Martin and I have recently gone through the seven-year itch phase. Oh, don't worry, nothing actually happened. We hardly got itchy at all. Barely a tickle.

We just kind of noticed that we had been together more than seven years, in fact, in a few months we'll be at the nine-year mark, which means we made it. Right?

I actually think there is something to this seven-year itch thing. It's not that relationships all fail just then, but it's certain that the honeymoon phase is over. You have kids, responsibilities... Well actually, we had that even before our honeymoon, so I'm not sure how that fits.

I think what really happens around the seven or eight-year mark is you get comfortable. Doing anything extra is, well, extra. It takes work. And the person is there anyway, it's not like you need to make an effort. Subconsciously, you start to feel that if they stuck around this long, they are probably not going anywhere. Besides, they have no time to go anywhere. Every minute of every day is already taken up with keeping the apartment clean, feeding the hungry masses of kids around here, controlling the crazy masses of kids around here and entertaining the bored masses of kids around here. There is realistically no time to get itchy.

Tomorrow, Martin leaves for a mini-vacation to Zurich to see a friend. This morning, I quite lovingly said: "Hey, I'm going to miss you." ("Hey" is our term of endearment for each other. You know, like others say dear or honey or babe? We say hey. It's all really quite romantic over here.)

He replied: "It's only three days."

Now, who here agrees that is the WRONG answer??

Theoretically, I should grump about this for several days. Or at least several hours. Or a few minutes, minimum. Oh, who has the energy to grump, really? He's right, it's only three days, and in fact, the truth is, I'm TOTALLY looking forward to it. I'll have the apartment all to myself! At least, during the six hours when Elliot and Daniel are gone to school and assuming Jesse is not home. I can do WHATEVER I want!!

I can go back to bed in the morning. I could eat ice cream for lunch. I could look at the laundry pile and not do it. I could write without interruptions. I could put whatever music on I want! I could even watch TV, in the MIDDLE of the day, by myself! And it could be show with absolutely no violence or action of ANY kind! Oh my goodness, I might just have to change the locks and not let anybody back in.

OK, so I guess I forgive him for saying it's only three days (oh no! It's only three days!?!??!).

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Plus, he just got back from getting groceries and got me flowers. I know you are all saying "awwww" now and picturing my husband at the doorstep holding a bouquet of roses. In actual fact, he came in carrying four heavily overloaded shopping bags and handed one of them to me, and in one, right there between the chicken wings and the jar of tomato sauce, was a bouquet of yellow and pink flowers.

So I guess we'll be OK.