Chef's Widow

I have wanted to start my own blog for awhile now. I love Catcher Crazy Face but every now and then I feel the need to vent not only for my own sanity but also for those around me. I think that I have finally settled into our new apartment in Brooklyn, however the past three weeks have been tough. I literally moved here on June 8th (my 27th birthday) and have not had any internet access since that day. Now I know that sounds totally lame but moving to Brooklyn, becoming a 'stay @ home hot mamma,' not having internet, moving into a tiny apartment, and barely seeing the man you love can make a girl super crazed (which I was). Now I am feeling better, Jon has a couple days off, I have the net, the dogs are happy, and Catcher keeps getting cuter.
I guess I should start off with some backstory...
My husband Jon is a chef, a damn good chef that is. Way back in February he received an offer to open a rerstaurant in NYC. We discussed, we fought, I cried, and we came to a decision. Jon would move back to Manhattan (we lived there before we had the baby) and I would stay in Cleveland and try to rent or sell our house. It wasn't until the end of May that this was accomplished. So for the past 6 months, Catcher-our son, Potato-our pitbull, Vito-our Perrier, and I had been living back in the 'burbs. At the beginning of June, our fate was decided. We found an apartment in Park Slope, Brooklyn, a fabulous neighborhood filled with families and lesbians. We moved in, got unpacked, and I began my new life as a Chef's Widow. What is a Chef's Widow, you ask? I recently was called a CW by the GM at my hubs restaurant, Parea (in Gramercy). I believe that the definition is as followed: A woman married to man who is also married to the kitchen. Quite simply I married my best friend, my love, and by far the most fabulous man I have ever met. In trade for this perfect man I live the life of a widow. I see him after midnight and before 9am. He gets one day off a week, sometimes...It is worth it though, I eat like a queen and when we do have a minute together, it always seems brand new. We fight, nut we don't really have time, so we make up quickly. I never get bored of him, because I rarely see him. It is one of those situations that works. I think if he had a 9-5'er I would kill him, seriously, I would.
I guess the whole point of this useless rambling, is that no matter how hard the past 6 months or even the past three weeks were, I am estatic that my family is together. I am safe again each night laying in my husbands arms while my baby, Catcher sleeps next door and my doggies are under the covers. Life is what I never thought I deserved. Bellissima!