It's the End of the World as We Know It

Mr. Wicke walked out the door this morning.  Yup.  He did.  And he won't be coming back until 5:30 pm or somewhere around there.  After six years of working from home, he has joined the company of regular working people everywhere and is chained to an office away from home for the majority of the day.

His children don't like it, and already I am lonely.

The fact is that our children can not comprehend a father who isn't just around the corner behind the closed door of his office.  Last year, when he was away on a business trip, Logan complained so badly that she missed her daddy that finally I said, "You know, most people's daddies are gone every day!"

"What?!" she sputtered, as if her mind couldn't comprehend the notion.  I knew then that if he ever were to go back to a traditional working situation, we would be in for a rough adjustment.

For the last couple of weeks as this decision was on the horizon and Mr. Wicke and I were discussing the possiblities in bits and pieces here and there, Logan put two and two together and piped in with her own opinion.  "But, but, I don't want you to take the other job, Daddy, because you will be far away!"  And while Tempe is within a very reasonable commute, this morning, with the house so very still, he does feel far away, and I feel quite alone. 

In truth, it has been a blessing having him home so much of the time, although in the beginning I wasn't sure it would be so.  A husband working from home and a stay-at-home mom equals a lot of together time.  If I didn't make the beds or clean up the breakfast dishes until three pm, I couldn't hide it from him.  Not that he would ever say anything, but at first I felt like it was kind of on-the-job supervision all the time.  It wasn't long, however, before we fell into an easy rhythm.  He did his thing; I did mine; and we crossed paths all day long.  I'm going to miss that.

I'm going to miss his back up, his chiming in with a "Listen to your mother!" when things got a little hairy with the kiddos.  I'm going to miss being able to put the baby down for his nap and running out to volunteer at the school.  I'm going to miss being able to call him to come quickly to witness a childhood milestone.  I'm going to miss lunches together, random conversations throughout the day, quick kisses, little jokes.  I'm going to miss his voice, his presence...I'm going to miss him. 

As he left the house this morning, I kissed him and said, "You're going to have to learn to talk now."  He looked at me quizzically, and I continued.  "With you at home, I knew what you were doing, what questions to ask.  Now you're actually going to have to tell me about your day."  It's true.  Our lives, these last six years, have been intertwined in a way that is extraordinary for the average couple.

Not extraordinary in terms of accomplishments, perhaps, but certainly in that quiet space of respect for one another; for, in that time, we got to see just how hard the other works, and how one hand makes way for the other, working in tandem. I think it gave us a deeper appreciation for the contribution we each make to this little thing we call our life.

And I think we've come to a conclusion in these last six years, together.  I think we are starting to see that it isn't where we go between 8:00and 5:00 pm that really matters.  What really matters happens before and after, in the walls of our little home, in the hearts of our children and each other.  That's our work that really counts.

But, even so, when Mr. Wicke comes home after a long day today, I still can't wait to hear all about it. 'Cause I miss him.  Did I mention that already?