Yesterday, I called Hubbs to tell him that, because of the rain, I wouldn't be taking the girls out as planned to pick up his sister's birthday present, so he'd have to watch them in the evening while I ran out. He suggested that I go as soon as he got home from work so that I could be home to help him get them ready for bed.
Here's the thing. Since the girls were born, I have forced myself to be able to take care of them on my own. Shortly after they were born, Hubbs' company pulled a shitty move and fired him for lack of production (not taking into account that he couldn't really keep his mind on producing with me in the hospital for eight weeks doing a little production of my own). Because of that, he was back on the market and took a position with a company that was known for long hours and zero tolerance for family life. So, basically, it's been me and the girls since the beginning. I didn't want to be hindered by them, nor did I want them to be cloistered for the bulk of their childhood so, where I went, they went. Occasionally, I'd ask my mom along or drop them off at the in-laws, but only for company or, in the case of the in-laws, guilt that they weren't spending enough time with them.
So when anyone (including Hubbs) says they need help in caring for two perfectly capable and intelligent toddlers, I have little patience for their inability to do it on their own. I just found out the other day that a friend of a friend won't go anywhere with her ONE child on her own. She either has to have her hubby or a friend accompany her. And she can't cook dinner or maintain the home without hubby there to entertain the child. Seriously? WTF?
Anyway, when Hubbs suggested I go earlier rather than later, I had a mini-meltdown. I told him he could put them to bed just fine on their own and that he better not call me ten minutes after I left the house to ask me where I was or to give me play-by-play of what was going on at the home front. Later, I told him that my signal dropped but really I just hung up on him. When he called back, he had the nerve to ask me how long I thought I would take. Deep breath.
That evening, as I was pulling out of the garage, I felt like I was pulling off dirty old clothes and jumping into a hot shower. I love my girls. I love Hubbs. But I sometimes feel like I am tethered to them, to the house, to my responsibilities. It felt good to shed that weight, if only for two hours.
Fifteen minutes later, my phone buzzed. I grimaced and debated whether I should answer it. Feeling generous after my stop at the coffee shop, I decided to answer in my most pleasant voice.
"Diet Coke. Please? We're out." I could hear the sheepish grin in his voice. He got the point, but his addiction got the better of him.
"Fine. Bye."
I didn't hear from him until ten minutes before I pulled into the driveway.
"I am not asking you when you are coming home. I just wanted to know if you wanted me to keep them up so you could help tuck them in, or if you want me to put them in bed now. They are ready."
I let him finish most of his sentence before I interrupted with instructions to put them to bed, as it was 8:45 p.m. by then. As I inched closer to home, I had a fleeting thought that I should just keep driving, to see what he would do and how long it would take for him to call me. But then I giggled, thinking about how I didn't have my laptop with me and I'd miss Facebook too much.
