I've been working second shift now for well over a year (so I can work on my writing during the day), and in that time, she has functionally become a single parent. She works all day, then comes home, makes dinner, cleans, makes the kids do homework and chores, makes sure they get baths, takes them to their swimming and dance lessons, plods through vast amounts of laundry, manages the budget and finances, and does most of the shopping. Then she does it all again the following day. No rest. No breaks. No complaining.
And in the midst of it all, she encourages me.
She believes that what I do during the day is an investment in our future. She believes that I'll get my books published, and eventually earn enough for us to stay home together. She believes that I'm a great writer, a great father, and a great husband, and she tells me almost every day. And on top of all of everything else - she's hot as hell.
At this point, I only have one chance at rescuing her. My only hope of easing her burden, eliminating the constant, overwhelming effort that fills her days . . .
. . . is to get published.
(I love you, Cindy. I want to make your dreams come true.)