Lately he has been coming home from work late. There have been extenuating circumstances. Mostly having to do with his first two traits mentioned previously. I admire him. I respect him. I love him. Or did I already write that? However, at the moment, as with many moments around evening-ish, an hour or so past when he is due home, I am mad at him. Because I am the wife of a cop, it is an emotional thing to be mad at my husband when he is late coming home from work. I know he's fine. Okay, I know he is probably fine. But he's a cop. What if instead of his patrol car pulling into the driveway, a different patrol car pulls in and two grim looking officers walk up to my door? A girl with an overactive imagination on the best of days can get quite carried away between the time a cop-hubby is supposed to be home and the time he finally arrives. When he does come home I'm torn between wrapping my arms around his waist in complete happy relief that he's safe and wrapping my hands around his neck to throttle him!
Anyone been there? My mother was the wife of a coal-miner and she totally relates!
On an unrelated note...
My eight-year-old son just ran to the window hollering, "Daddy!" It wasn't daddy. It was the Schwan's Man. My husband and I have a running joke about "the ice-cream man" being the "other man." I thought it was hilarious that my son did that! So what did I do? I shared the running joke and the funny son-hollering-"daddy" story with the poor ice-cream man. And now I'm blogging about it. Have I no shame?