Apparently, my neighbor has gotten tired of her husband being home all the time and sent him off to play golf earlier this week. I haven’t seen him outside much during the day the last few days, so perhaps she’s had him doing other things as well.

We haven’t gotten to that point here, and I really doubt I ever would.

I kind of like this independently-wealthy lifestyle. We putter around…well, Bill putters around; I’m still slaving from sun-up to sun-down doing laundry, meals, prepping for school, working on setting up the school room, etc…so there’s puttering going on with perhaps one main job on the to-do list. On Wednesday, Bill mowed our small backyard. Having accomplished his one hour chore for the day, he was free to indulge in one of the very few types of foreign beer sold at the nearby Class VI confident that his paycheck would be directly deposited into his account twice each month as normal.

And even though I’m slaving, slaving I tell you, all day long, he’s there to fetch juice refills and supervise proper dietary rules regarding lunch time meals and give Petey high-fives for a successful trip to the potty…all so I can sit at the computer and blog work on school plans in peace and quiet.

Being an imperfect wife, there are still things about him that irritate me. But I think I have a daily time limit on how much this happens…maybe an hour a day after which my “annoyance meter” is maxed out and he just doesn’t bother me any more. So, six months ago that hour of irritation was concentrated in only two or three hours of contact, it is now diluted by sixteen or more hours of time, most of which are quite pleasant.

I especially appreciate his presence this week as we began swimming lessons for the kids. Three are in the first time slot and one is in the second time slot which would normally mean a half hour or so of waiting time for everybody and over an hour for Pete. As long as I bring snacks and some books, that really isn’t a big deal, but it’s been nice not having to deal with impatient children. I drive over with the three, Bill walks over a bit later with Pete and Fritz, I leave with four, and Bill walks Fritz home when he’s done. Very nice.

I can go to the grocery store at any old time. I can spend an hour in the basement doing laundry or sorting toys and school supplies while his attentive ear is on the main level of the house and he can check on the kids playing outside. I can take a shower with no interruptions. And if it weren’t oppressively hot, I could take a walk in the middle of the day when I opt to sleep in.

Yes, I could get used to this. In fact, I think I have. Thank goodness he starts next week off slowly – only three days of activities and two of them are half days. This will give me a chance to ease back into the real world: the one where money doesn’t just appear as if by magic in the bank account. The one where I haul five kids and a big belly shopping for groceries, or to the orthodontist, to to the pool for lessons.

I’m okay with this. I’d really like to win the lottery, but barring that improbability, I’ll happily embrace my former life as the Center of the Universe for five little children, even if that title comes with a host of other titles like Sole Juice Pourer, The Only One Capable of Cutting Pancakes, and Ultimate Solace for Injuries.