The last few weeks have been pretty lonely. Lu's been working on an intense conference paper, and I've been sitting at home alone... bored.

Well, except for the night I danced until midnight at a postponed holiday party, or when I made vegan cuisine and played Wii with Ms. K, or when I hung out with Ms. L and her parents, or when I went to dinner with friends, or the game night a few weeks ago.

Then there are the days that I spend cooking, cleaning, and running errands, as well as the evenings working on my dissertation or projects for one of my two side jobs.

Okay, so I haven't exactly been twiddling my thumbs. However, I've really missed Lu.

We spent nearly two weeks with my family over the holidays, and we were together 24/7. We woke up, ate breakfast, went to the gym, ate lunch, studied, ate dinner, did whatever activity we had for the evening, and fell asleep in each other's arms.

We flew back from break on a Tuesday, and on Wednesday Lu was in the lab beginning to collect data for his paper.

I'd normally welcome this break after such an uninterrupted period of time together. In fact, the first night that I went to sleep alone, I spread out in the middle of the bed. The first afternoon one of my friends wanted to go shopping, I jumped at the opportunity for some guilt-free girl time. Even the first time that Lu climbed in bed at 1:00 am then jumped back out 15 minutes later because he had a "new idea for his experiment," I smiled at his passion.

By the second week, I just missed my man. Sure, we'd have breakfast together and talk about our plans for the day. However, that was pretty much it. He was in the lab from 9:30 am - 6:00 pm. When he came home for dinner, the fragmented conversation let me know that his mind was still at school. Then after dinner, he'd go back to the lab to research, run tests, crunch data, etc. until the early morning hours.

 But it was fine because this was a part of the PhD process, and there was an end in sight. Our plan was that he'd spend all night on Friday finishing the paper, and then the weekend would be ours. We'd cook breakfast together, do some furniture shopping, take a trip to the outlets, make love for hours, and fall asleep watching meaningless TV shows.

.... Until the paper's due date got pushed back two days.

Instead of spending Saturday night intertwined with Lu, I was alone until 5:00 am. In my head, this was okay. He was stressed and tired with a huge deadline looming over his head. In the near future, the roles would probably be reversed with me pulling all-nighters and him cuddling with our dog.

Besides, most women would be happy that their man was spending a Saturday night doing work -- not getting drunk, not partying it up, and not with someone else.

Nonetheless, there's a place where logic and emotions just don't quite meet. I came to this place on Sunday: our three-month anniversary.

Lu told me that he wasn't going into the lab, so I wanted to make our time together perfect. Long story short, I was driven over the edge somewhere between burnt blueberry pancakes and "...just because I'm not going to the lab doesn't mean I'm not going to work at all."

This was certainly a learning moment in our marriage. One that involved heated tempers, raised voices, and a thrown Snuggie, but a learning moment nonetheless: I can simultaneously understand my husband's workload and acknowledge that I miss him. He can simultaneously be up to his curly locks in data analysis and make an effort to be mentally-present during the few hours that he's able to spend with me.


It's natural to feel guilty, neglected, or selfish when the pressures of life detract from our time together. Once we start our careers and have children, I know that this is going to become even more of a reality. The key is to make the time that we spend with each other count. We have to be honest -- with each other and ourselves -- about what we need to do and how we want to feel.

It can't just be work or life. There truly does have to be a balance.