Working Man

Four nights a week he leaves a 7:30pm just after putting the boys to bed. He's got his laptop, cell phone, keys, work badge, and maybe a few Redbox DVDs to return. He knows that he'll likely get a phone call from me around midnight, in tears, telling him that Kevin won't stop playing in his bed, Brother had another accident in his bed, Katie won't stop screaming, one of the other girls has gotten out of bed yet again, or someone has a fever or just started throwing up and I'm in agony trying to deal with it all while hopping on one foot. And there's absolutely nothing he can do about it accept offer suggestions, tell me where something I need is, and let me vent my frustration. But without him to do those things I don't know how I'd make it through the night. I love this man.