So, The Calm One is home. (Enter Hallelujah Chorus here) All is right with the world again.
Except . . .
Well, adjustments have to be made. Good ones, of course, but adjustments just the same.
*More shoes are piled next to the door instead of on the shoe rack NEXT TO THE DOOR.
*All of the sudden we are going through more toilet paper than I thought humanly possible (potty-training Mark has MUCH to do with that I am guessing)
*I have to put more thought into meal planning. Kid food + adults = poor gastrointestinal choice!
*I am no longer the only adult in the bed on TCO's night off. Neat, unwrinkled sheets and blankets are but a distant, fond memory. Hello to half the bed clothes ending up on the floor.
*The Calm One works night shift. You know what that means: kids have to be reminded (quite often) that Daddy is sleeping. How do you make a rambunctious three and loquacious four year old be quiet at 10:30am? Anyone? Anyone? I am serious here. Help a gal out, would ya?
*And of course now I have to remember to say things like, "You want to go out to eat? We'll have to check with Daddy." "A trip to the Carousel? Let's ask Daddy." And then I'll actually have to check with Daddy.
It's the checking with Daddy part that trips me up once in a while. I am so used to Daddy being gone and having to make Every-Single-Decision-By-Myself, that having to rely on TCO for final decisions is a step in the whole process that sometimes gets left out.
And yet, I am so glad to have him to share the burden with and take responsibility for the decisions.
He had to remind Michael the other night that Daddy will have to answer to God for each decision he makes in regards to raising them. I am so glad to not be the head of the household.
For the control-freak that I am, it's not been an easy lesson to learn, but I am learning it.
And learning to love it. Doggone it.