Today was... another day. A day like any other day. A day like every other day. My husband had the day off today, but we still haven't seen him. He rode in a bike race - a long one. He is still not home.
Why is it that after all of these years in medical training that I still expect my burden to be lightened when my husband returns home... I don't know. Because, really, it isn't, even in the slightest sense of the notion, ever. Residency demands a lot - physically, mentally, and emotionally. He comes home after long hours, for a brief respite before returning to the hospital for more.
Don't get me wrong. I love my husband to pieces, and I know that he loves me. In fact, I am quite convinced that this is the reason I cannot wait to see him each day. But, sometimes I need my burden to be lightened. Desperately. Sometimes I need more than just to see him, to get a sweet kiss, to exchange hellos. Sometimes I need him to enter the room to see my frazzled self with pleading eyes looking at him and have him say, "I'll watch the kids while you go for a run."
Sometimes when he has a day off, my husband can tell that I need a break. And sometimes he does offer to watch the kids for me while I go on a run.
But, why am I perseverating on this today? Usually, he works on Saturdays. Usually, he works every Saturday. Why should I bemoan his not being home, when I am totally and completely used to him not being home on Saturdays... even if I know he is biking?
Sometimes I look forward so much to the days that my husband has off work - particularly when it is a Saturday. I don't know why. This may be pre-programmed. Saturdays should be different, right? Fun and carefree, full of excitement and adventure, and lots of sunshine - maybe I haven't left my college mentality behind.
I think I need to take my own advice, advice that I have given to many residents' wives, to have no expectations.
Or, maybe I need to become a grown-up - finally - and accept that Saturdays aren't any different than all the other days of the week.
Or... maybe I should enter a race, one that goes from 5 a.m. until 11 p.m. at night. Would that make one of my Saturdays any better? I highly doubt it. Plus, I would dread it for months beforehand.
As I delved into my self pity and started reading one of my favorite sites, I found a link to a great article, Making Time, posted on Outside Mom. It gave me a lot to think about.