It's not reading the textbooks titled Information Technology Management, writing the papers, poring through lifeless case study after lifeless case study, or pointless hours of online commenting that kills me. For it's not me who's toiling this way. It's him.
But I must admit, while he's been doing all of that plus full-time work over the last three years, I've slowly been dug three feet under. Halfway to the grave. The burden has been great back at the homestead with a young family to raise while attending to the special dietary needs of my eldest and my youngest sons.
I couldn't have been more ecstatic this summer when he told me that he planned to finish up school in two more semesters. Albeit by taking three grad level courses per semester.
And so the countdown begins. What in the past has seemed like an endless infinity to that glorious day when I would see my husband more than eight hours a week -- has now turned into small weekly stepping stones approaching mid-May. I'm not sure, but I might be the only woman standing in that auditorium soaking wet in my little commencement dress. Not from perspiration from the terrible early summer heat but instead from the tears of joy streaming down my face landing all over my tired ol' self.
And now.... the point of this blog. The thing that makes my life easier. The thing that makes my kids tolerable to be around. The thing that brings a smile to my husband's face. The thing that helps me get through the day without falling over faint. The thing that makes my bank account happy. And in turn, affords me the opportunity to buy tickets to see my favorite band on a date with my love!
Yes, yes, yes. That dreaded ol' thang that sets women's nerves on end. That dreaded 'ol thang that when neglected leads to many nights in a row of carry-out. That dreaded 'ol thang that sends tired husbands to the store at all odd hours of the day and night.
Meal Planning. Here we go...