Love in the time of babysitting

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On some days, I believe in you. Days when I am tired of babysitting and want to run away from everyone.  You reason it out as baby blues and assure everything will be fine once I get back to work. On such days, I silently thank you for helping me retain my sanity.

On some days, I miss you. Days when I know you're busy with your month-end closing. Not on Fridays, but on Mondays. Days when I know you're tied up with meetings, and I wish to go on a date. But then I know you wouldn’t fly on Mondays to see me.  Your silence over the phone would say ‘try and understand baby’. On such days, I buy lives at Candy Crush.

On some rainy afternoons, I wish we wouldn't argue as much as we do. Not on weekdays, but on Sundays. When we count hours before you catch your flight back, and we pretend its easy to live apart. On such afternoons, I realize you love me more than you show.

On some evenings, I am mad at you. When my colleagues share glimpses of pizza party and I call you to realize you're on a smoke break. On such evenings, Al Pacino co-exists with lonely coffee mugs, and life seems to be in a suspended animation.

On some nights, I want to curl up beside you and sleep peacefully. Nights when no movies or song can lull me to sleep, no books seem to register in my mind. You would be busy watching YouTube. Or I can't call because it would wake up our daughter. On such nights, I tell myself "This too shall pass."

And then suddenly, you call up to ask if I love you?

Do you still need to ask?

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