Being a bachelorette stinks!

The original title of this post was going to be "28 days......a glimpse into the life of a Walmart widow"
But I got to thinking it might be a little too dramatic, and since my writing skills are on the 0-3 range, I opted for the current title. That way it saves disappointment.

Dan has received a promotion at work, and is now an Assistant Manager at one of the larger Walmart stores in the area. I'm so very proud of him. He definitely deserved it. However, I'm not so sure about this whole training business because it is the reason that I've been having to live alone.

My past living history is a simple one. I lived in my parents home until I was 21 and then I got married.  From that point, I have lived with my husband and have never been alone. Except for a time or two when he would have to work overnight or the time that he went to Nashville for 4 days to play music. During those 4 days I think I cried almost constantly until mom would look at me and tell me to "straighten up and calm down". (I'm still confused as to how I go both up and down at the same time, but mom knew best.) I remember being miserable the whole time and only going home to sleep. I was offered my old room at my parents house, but declined saying that I needed to learn to be alone. I've always been glad that I did that, and I think mom and dad were too.......even though they never said anything.
So now, it's not just 4 days.......it's 5 days and 5 nights per week for 4 weeks. Talk about culture shock!

I have to say that the first week wasn't that bad. Essentially the days went by pretty fast and I would spend the evening time with my dad. I was always home by 8:30 to 9 and could relax in my own home (in Dan's recliner) and watch whatever I wanted on TV while snacking on things that maybe I can't eat when Dan's home........like bananas. (I didn't eat bananas in his chair. I'm not cruel!) I didn't really worry if I kept the dishes done, or if I did laundry, because it was just me. I knew I'd get around to it sometime before he came home. (Not saying that my house is always spotless when Dan's home, but I like to have it cleaned as much as possible) I only use half the bed, so it's really easy to make up the next morning. Plus if I was asked to stay late at the store, or if something came up where I couldn't be home at a reasonable hour, I didn't worry because supper would be late. I'd just catch a bite on the run, or have a bowl of cereal when I got home. All of these things were pretty cool the first week, and I really didn't mind those first 5 days. JUST....the first 5 days.

When Friday of that week rolled around, I got up extra early, cleaned everything up, made a lemon pie and put some soup fixings in the crock pot. I have to say everything looked and smelled great. Like a home. I left the store early just to come home and do final preparations and enjoy my singleness in a clean house. The only problem was, I couldn't enjoy being alone. I was looking too forward to that yellow Nissan turning in the driveway. Once it did, everything was complete. I felt like me again. We had a good couple of days together.....then Sunday came.

Now, my brain didn't really want to start processing week 2, because, as I've said, 4 days is all we've ever been apart up to that time. After we'd made it that first week, my brain kept saying that was all there was to it, and he was home to stay.  So after church that night when I came home to an empty house again, I think my brain was thinking Dan was hiding in the closet or something. I kept going through some of the same situations I have about mom right now. Looking around for them........starting to say something and realizing they're not there.......saying "I'll need to ask them about it tonight".......etc.
I'm very fortunate, because I can still talk to Dan. All I have to do is text him and he'll answer me. I can't do that with mom. So, I think that thought helped me through that 2nd week. If I would ever get down and start feeling sorry for myself, I would try and remind myself of that very fact.

In spite of all the trouble I had those first couple days, week 2 still wasn't really bad. By this time, I started feeling really lonely when I went to sleep. So, I piled all the pillows on Dan's side of the bed, just so there would be a person sized lump there. And I turned on my TV every night to sleep by, so there would be noise in the room. Both of these things helped me SO much. I was actually able to sleep at night instead of "cat napping" all night, and I desperately needed sleep. I had a terrible cold and felt just plain awful. For the first time in my life, I wasn't living with someone to take care of me. Growing up was pretty much the only option. I mean, dad was there, but he's never had the caring touch that mom or even Dan has had when I was sick.
I lived in a fog for a couple days and really took advantage of not cooking or cleaning. I just plain didn't feel like it, so I didn't do it. I think it was Thursday of that week before I started getting over my cold enough to feel human again, which was great. I talked to myself like crazy trying to not get too excited about Dan coming home that weekend. I didn't want my brain going through what it went through before, so I kept telling myself that we were only half way done with this whole training process. Even as I was saying it, I knew my brain wasn't buying it, so I got just as excited as ever. The only trouble with that was neither one of us had a very good week; Can we say grumpy?

2 weeks of motel life with a stranger is not something that Dan can accept very easy. I can't blame him, I wouldn't be able to handle that at all. I feel like I'm too personal of a person to just move in and live with someone I've never met before. I think he'd only managed to get about 10 hours sleep for that whole week he was gone, so he did NOT feel like talking about his experiences from that week. I think Friday night I fell asleep about 8:30, had an auction on Saturday that I had to leave at 5 AM for, didn't get home until after 6 that night, fell asleep again sometime before 9, and then it was Sunday again. Plus Dan's "sidekick" wasn't riding with him this week so Dan wanted to leave at noon. We really didn't see each other that weekend, and I think that's what made week 3 so hard.

Week 3 was the one where I nearly broke down. Everything seemed twice as hard as it normally did. I felt myself drifting into a fog and I really didn't want to see anyone or do anything. I think if I had been able, I would have stayed at home every day......in bed.....with a big bowl of pudding or something. I would have sunk into a super bad depression and probably spent most every day in tears. Monday and Tuesday drug by.....and Wednesday wasn't so great either. It was one of those weird moments when you do lots of stuff, thinking that you're killing all this time but in reality it only took you ten minutes. I hate that. Where is that super speed when you need it?
When I reached the down hill slope (Wednesday night), I could finally start perking up again. Then, I would start rationalizing; "I've only got two days and two nights left! Well, really, it's only one day because he'll be coming home Friday.....and really it's only one more night because it's already night now........so one day and one night....." This would go on for a while. I'd try to think of how I could arrange my schedule so I could be home when he got there, etc. I'm pretty sure that week 3 was the hardest for both of us.
I would try to remember what it was like when we were dating and would only see each other every one to two months.....and only for a few hours. At times that would help, but otherwise I was pretty much left to my self pity.
That weekend went much better, although I was working again on Saturday, but it wasn't as late and I didn't fall asleep so early.

Now comes the final push. Week 4. I actually thought this would be my toughest week. I pictured myself sitting at home, bawling my eyes out, pining for my husband who couldn't be there. (OK, so I can be dramatic. lol) Truth is, it wasn't like that at all. It was more like the first week. I was home a lot more because dad was spending more time with Russ, but it was still nice. I would pop in a movie, or watch an episode or two of a series I'm currently interested in on Netflix, eat snacks, sit in the recliner........things weren't all bad......but it wasn't all snacks and tv either. I was empty inside.

Finally, we reach the end of our journey. Today is Friday.....at the end of week 4. I feel as though I'm a better person for going through this experience with as little discomfort as possible, and I'm proud of both Dan and myself for handling it as well as we have. But truth be known, I wouldn't trade him for anything, and I'm so very thankful that my "bachelorette" days are over. They really do stink.

Men, Women, and Father's Day.

Since I've started this blog, I've tried to post something at least once a week. It's kind of a goal I've set for myself. It gets me thinking and pondering, and hopefully coming up with an amusing or funny story I'd like to share in the process. Eventually, I hope to get better at it, but I hope you all stick around while I'm trying to get there.

Today the thought that is floating around in my brain has to do with men and women and their differences in the way they do things, as well as Father's Day coming up Sunday. So maybe I can shove these two thoughts together. Let me see........Father's Day.......differences between men and women.......I've got it! 

As all the faithful readers know, mom has had some health problems for the past few years. This last episode leaving her pretty much down for the past two months, and probably 3 to 4 more coming up before she gets back to where she needs to be physically. In the mean time, dad has had to step in and take over the household chores. I fill in where I can, but they are both so independent, dad would rather work at his job all day, and work in the house all night than have me do stuff for them. So, I do what they'll let me do. 

Now, that being said, let me give you a little history on dad; 

I remember as I was growing up, dad would come home for lunch every day. He got a full hour, but it would take him roughly 10 minutes to get home, followed by 10 minutes back after lunch. It would still leave us time to eat, and then watch a partial episode of the Andy Griffith show together. I loved this schedule! Mom would have a big meal cooked, because dad loved to eat. Still does, really. But she was the stay at home mom, so the house would be clean and picked up, a big lunch fixed, and part of the time there would be pies or a cake or cookies or something good in the oven that morning for dessert the rest of the day. And it would be home made. Because, according to daddy, if it's not home made......it's not any good. If for some reason mom wasn't able to have a big lunch, or supper, and was running late, she would just put cold cuts and cheese on the table for "fix your own" sandwiches. Dad didn't like that. He felt as though if he had to have a sandwich, at the very least it should be assembled for him. True story. 

Dad is the hardest working man I've ever known, always has been, always will be. He would work 12+ hour days, standing on concrete floors in the meat shop as a butcher, come home and work for hours at his sawmill, take care of all the animals, including the 10 or so head of cattle he had for years, not to mention anything else that needed doing for himself or a friend. It was always dark when he left of a morning, and dark when he came home at night. But, it needed to be done, so he'd do it. He is still that way. The only difference is right now he's having to take care of mom's territory; The house. 

A couple weeks ago, I told them I wanted to clean their house for them. Believe it or not I was allowed to!  So, I took mom to therapy at 9AM, and when she was done we picked up some "brunch". We were back home by 10:30. After I got her settled in for a nap, I started to work. 

• First things first. I knew I wanted to fix supper, so I pulled some meat out of the freezer to thaw. 
• Next I picked up some odds and ends that were scattered here and there and put them away. 
• Then I started dusting, vacuuming and sweeping in every room except the kitchen. I always do it last.
• I cleaned both the bathrooms and emptied the trashes. 
• I remade dad's bed that he'd been sleeping on because it was wrinkly. 
• I walked to my house to get some yeast to start some home made bread. 
• Did a load of laundry.

I did all of this without waking mom up. I felt like I was pretty quiet, and things got done without her being disturbed. I like this! After I had finished all the picking up, dusting, vacuuming and sweeping in every other room, I started on the kitchen. 

• I cleaned off the cabinets (because dad has a bad habit of piling things on them)
• Wiped everything down
• Swept the floor
• Emptied the dishwasher and then put the dirty dishes in it
• Emptied the trash
• Finished my bread so it could raise. 

Feeling very accomplished, and mom had woke up by this time, so I came to town, paid some bills and bought a few things I needed for supper, then proceeded to come home and start fixing said supper, as well as 3 loaves of home baked bread. Now, I was done with everything with some time to spare. I stalled supper a bit so it would be hot when dad came home. I pulled the last loaf of bread out of the oven at 5:30. 

What does this have to do with my subject? Because this is a big difference I've noticed between men and women, and the next part of this discussion involves my dad. See? I knew I could do it. Let's give an example of how a man would handle something similar to this.

When dad's off, he never spends a full day in the house, but my wonderful dad was home this morning. While he does everything well, I can't help but notice that he does it in a very inefficient manner. He can't cook his breakfast, and mom's breakfast at the same time. They're having 2 different kinds of eggs, yes, but other than that...........

Then, he's cleaning the kitchen after breakfast. He's practically running through there. In all fairness, though, that is dad's manner. He's always been that way because he has a lot to do, but faster is not always better. 

I felt bad this morning because mom was trying to get some extra sleep after breakfast. There was no way ANYONE was going to sleep at that time. Dad was banging on plates, slamming the dishwasher door, stomping across the floor while taking scraps outside and then slamming the door, stomping back across the floor as he came back in. All the while trying to talk to me. Every move he made jarred mom awake, and she'd look at me with a sour frown as if to say "I wish he'd just be quiet!" 

To top it all off, cleaning the kitchen alone took him an hour. AN HOUR! I felt like a nervous wreck by the time he got done. He's like this with most inside chores. 

So here's my question; Do you think that men are just unaccustomed to doing household chores, therefore making it seem harder for them to handle? Or, God has given women special patience when it comes to running a smooth house? Or, is there another reason?

There are "Mr. Mom's" out there, and my dad is great at getting things done, so I am in no way complaining. I'm so very proud to have a dad like him. I just can't help but wonder if things like this are one of the reasons men and women are made so differently. Oh, and so I'm sure to come full circle on my subject, Happy Father's Day to all the great dads out there......especially mine. 

I would love to hear your opinions.

DISCUSS!