It dawned on me, as I was folding clothes yesterday, that I could give the munchkin almost free reign with a paintbrush and leftover house paint and an already paint stained t-shirt. What better way to say Happy Father’s Day than a hand painted shirt Mr. Gadget has a multitude of ruined shirts, since the house painting job took several days and he didn’t bother using previously stained clothes, but rather wore something fresh each time.
We worked quickly, the wee one and I, while the daddy was out. He had left to share brunch with his family on Saturday, and was planning to be back early that afternoon, as some of my family were to visit us on Saturday also. We had loosely spoken of going to the lake and letting the children play with his new remote control toy speedboat. I elected to stay home, rather than join him for his brunch, because I wasn’t sure when my family would arrive.
Saturday morning turned into Saturday afternoon, which turned into Saturday evening. Saturday evening became Saturday night, and after several unanswered phone calls throughout the day, I realized that Mr. Inconsiderate Gadget was probably not going to come home. I had four children on my hands, and was feeling a bit overwhelmed. I had volunteered to watch them, which is a joy to me. Even so, a seven week old (such a beautiful little girl!), my toddler, and a seven and eleven year old all running in circles and making happy noises became a bit daunting every now and again. For the most part it was a breeze, but I sure would have liked the man I married to have been there. I was trying to decide whether I was angry or worried, but tried not to let it bother me, and went to bed around 12:30 a.m. The ladies returned from their night on the town around 2 a.m., and I turned the baby over to her mother. There’s something terrifying about watching an infant who is not my own. I didn’t know her breathing and her sounds well enough to feel confident that I could fall asleep safely with her. Of course she was fine. Even so. New life is a terrifying and precious responsibility.
There it was, 2 a.m. and still no husband. I went back to bed, and dreamed of the verbal lashing that I would give him. Morning arrived. I waited a little while before I called his mother. No, she hadn’t seen him since 3 p.m. the day before. This is the part where I got scared. A missing spouse. Many unanswered phone calls. Not where I expected him to be, if he were merely being an inconsiderate @$$. It was time to start calling all his other family members to try and find out more. I rang his sister, and while it was ringing, he called. The worry turned to relief in an instant, which quickly gave way to anger. U N A C C E P T A B L E. And when he finally arrived home, early Sunday afternoon, when I was asking what he was doing and why he didn’t answer my calls, he had the gall to ask me “What’s with the third degree ” I could have slugged him. I don’t have room in my life for an irresponsible spouse. I don’t think he really understood how close he was to being kicked to the curb. I was furious. He laid low all day, and I cooled down. He played with the children. We had a nice family supper. The rest of the family departed, and he turned on the Spiderman video for our love bug. I’m not angry any more, but I think it will take some time for the disappointment in his complete lack of judgement to fade.
He is the father of my most precious and beautiful boy. It’s his saving grace at this particular moment in time.
Miscellania Says:
