But it's so true. That man works hard. Last week, he worked 6 days straight. He had to stay overnight for three of them. And the other days, he worked 12-15 hours.
As you can imagine, it feels like a vacation (for both of us) when he gets a weekend at home. Thanks to Veteran's Day, we actually got two days together instead of one. It might as well have been Christmas.
Andrew and the people he works with do a lot for us. The collective us, of course. They're away from their families for most of the time, working in a high-stress situation and they go, go, go with very little rest.
When you hear someone thank a serviceman and/or their family for their sacrifices, know that the sacrifices are real. These guys miss everything. They miss the big things like birthdays and anniversaries and holidays and milestones in their kids' lives. But they miss the little things, too, like walks with their family on a Saturday morning and home-cooked meals and the Carolina game and getting to see the flowers bloom in the spring.
It's a lot, you know?
Anyway, what I'm trying to say is that my husband works hard and gives up a lot to make sure that we (his family) have our basic needs taken care of and that we (the collective we) are safe and free. And then he jumps right back in to help with Jack and dishes and projects around the house because he wants to. "You haven't had a break all week," I say. "You haven't had one, either," he says back.
Sorry, ladies. He's all mine. And I thank God every day for that.