I've bounced around this last couple of weeks between being okay with it, crying like a baby over it, and just being really pissed off. Back in December, we knew the odds were against us but we were optimistic and a little giddy because we were in the middle of a new christmas tradition --The "O-vent Calendar". Yep, you read that correctly. It was great and we were all tough like "no problem, this is the year we bring Ocean Isle home, right? Damn, right!" Fist bump.
I think our "we got this" bravado was exaggerated by hyper-orgasmic endorphins. December rocked. The new year held such potential. We were going to stay so connected (not just sex) the absence of a four day escape, uninterrupted conversations, uninterrupted silence, and unchecked nakedness would be a tiny blip on the radar. Did you see the coverage of the meteorite that exploded over Russia? Yeah, that's more like it.
And it's not just the sex. It's the tradition of it. The drive, the smell of the ocean, the sound of waves breaking, eating in the bed and watching cable reality shows, drinking coffee on the beach, talking about life, talking about us, talking, talking, talking, and kissing. Not peck on the lips on the way out to work or to the grocery store but like "holy hell, I remember you" kissing.
More sighing. It'll be okay. I know that. It's not the end of the world. I know that. There are plenty of people out there who don't get romantic vacations every year. I know that. But I also know that I love my husband more than any person on this planet. I know that we have to fight to stay on the same page in the midst of life and kids with special needs and issues. I also know that the day I'm okay with NOT getting to have time away with Tim is the day something has gone terribly wrong. Dealing with life as it is right now is absolutely necessary and we will deal with it. Fist bump. But admitting that we are missing it is real.