talking about doggy-style. Vibrator. Thinking about the next day. 10 minutes tops. Don’t get me wrong– we mutually get IT done, but the feeling is fleeing.
I am so hot and bothered I have even been having some steamy dreams if I do say so myself. But. . . doing IT myself in-between our quickies doesn’t satisfy my need for my IT time with him. I need the passionate sessions. I need the intimacy.
Is this making any sense at all?
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