I haven't written in a little while about being in love.  I thought, jeez, nobody really wants to keep hearing about that, I'll give it a rest. But I don't want anyone to think it's not still happening.


I've gotten better at it.  I'm able to walk and talk and go to work and more or less function in the world now, while still being in love. It helps that John has essentially moved in with me while my boy is with his dad in Oklahoma. Having him with me during pretty much all my non-work hours helps keep the obsession factor under control.


I was nervous about cohabiting with John. I haven't lived with a man since I was married and, well, you know how that turned out...


I've long had a theory, as stated here, that domesticity ruins a man... that they begin to take you for granted the moment you move in together, and you end up being the House Mother, handling all the cooking, cleaning and overall household management...and resenting it.  But maybe, just maybe, that's not always true.


John has these regular routines of tidying up, putting things away... which is way more than I can say for myself. I admit sometimes his buzzing about when I get home from work can make me a bit nervy. I'm generally a drop-on-the-sofa-with-a-glass-of-wine type person immediately upon arriving home.  Chores have to wait until I've got that first cocktail into me. However, John has had a surprisingly positive influence. I've been falling into the pattern:  taking a few minutes each day to clean things up a bit; putting things in the dishwasher instead of dropping them in the sink, that sort of thing.  I'm sure it will all go to hell the moment G gets home and John goes back to his apartment.  But it's working fine for now.


The dogs seem to have settled in with him, as well. Fortunately he doesn't have any problem sharing his sofa space or the bed with a dog or two:  Kobi, who habitually burrows under the covers to lie near our feet, and Roxy who sometimes climbs up and hogs most or all of the foot of the bed and eventually has to be shoved off.  Flower, fortunately, has chosen the chair as her bedtime spot.


Flower has also taken it upon herself to personally tend to John's shoes every day when he gets home from workt. When he walks in the door, he always takes off his shoes -- covered it kitchen grease from the restaurant -- and leaves them on a throw-rug so they don't get black grease all over the carpet.  Flower meets him at the door, and is sometimes licking his shoes before he can even get them off.  She then lies down and spends the next 10 to 15 minutes thoroughly and lovingly licking every bit of grease off of his shoes. This gave us a great deal of amusement until we left her unattended this week and she chewed a hole right through the sole of one of them.  Whoops.


Meanwhile, despite the cozy domesticity of shacking up with John, I'm beginning to go into deep withdrawal for my son. I knew this long separation would be hard, but the first couple of weeks were mitigated somewhat by having John around full-time. Then we drove to Oklahoma and I got to spend a few hours with G before we drove him to camp, and it was good to see him and talk to him, but in some ways it just made me miss him more.


I was completely unsure about having children when I got pregnant with Grayson. It was a sort of deliberate accident, and I remember being utterly terrified when I found out I was actually going to have a baby.  Babies were not my thing, and I didn't know how to talk to children. I spent the early months of my pregnancy being in a state of complete terror.


Then he was born and my heart turned completely inside out. I had no concept of the kind of love I was capable of feeling.  I was completely and totally bought and paid for. My sense of self, of love, of what is important in life, was irreversibly changed.  It frankly unnerved the ex. Later, when things started to go bad for us, he admitted that he essentially began his disconnection from me with the birth of our son.  I hear that's fairly common.


Anyway, my point being... my relationship with my boy continues to amaze and delight me. I love watching him grow up, I enjoy his humor and his company. I am more completely myself with him than I had ever been with anyone until recently when I met John.  And I realize that I feel a little hole in my heart when Grayson is not around. Even when I know he is happy and healthy at camp or with his dad or whatever, I am diminished by his absence. I'm sad. And when he's with me I feel complete, like all of me is there.


Now I begin to wonder if, when Grayson returns, I'll begin to feel John's absence that way. Well, we'll find out soon.  He's home again in three days. I can't wait!  I'm missing him so much.  I try to IM or Skype with him during the day, so we can communicate, and that helps. But there's no substitute for just having him home.  Where he belongs.


T minus three days and counting...