I crashed the car

Ok, I didn't *exactly* crash the car but I was so distracted by other things going on in the parking garage (missing fire extinguisher boxes, for example) that as I backed out of the parking space I did a nice loud, messy, dirty scrape of the car fender on the wall.  oh dear.

Props out to my husband dearest who did not, in fact, rip me up one side and down the other when I told him about defacing his car.  It only took me two days to get up the courage to actually tell him and then when he reacted so well it was an even bigger relief.  A few days later he was recounting the story to his coworkers, and he got two differing reactions.  #1: horrified.  This from the officer who bought his wife some fancy schmancy car -- he's a car freak -- and a special bra to go over the front bumper.  #2: horrified.  This from a female officer who wanted to know how mean he was to me about it, especially after how angry he was over the last 'big thing' I did.  I then asked if he told them about how I cried.  "What?!!?  You weren't crying!!" he says.  "That's what you think.  I left the room because I knew you'd get irritated."  Well he was irritated when he found *that* out ~ and he has a point: I cry when he's mean and angry, and I cry when he's nice and calm.  "I can't win for losing!" he tells me.  I like the nice and calm crying waaay better, though.  :)   Never a dull moment and glad to know I continue to provide great coworker story fodder for DH. 

The days of the week DH works have shifted, although he's still working swings.  I realized that now there are at least two days of the week that most likely the kids will not see dad.  That's a bummer.  I don't think we really thought that one out.  I hadn't really seen DH since Monday when this morning (Wed) around 4:30 AM the baby woke up and I realized that I had a man sleeping in the bed with me.  Oh!!  That's my husband!!  So nice to see you, dear.  I rolled over and patted him on the way to get Dallas...  And that was the last I "heard" from him until this afternoon when he got up to go to work.  This swing shift stuff sucks.  That moment of patting his back (or was it his belly?  his arm?  I was so asleep I have no idea) was almost an act of desperation.  It was so very, very necessary for me to touch him and know that he was home and safe and with me.  Albeit a very, very sleepy me. 

That's the kind of thing I can't explain to some of my friends.  They just don't get it.  Intellectually they can understand what it's like, but there is no explaining the crazy thoughts and weird desperate oddities that seep out of my heart and my mind and wash over the whole of my life and our family.  To say he should "find another job" in light of the sacrifices we each make as individuals and as a family diminishes the work he does.  But there are those who think it, and say it, and may they change their mind the first time they actually, desperately need his assistance on duty.