Just You and Me, Kid

My husband used to travel for business . . . a lot. He would often be gone for 2-3 weeks at a time negotiating deals in Hong Kong or sizing up a possible acquisition in Jaipur while I busied myself signing the kids up for Park District swim classes or attending middle school band concerts. Don't try this at home but we even lived apart for longer than I care to admit when he finished up an assignment in Germany and, later, took a job in Virginia that he feared might not work out long enough to uproot the kids. Even when we were clever enough to be living in the same zip code, my hubby tended to be one of those Type A personalities who worked fourteen hour days and weekends. Long story short - we spent a lot of time apart.

Lately, not so much. For the last year, my better half has been working out of a home office, establishing a media business as well as trying to get some consulting projects off the ground. We've gone from being separated by an ocean to being separated by nothing more than a staircase. It's great to have him around more but, now that we're the only two people living in the house, it's also an adjustment.

As newly-christened empty-nesters, we're bound to hit a few speed bumps as we try to re-invent our relationship while we each try to re-invent ourselves. Whether it's taking a walk around the block or making a spontaneous trip to McDonald's for one of those $ .49 cones, we're in the early stages of converting our routine into something that resembles the one we signed on for when we said, "I do". Hopefully, we can avoid the pitfalls of other long-time married folks who found out they had nothing to say to each other once the kids hit the road. Since I still find my hubby one of the smartest, funniest, most challenging people I know, I doubt I have to worry about that one.

But trying to interrupt me after the new People magazine is delivered? That could be a deal breaker.

It's Not You, It's Me

I don't know if it's my age, my lack of hormones or the heat but I'm not exactly a people person these days. While I'm not packing my bags for a move to Walden Pond, the idea of spending a week or two in a cabin by myself sounds pretty darn appealing right now. Twenty years ago, I could never have imagined saying such a thing. The thought of spending that much time without the possibility of conversation would have filled me with fear. I needed people to feel whole; I didn't know what to do when I was alone.

My husband, on the other hand, always had a need for alone time. When we first got married it bothered me. Why did he want to get away from me? Why did he want; no, need to have so much space? Now I know. As is often the case with husbands and wives, our timing was just off. Now that I appreciate the benefits of enjoying my own company, he is feeling lonely and left out. Now that I understand what he was talking about a couple of decades ago, he is lobbying for more togetherness. I don't want to hurt his feelings but I'm trying to figure out who I am now that I'm not a full-time mom. I need some (maybe more than some) time alone to find the answers.

But, if there's any justice in the crazy world of relationships, we should be on the same page by the time we hit seventy.

Second Chances

Exactly how many chances are we human beings entitled to? That's a question I've been wrestling with ever since my daughter announced that she's reconciling with her ex. Theirs has been a tempestuous relationship in the best of times and decidedly unhealthy in the worst. After more than a year of drama, her father and I were more than relieved when, after numerous break-ups, they finally went their separate ways. Now, after a couple of months, they've decided to forgive, forget and try again. And they want us to be, if not happy, okay with that.

I'm not stupid. I know people, especially young people, make mistakes. God knows my errors in judgment and dealing with relationships could fill a rather large, somewhat entertaining book. I try not to hold a grudge; I know how important it is to forgive. But when you mess with one of my kids, all bets are off. I want to preserve the close bond with my daughter; I don't want to drive a wedge between us. Trouble is, I keep remembering that Maya Angelou quote, 'When people show you who they are, believe them'. And, while I know people can change, I also know they usually don't. So, if I decide to welcome this guy back into the fold and he ends up resorting to his previous, verbally abusive behavior (or worse, escalates into something physical), how am I ever going to deal with that?

My daughter reassures me that it won't happen. He's a changed man. He's grown up. He's gotten his act together and is treating her like a queen. She's already convinced. Her father and I are going to take a lot longer.