I don't like when it's five thirty and Devin isn't home, because he won't be home until late late Thursday night.
And when he's gone
I don't like eating dinner because the chair across from me sits empty, and all the food tastes sort of blah, because Devin is the one that makes food interesting.
I don't like taking a shower because all I see is the empty spot where his soap and shampoo are supposed to go.
I don't like to put Hanna to bed, because Devin is the one that always burps her. He does a much better job than me.
I don't like to put Hallie to bed, because Devin always reads the scriptures and she doesn't really like it when I do.
I don't like it when it gets dark outside and the memories of too many scary movies or crime tv shows linger in my mind.
I don't like it when it's time for me to go to bed and I don't know how to fall asleep without laying with my nose nestled in his neck, breathing his smell.
I don't like when Hanna wakes up three times throughout the night because she still has a fever. (Hand, foot, mouth anyone? Apparently it's not the second verse to head shoulders knees and toes.)
I don't like when Hallie wakes up in the morning because she'll say, "Where's Daddy?" - she always eats breakfast with him, just the two of them. It's their time.
and it's at about this time in my thought process that I mentally slap myself silly. "Grow up, self" I say. "Get over yourself, self." I say. "Why do you persist in your selfishness, self? I say. "You've tasted this humble pie before, self."
So, for dinner I am going to have pepperoni and bacon. Because I like eating that stuff, and it might help me like dinner, and that would be a start.
I am going to let the girls take an extra long bath, because that's what they like to do, and that will be a start.
And in the end, we'll be fine and he'll come home and we will hug him and kiss him and enjoy having him here again.
But honestly, my bacon dinner notwithstanding, I still don't like it.