looking for puddles after the rain

We’ve had our most thunderous fight since Ben on the topic of family planning (see "Four!"), and the lightening static lingers. Much as we love our progeny, I can’t say that things have been much fun between his parents. We’re well fed by our community; we get more sleep than many and are well supplied with excellent television on DVD. I’m off for another week of a whopping eight parental weeks. Yet a chasm stands between us, a big, lonely, echoey distance. Despite the dramatic image, we know that part of it’s normal for new parents. It’s all very mind-numbing, repetitive, anxiety producing and existential. I miss her. I miss being the one with the best claims on her most precious affections. I’m not actually jealous of Ben, since he’s got me too, hook, line and sinker. I just wish we could be more of a cuddle puddle, all three of us together, plus the cats of course. Or sometimes, just sometimes, that we'd puddle alone.

E