T minus 49...

As I type, it's just under 48.5 hours until Rob comes home, and I must say, it's actually gone by faster than I thought it would.

It's incredibly silly for me to note the length of his absence given the frequency with which I travel. It's actually beyond silly. It probably borders on obnoxious, but I figure he was a bit concerned with how things would go, too, the first time I left town and he had to manage the situation all alone.

I know people do this every day, but it's clear that I am just not very organized. Sam's fine. He's happy. His routine barely seems disrupted. I know it's all going swimmingly on the surface, but it's become apparent that I can just barely take care of myself on a regular basis.

I've always been conscious of not taking my superhuman husband for granted, but perhaps I will have to try even harder from here on out. Rob makes our house function. I am mere window dressing, and not necessarily good at that either.

Seriously, I'm feeling like I can't keep up with my almost-three-year old. How is it that someone who regularly requires 12 - 14 hours of sleep to be a civil human being can outlast me like he does? By bathtime, I'm pooped myself!

The secret of all of this is that I'm guessing the weekend will actually be more exhausting than trying to juggle Sam's schedule, my work, an entire department in from out of town for three days worth of meetings and a bunch of laundry to boot. I'm feeling a great deal of pressure to be fun. I bought him a bag of contraband Cheetos tonight, so I think we're well on our way.