There's always a silver lining.

Truong has been working very hard the past couple of months. He's out the door by 6:30am and comes home around 7:00pm if I'm lucky, 8:00pm if I'm not.

What it boils down to is : I'm essentially a single parent to three kids. Taede goes down by 6:30pm and the big kids by 7:30pm. So unless Truong comes home "early" enough to help with dinner, bath and/or bedtimes, then it really doesn't matter how late he comes home. That sounds harsh, but it's the cold truth. There are days during the week when Truong doesn't see the big kids at all and only sees Taede during the midnight feeding.

Malia has been particularly hard hit with missing Dad. She is, after all his little Princess. She's just not getting the complete adoration she needs from Mom and her ego is suffering. A few weeks ago she started waking up earlier and earlier, coming into our bedroom looking for Dad. Some mornings she catches him and they get a few minutes of snuggle time before he heads off to work (she doesn't fall back asleep). Very cute, I know. Unfortunately, she's figured it out and has started coming in earlier and earlier. As in before 6:00am. One morning she sauntered in at 5:30am.

!!!!

Not so cute now, is it?

Luckily work has eased up a bit and Dad has been home the past week or so just in time to scarf down his dinner before reading the kids their bedtime story. And accordingly, Malia has started staying in bed a little later and later. (Thank goodness.)

Just this Thursday Truong came home completely stressed out. He had a bad day at work, lost a client, the economy sucks, etc. Just on and on. I listen, nod my head, try to be understanding... when in reality I'm very worried. The poor guy has the weight of a mountain on his shoulders. I hate to add more to it. And yet, a clean rip of the band-aid is better than a slow torturous pull, right?

So I tell him: "Honey, I know this is bad timing, but you probably don't want to hear about the pregnancy test I took this morning, huh?"

Dead. Silence. He froze in the posture he was in at the moment: his hands in his hair, with a deer in the headlights look.

"I'm pregnant."

The silence continues. But I see something in his eyes, the wheels are churning at light speed: an image of his life (our life?) with four kids.
Four kids!
FOUR KIDS!!

Finally he manages to choke out: "You're kidding me, right?!"

I'm silent. I don't say anything. I let the words settle between us like a rock, giving him time to absorb it, to fully taste it.

Then I tell him: "No I'm not pregnant. But doesn't that make you feel better about our situation now?"

And judging by the look on his face, he was relieved. Still a little shocky, but definitely relieved.