My Husband Still Has a Job

James generally works very long hours. Well, according to my standards, he does. He's gone every morning before we get up, then four out of five nights, he's not home until 7:00-8:30 P.M. Yesterday, around 5:30, the front door opened and in walked James. I was totally shocked.

The last time he came in early without specific warning was about four years ago when he'd been laid off from his job. He couldn't warn me then because the layoff obviously wasn't planned, and his business-owned cell phone was confiscated at the door. This time, though, he could have picked up the phone to let me know he'd be in early. He didn't call, and I think he learned a lesson.

When the front door opened unexpectedly and I saw him, I queried, "James?" But before I could ask, "What are you doing here," I thought about our expenses and our insurance and this pregnancy and a job search in this ridiculous economy and was suddenly overwhelmed. He reminded me that yesterday was non-traditional. He had an awards ceremony downtown. He swore he told me he'd be coming home early.

I thought back: He told me had the ceremony. He told me he'd be downtown. He asked me to iron his shirt. He never told me he'd be home early.

I cried -- actually shed tears -- with relief that he still had a job. My response shocked him completely. He insisted his job is secure at this point and reminded me we'd be fine even with a layoff, but still, that's a stress I just can't imagine adding to our lives right now. I don't want to be that strong.

New rule: Come home late whenever and don't bother to call, but never, ever come home early without warning me first.