Life with a husband and father who travels can be tough.

   

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And off he goes! Whisked away in a limo, heading for Sydney airport, Dubai and finally Kurdistan.

It should be ME in that business class seat on Emirates, heading for a hotel and some interesting work overseas.

But sadly I am home with the kids, probably doing the dishes as you read this.

We’ve lived in Sydney for almost 15 years. But my husband hasn’t spent nearly that long here.

He’s always been a frequent business traveller, always off to see a man about an oil rig.

That’s why I call him my International Man of Mystery.

Sometimes, I’m amazed that we have seen each other enough to conceive all these children.  Actually, I could tell a few stories about that.  But I’ll spare you the gory details… for now!

Anyway, to say that I have had low moments when home alone in Sydney would be a gross, a gargantuan understatement. I’ve had some appalling times.

But we’ve all had to learn to make it work for us as a family.

Tonight he left for a five week trip to Kurdistan in the north of Iraq.

And he knows how things are for me, he understands and appreciates. He cuts me some slack, like the four nights away last week.

On Saturday night, out with friends, he said:

‘I don’t know how Seana does it, I really don’t.’

That’s gold to me. I need to feel appreciated, and even more, understood.  I hope he feels that his hard yakka is appreciated too.  It is.

Does your own man of mystery disappear from home?

Does he appreciate all you do to keep the home fires burning?