10 Words in 10 Days…Day 6
1. showing or feeling slight anger; annoyed.
I’m not sure which is worse…
Having to leave my children alone with my husband or having to leave my children alone with their father. And yes, they are in fact the same person.
My husband, although an excellent family provider, an indisputable genius, and a jack of all trades, can not do anything domestic. He doesn’t cook, or clean, or do laundry, or even barbecue! I mean, c’mon. How many men do you know who don’t barbecue?
It is kind of a running joke around here about how it will all go down once I’m gone. First, they will all starve. Second, they will all be wearing dirty clothes. And finally, every garbage pail in the house will be overflowing. Oh, and there will be NO toilet paper…anywhere.
Now, my husband is 12 years my senior. You’d think by now he’d have picked up something along the way. And although, I have taught my girls how to run the washer and dryer, they will still call me a countless amount of times, “What button do I push again?” And more than likely, this will happen at mile 3 of the marathon. And no, I’m not kidding.
I’ll never forget the time I was running the Women Rock half marathon and my phone began to ring. It was my daughter asking if they could have a friend over.
“Ask your father?” I said.
“I don’t know where he is.” was the reply.
“Well, I’m running a race. He’s home. I’m not. Ask him.” I said.
Minutes pass. Ring Ring Ring.
“He said it was OK with him if it was OK with you.”
Dear God…help me.
Now, I’ll admit that my husband has admitted that he would do more, if he weren’t so lazy. He just doesn’t have the time or patience to learn any of it…let alone retain it. So, this makes any trip I take out of town that much more stressful. Not only that, but I might add that my girls were 9 years old when I was finally permitted to go anywhere…alone…for more than 13 hours. Now that they are 14, you’d think it would be just a tad bit easier. At least now they can run the oven and cook or bake something.
This is my husbands line du jour.
“Here is our dinner plan for when you are away. McDonald’s, Target, Subway, McDonald’s, Target, Subway, McDonald’s…when do you get back? Oh right, and whatever you make after you get off the plane.”
And to make matters worse, he thinks this is amusing as hell, so he repeats it to me everyday.
I kind of feel bad for him, a little. I mean, he is used to coming in after a hard day’s work (after having to microwave his own breakfast and lunch) to a hot, nourishing, home made supper, which he eats most of before I even get it to the table. It’s rough!
My girls, on the other hand, can get whatever they want as long as they don’t whine or complain, or aggravate their father. This means that a stop to Walmart for a Subway sandwich turns into a smorgasbord of high trans-fat foods, gallons of ice cream, and endless tins of smoked oysters. Yeah…you read that right.
I suppose, it is their time to just let it go…forget the rules of the household at least until I arrive home. Kind of like a vacation from Mom…that is, except for the 67 phone calls I’ll get everyday. And I have no doubt, no doubt at all that I’ll get one phone call from the school nurse telling me someone has to come home.
“Yeah. I can pick her up in about 3 days. Have her lay down until I get there.”