Every 5 weeks when Luke gets home, he is tired. Understandably. He's just come off working for 35 nights straight, 13 hours each night. Everyday for him there is like Groundhog Day. He sleeps, wakes up, eats, works. Repeat. For 35 nights. So when he's home, he just wants sleep. For at least the first week.
Which was perfectly fine before we had a baby.
Now, the week before Luke comes home, I am completely exhausted by this point and cannot wait to have some help. And while I will be the first to admit that with Mason, we have it easy. He is a chilled out baby and sleeps through most nights, no dramas. But when we're on our way towards the end of a swing, I am beyond tired. It's not that its every diaper, every feed, every burp, every settle...
But I miss my partner.
The one who will look at me and giggle when I've worn my pyjamas inside out because of how tired I am.. The one who I can yell "You have no idea what it's like to have your nipple chewed on!".. (Then climb into his arms for a cuddle). The one who always reminds me that, at the worst of times, I am his favourite and, I am all these amazing things to him.
That first few days Luke is home, our house is like a bomb site. It looks like a dozen living things are taking shelter in it and no one cleans and one of those living things may or may not always forget this is a "shoes off" household*.
He's home for 5 weeks and we are out and about all day everyday. He wants to fit in as much "fun" as he can before its back to work! Trips into the big smoke, going to see friends, working on our backyard, hanging out on the beach.. Mason's sleep times have always been so accommodating and for that (and so much more), I love this child of mine! But we are thrown out of whack, nevertheless.
And then it happens again for 5 weeks.. I go back to my pottering around the house. Mason and I, we fall into an unintentional routine of sorts. In between Luke being away, we cope. We text each other all the time. Mason and I send selfies every morning. Some days we have nothing to talk about so we send back "Love ya"s and "Miss ya"s again and again... It's non-intellectual stuff but your person needs it. So you do it.
Then 35 days later, we do the shuffling around with Luke home. All. Over. Again.
Basically, it's a whole lot of craziness. Craziness, compromise and letting shit go. I pretend I don't see his unpacked luggage that's been sitting there for two whole weeks and he pretends he loves that I spontaneously decided that his bedside table is now also makeshift change table. Oh, and my half done pantry reshuffle doesn't annoy him whatsoever..
Essentially, we don't do anything special to accommodate our situation. We roll along with this life that's chosen us as much as we've chosen it. We forget the things about it that upset us.. and sometimes on a Monday morning, when we're all snuggled up in bed, we realise..
We're the lucky ones.
*I wish. It is never a shoes off household. No one ever remembers.