I had to see a doctor earlier this week. It was a routine visit, he made the requisite mention of me doing something about my weight (whatever, like I don’t know I’m fat!), told me my blood pressure is lovely, which I think he found surprising considering my weight, and at the very end of the appointment, he told me to try and take some time for myself.
Oh. Okay.
I responded with a laugh that was on the verge of tears and said, “Honestly, the only time I don’t feel guilty about taking time for myself is during my morning shower each day. And that’s not always me time because sometimes, my younger daughter is in the bathroom, BUT NOT THE SHOWER, with me.”
The doctor gave me what I interpreted as a look of pity and concluded the appointment.
Sigh.
Time for myself? What is that? Is that doctor-speak for “Make time to exercise”? Because, yeah. I want to want to exercise but actually doing it? I feel like I’d have to lose fifty pounds just by dieting along before I don’t feel like a fool trying to exercise.
I know all this is ridiculous. Please don’t think I don’t know that. I know this self-pity is so stupid and inane. I know that I have it so good. I have a (mostly) kind husband and smart, sweet girls. I live ridiculously close to my mom and see her at least twice a week if not three or four times a week. Hell, she even has enough land that we could create a sort of walking course around it so we wouldn’t have to walk on the road and run the risk of being run over, kidnapped, getting tired while a long away from home…etc. So the potential for exercise is there…I just have to want to do it.
The whole conversation about taking time for myself reminded me a little of the latest episode of This Is Us (amazing show, if you haven’t seen it.) This episode concentrated on the lives of Jack and Rebecca, their beginning and their potential end. They’ve been married for quite a few years, have three teenagers and Rebecca has rediscovered her love of singing. An ex asked her to sing with his band and she loves doing it very much.
Jack hates that she’s away from home so much and they have this HUGE fight about it all.
Throughout the fight, she’s going on and on about how he just can’t stand that she’s found something for herself. He can’t stand that she isn’t at home, waiting for him, waiting for the kids, waiting for her life to start.
He tells her she’s a forty year old mother and that the singing thing is delusional. Yikes.
Each time she screams, “I finally have something for myself and you can’t stand it.” I cringe.
Maybe I cringe because I’ve been socialized to think that we wives and moms aren’t even supposed to want something that doesn’t revolve around our husbands and children. That’s so wrong.
I need to find a way to change my mindset and rethink everything. I need to figure out why I’m so broken and fix myself. If I can’t do it for me…maybe I can trick my brain into thinking I’m doing it for my girls. If I can invoke their needs as my own and make it about setting a good example for them…maybe.
Maybe.
A mom, a dad and two daughters. We're living ordinary lives with a twist of 5p- (Cri du Chat) for spice. But we're about so much more than our younger daughter's genetic diagnosis.
Thursday, March 16, 2017
Tuesday, March 14, 2017
Lockers
One thing that was brought up (by me) at the very end of our IEP meeting for Olivia last week was the fact that next year she’ll have a locker with a combination.
The year after Alyssa was in fifth grade, the fourth graders were moved from the elementary wing of the school to the junior high wing. They’re still considered elementary but they’re bunched down with the fifth, sixth, seventh and eighth graders now.
As it is now, Olivia has a locker but there is no lock on it. She puts her backpack, her lunch, and her coat in that locker daily and because she’s in third grade there are no valuables that need to be locked up.
Next year, though, even though she’ll still have no valuables she’ll have a locker with a lock…a combination lock.
I shared my skepticism as to whether or not she’d be able to master the combination lock and was assured that she’ll have time to get used to it. For the first month or so, it was suggested that she practice unlocking her locker but if she can’t do it in a reasonable amount of time she’ll be able to take her coat, lunch, and backpack to her classroom.
I said that we’ll buy a combination lock and let her practice at home but I worry that having another combination might not actually help. It might just clutter up her brain with too many numbers and too much left, right, left crap. I guess we’ll see.
Right this second, I can’t let myself worry about it because if I do, I’m borrowing trouble and we’re still smack dab in third grade with plenty of trouble right here that needs to be handled. Let’s not worry about fourth grade until at least July!
Yeah.
The year after Alyssa was in fifth grade, the fourth graders were moved from the elementary wing of the school to the junior high wing. They’re still considered elementary but they’re bunched down with the fifth, sixth, seventh and eighth graders now.
As it is now, Olivia has a locker but there is no lock on it. She puts her backpack, her lunch, and her coat in that locker daily and because she’s in third grade there are no valuables that need to be locked up.
Next year, though, even though she’ll still have no valuables she’ll have a locker with a lock…a combination lock.
I shared my skepticism as to whether or not she’d be able to master the combination lock and was assured that she’ll have time to get used to it. For the first month or so, it was suggested that she practice unlocking her locker but if she can’t do it in a reasonable amount of time she’ll be able to take her coat, lunch, and backpack to her classroom.
I said that we’ll buy a combination lock and let her practice at home but I worry that having another combination might not actually help. It might just clutter up her brain with too many numbers and too much left, right, left crap. I guess we’ll see.
Right this second, I can’t let myself worry about it because if I do, I’m borrowing trouble and we’re still smack dab in third grade with plenty of trouble right here that needs to be handled. Let’s not worry about fourth grade until at least July!
Yeah.
Monday, March 13, 2017
Sick Kid
Last week was miserable all the way around.
Olivia came down with a cold on Sunday. She was sniffly, achy, and whiny; basically, she was miserable and wanted to make sure we all knew it.
The first night, she was achy and so sleep didn’t come easily. She whimpered most of the night, often asking, “Why am I so achy? How can my throat hurt when I don’t even have any tonsils? It even hurts when I yawn.”
At that point, it was around 2:30am, so I gently told her, “If you’d go to sleep, you wouldn’t be yawning and then you wouldn’t be hurting.”
She stayed home from school on Monday but seemed to be on the mend so we sent her to school on Tuesday. When I got home from work, she looked pale and tired but a little better. But her nose was still full of thick green snot. Her right nostril and the area around her nose was red from being rubbed all day long.
And let me ask right here, how does one teach a child to blow their nose? If nose-blowing doesn’t come naturally, how do you teach it? Nothing has ever come naturally to Olivia. But I know that once she learns to blow her nose, she won’t ever forget. However, this particular cold did not lend itself to the learning of blowing her nose.
Nope, instead, she went through a box of tissues a day, wiping that disgusting green snot on a corner of a tissue and then throwing it away and yanking a new tissue out of the box.
I even went out and bought her fancy tissues with LOTION hoping they would be kinder to her nose and the cheek area surrounding said nose.
As of yesterday morning, her face looks better. The redness has healed a bit and she’s on the mend.
I will confess to having given her Benadryl last night and the night before last. Not only was I hoping it would dry her up, she and I both needed the sleep that might come from it.
All this to say that I’m tired. So, so tired. Alyssa said to me one day last week, “Did you know that sleep deprivation is a form of torture?”
I turned slowly toward her and said, “You don’t say?”
By the time she said this it had been at least three nights during which Olivia woke me up at least four times, sometimes for an hour or more at a time. She needed new tissues, or she needed a washcloth to clean the dried snot. Sometimes she wanted a drink of water or she needed to me replace the water in the bottle I’d given her just the hour before with COLD water, thank you very much because this water has been out of the fridge for an hour and isn’t cold ENOUGH. Sometimes, she just wanted company because, hey, she was awake and could I just be awake with her? Hi.
I know we went through about eight years of these kinds of nights but the past two years having been lovely, what with the sleeping through the night five out of seven nights. So five nights in a row of NOT sleeping through the night was torture for me.
So yeah, not apologizing for the Benadryl. Not even a little. Saturday night she only woke me up once. Last night? Not at all.
I’m hopeful that we’re all on the mend at this point.
Olivia came down with a cold on Sunday. She was sniffly, achy, and whiny; basically, she was miserable and wanted to make sure we all knew it.
The first night, she was achy and so sleep didn’t come easily. She whimpered most of the night, often asking, “Why am I so achy? How can my throat hurt when I don’t even have any tonsils? It even hurts when I yawn.”
At that point, it was around 2:30am, so I gently told her, “If you’d go to sleep, you wouldn’t be yawning and then you wouldn’t be hurting.”
She stayed home from school on Monday but seemed to be on the mend so we sent her to school on Tuesday. When I got home from work, she looked pale and tired but a little better. But her nose was still full of thick green snot. Her right nostril and the area around her nose was red from being rubbed all day long.
And let me ask right here, how does one teach a child to blow their nose? If nose-blowing doesn’t come naturally, how do you teach it? Nothing has ever come naturally to Olivia. But I know that once she learns to blow her nose, she won’t ever forget. However, this particular cold did not lend itself to the learning of blowing her nose.
Nope, instead, she went through a box of tissues a day, wiping that disgusting green snot on a corner of a tissue and then throwing it away and yanking a new tissue out of the box.
I even went out and bought her fancy tissues with LOTION hoping they would be kinder to her nose and the cheek area surrounding said nose.
As of yesterday morning, her face looks better. The redness has healed a bit and she’s on the mend.
I will confess to having given her Benadryl last night and the night before last. Not only was I hoping it would dry her up, she and I both needed the sleep that might come from it.
All this to say that I’m tired. So, so tired. Alyssa said to me one day last week, “Did you know that sleep deprivation is a form of torture?”
I turned slowly toward her and said, “You don’t say?”
By the time she said this it had been at least three nights during which Olivia woke me up at least four times, sometimes for an hour or more at a time. She needed new tissues, or she needed a washcloth to clean the dried snot. Sometimes she wanted a drink of water or she needed to me replace the water in the bottle I’d given her just the hour before with COLD water, thank you very much because this water has been out of the fridge for an hour and isn’t cold ENOUGH. Sometimes, she just wanted company because, hey, she was awake and could I just be awake with her? Hi.
I know we went through about eight years of these kinds of nights but the past two years having been lovely, what with the sleeping through the night five out of seven nights. So five nights in a row of NOT sleeping through the night was torture for me.
So yeah, not apologizing for the Benadryl. Not even a little. Saturday night she only woke me up once. Last night? Not at all.
I’m hopeful that we’re all on the mend at this point.
Thursday, March 9, 2017
And Now for Something More Positive
Remember that post from last week, the one about a note home from school? Yeah.
Yesterday was our annual IEP meeting to discuss Olivia’s progress and what accommodations she’ll need/receive next year.
First, let me state how grateful I am to her teachers, therapists and most importantly, the principal of her school. These people make me feel good about sending my child to them every single day.
Sure, I have moments of doubt like the one a couple of weeks ago when notes come home but we discussed that note in our meeting and her principal said that she actually likes that Olivia gets stubborn with them sometimes. She WANTS Olivia to find her voice, to start being a little bratty even because it means she’s coming out of her shell, she’s getting comfortable with everyone working with her and her place at the school.
At one point in our discussion about Olivia’s limitations and frustrations with her lack of attention, Mrs. M, the principal stopped us all. She had something important to tell us, she said.
“Let me start out by saying that I love Olivia. I started working here when Olivia was in KinderKids and at that point, none of us knew what Olivia could do because she was, and still is, such a mystery. She wasn’t talking to anyone here at school and we were beginning to think she would need to be placed in the special education class full time because we just didn’t know what she knew.
“Now, though, four years later, she’s proving she can do the work. She’s talking to every single adult that comes in contact with her. She talks to one peer at a time as long as no one else is focused on her.
“And most importantly, when she was in KinderKids it never occurred to any of us that she would take the standardized state testing. We planned to exempt her from the start. Then, when we decided last year to let her take the tests, we exempted her from having to pass those tests in order to move on to fourth grade. But guess what? She passed! She passed when other kids, typical kids, did not. She can do this work. We just have to break a few bad habits that have formed over the years for her and for us. She likes to be babied. She’ll let anyone, peers, teachers, therapists, parents, siblings, you name it, if they’ll baby her, Olivia will let them.”
At this point, she paused to let us all take it in.
Finally, she continued, “Olivia has proven she can do the academic work of her typical peers. Sure, we make some accommodations but in the end, she’s proven herself and we just have to continue to let her do that and expect it of her.”
It was all very reminiscent of the day we got Liv’s diagnosis. Her doctor told us to take her home, to love her, and to expect from her what we expect from her sister.
The meeting continued. Liv will continue to receive weekly speech therapy with a peer because she will already talk to the therapist but doesn’t seem to want to converse with peers, so we’ll work on that.
She’ll get more time, fewer options in multiple choice tests, the occasional pull-out for tests or extra help and she’ll stay in the mainstream classroom as much as possible because that’s where she’s getting the most out of school. Being with her typical peers is very important. She’s a mimicker. She’ll do pretty much whatever those around her are doing, even if quietly off on her own.
Which is why we don’t want her placed in a special education class with other special needs kids. She needs to be around typical peers to learn what typical behavior is expected of her.
I feel so much better today than I did last week when I wrote about that note.
I have so much hope for Olivia, so much faith in the team working with her and so much pride in how far my girl has come. She’s a warrior. She works so hard and yes, she can challenge the most patient person in the world but she’s a fighter and the fact that she challenges us just means she’s got a mind of her own and she’s figuring out how to express what is going on in that amazing mind of hers.
Yesterday was our annual IEP meeting to discuss Olivia’s progress and what accommodations she’ll need/receive next year.
First, let me state how grateful I am to her teachers, therapists and most importantly, the principal of her school. These people make me feel good about sending my child to them every single day.
Sure, I have moments of doubt like the one a couple of weeks ago when notes come home but we discussed that note in our meeting and her principal said that she actually likes that Olivia gets stubborn with them sometimes. She WANTS Olivia to find her voice, to start being a little bratty even because it means she’s coming out of her shell, she’s getting comfortable with everyone working with her and her place at the school.
At one point in our discussion about Olivia’s limitations and frustrations with her lack of attention, Mrs. M, the principal stopped us all. She had something important to tell us, she said.
“Let me start out by saying that I love Olivia. I started working here when Olivia was in KinderKids and at that point, none of us knew what Olivia could do because she was, and still is, such a mystery. She wasn’t talking to anyone here at school and we were beginning to think she would need to be placed in the special education class full time because we just didn’t know what she knew.
“Now, though, four years later, she’s proving she can do the work. She’s talking to every single adult that comes in contact with her. She talks to one peer at a time as long as no one else is focused on her.
“And most importantly, when she was in KinderKids it never occurred to any of us that she would take the standardized state testing. We planned to exempt her from the start. Then, when we decided last year to let her take the tests, we exempted her from having to pass those tests in order to move on to fourth grade. But guess what? She passed! She passed when other kids, typical kids, did not. She can do this work. We just have to break a few bad habits that have formed over the years for her and for us. She likes to be babied. She’ll let anyone, peers, teachers, therapists, parents, siblings, you name it, if they’ll baby her, Olivia will let them.”
At this point, she paused to let us all take it in.
Finally, she continued, “Olivia has proven she can do the academic work of her typical peers. Sure, we make some accommodations but in the end, she’s proven herself and we just have to continue to let her do that and expect it of her.”
It was all very reminiscent of the day we got Liv’s diagnosis. Her doctor told us to take her home, to love her, and to expect from her what we expect from her sister.
The meeting continued. Liv will continue to receive weekly speech therapy with a peer because she will already talk to the therapist but doesn’t seem to want to converse with peers, so we’ll work on that.
She’ll get more time, fewer options in multiple choice tests, the occasional pull-out for tests or extra help and she’ll stay in the mainstream classroom as much as possible because that’s where she’s getting the most out of school. Being with her typical peers is very important. She’s a mimicker. She’ll do pretty much whatever those around her are doing, even if quietly off on her own.
Which is why we don’t want her placed in a special education class with other special needs kids. She needs to be around typical peers to learn what typical behavior is expected of her.
I feel so much better today than I did last week when I wrote about that note.
I have so much hope for Olivia, so much faith in the team working with her and so much pride in how far my girl has come. She’s a warrior. She works so hard and yes, she can challenge the most patient person in the world but she’s a fighter and the fact that she challenges us just means she’s got a mind of her own and she’s figuring out how to express what is going on in that amazing mind of hers.
Wednesday, March 8, 2017
Homemade Chicken Nuggets
Alyssa spent the night with her friend Tessa last weekend. Tessa’s mom called earlier in the week and said that she and Tessa were going shopping on Saturday for track shoes and shorts and they wanted to know if Lyss could/would go with them since she’s an old hand at track now that this is her second year doing it. Tessa’s mom said the shopping trip would extend into an overnight visit if we were okay with that.
I asked Alyssa if she wanted to go and then spend the night and she did. So it happened. Yay!
When she got home on Sunday she said that for dinner the night before, Tessa’s mom had made homemade chicken nuggets and they were awesome.
That’s a thing? Really? When there is the convenience of Tyson chicken nuggets in your very own grocer’s freezer case, people make homemade chicken nuggets? I mean…I don’t get it.
But apparently this is a thing and it’s a thing that Tessa’s mom does.
Even though I was in the middle of spooning chocolate chip cookie dough onto cookie sheets and baking that dough into delicious cookies, I immediately felt inadequate.
And let me say right here that the cookie dough was from scratch, not the kind one can get in the grocer’s dairy aisle along aide the premade tubes of biscuit dough (which I DO happened to buy because…yeah, it’s there and I’m incredibly lazy.)
But the point is, I was making cookies for my family, because they enjoy them so much and sometimes I overcome my incredible laziness to do nice things for them and there I was feeling bad because I don’t also make chicken nuggets.
Which is so stupid and I need to remember my conversation with Alyssa from less than a week ago about not comparing ourselves to others, to just doing our own best and owning that.
I ended up feeling weirdly bad for several hours about the chicken nuggets. I have no explanation except maybe I enjoy putting myself down and telling myself how horrible I am. Maybe I get a thrill out of seeing just how mean my own inner voices can be.
Who knows?
What I do know, though, is that I won’t be making homemade chicken nuggets anytime soon, no matter how often Tessa’s mom makes them. It just seems like a lot of work and I’d rather back cookies over here any day.
I asked Alyssa if she wanted to go and then spend the night and she did. So it happened. Yay!
When she got home on Sunday she said that for dinner the night before, Tessa’s mom had made homemade chicken nuggets and they were awesome.
That’s a thing? Really? When there is the convenience of Tyson chicken nuggets in your very own grocer’s freezer case, people make homemade chicken nuggets? I mean…I don’t get it.
But apparently this is a thing and it’s a thing that Tessa’s mom does.
Even though I was in the middle of spooning chocolate chip cookie dough onto cookie sheets and baking that dough into delicious cookies, I immediately felt inadequate.
And let me say right here that the cookie dough was from scratch, not the kind one can get in the grocer’s dairy aisle along aide the premade tubes of biscuit dough (which I DO happened to buy because…yeah, it’s there and I’m incredibly lazy.)
But the point is, I was making cookies for my family, because they enjoy them so much and sometimes I overcome my incredible laziness to do nice things for them and there I was feeling bad because I don’t also make chicken nuggets.
Which is so stupid and I need to remember my conversation with Alyssa from less than a week ago about not comparing ourselves to others, to just doing our own best and owning that.
I ended up feeling weirdly bad for several hours about the chicken nuggets. I have no explanation except maybe I enjoy putting myself down and telling myself how horrible I am. Maybe I get a thrill out of seeing just how mean my own inner voices can be.
Who knows?
What I do know, though, is that I won’t be making homemade chicken nuggets anytime soon, no matter how often Tessa’s mom makes them. It just seems like a lot of work and I’d rather back cookies over here any day.
Tuesday, March 7, 2017
No Comparison
Last Monday I took Alyssa to watch the high school choir and band concerts. It had been assigned as ‘homework’ to all of the junior high choir members to attend this concert. I think the choir director was trying to drum up an audience for the concert but whatever, there we were.
There is a freshman flute player who is amazing. As a freshman, she’s already the section lead. This freshman, let’s call her Harmony (Buffy shout out!!) also plays the piccolo and sings, as was evidenced during the concert, during which she had two solos (there were all of three songs…just saying.)
It should also be pointed out that Harmony’s mom also played the flute and Harmony has been receiving private lessons since she was seven. I know this because I spent an hour each way on a bus with her mom last year and well, what do band mom’s talk about other than their kids?
So yeah, Harmony is only a year ahead of Alyssa.
On the way home from the concert, Lyss mentioned the number of singing and flute solos Harmony had that night.
I shrugged and said, “Yeah, she’s pretty good.”
We drove in silence for a bit and then I said, “You know you can’t compare yourself to her, right?”
“Oh, I know,” Alyssa assured me.
But I wasn’t assured. I mean, Lyss works so hard, has so much talent and there’s Harmony over there with just as much talent and she obviously works hard too. And she’s a year older, so she’s got that working for her.
But I had to try and remind Alyssa of how amazing she is, without any comparison to Harmony in the mix.
“I’m sorry Harmony’s only a year older than you are,” I said with a bit of a laugh.
“Yeah,” Lyss joined me in laughter. “She’s going to be there until I’m a senior!”
“But you know that no matter how good she is, that doesn’t make you any less good, right?” I said.
She gave that some thought and then brightened up a little. “You’re right. She might be good but so am I. Just because she’s section lead doesn’t mean I wouldn’t be if she weren’t already there. And really, it helps that she’s older. I mean, imagine being one of the senior flute players and having that freshman come in and take your place? At least I KNOW she’s always going to be there.”
“And her being there doesn’t diminish how hard you work or how talented you are.”
“I know!” And this time, I was reassured. My girl’s strong sense of self-worth was fully intact.
Now…if only I could practice what I preach.
There is a freshman flute player who is amazing. As a freshman, she’s already the section lead. This freshman, let’s call her Harmony (Buffy shout out!!) also plays the piccolo and sings, as was evidenced during the concert, during which she had two solos (there were all of three songs…just saying.)
It should also be pointed out that Harmony’s mom also played the flute and Harmony has been receiving private lessons since she was seven. I know this because I spent an hour each way on a bus with her mom last year and well, what do band mom’s talk about other than their kids?
So yeah, Harmony is only a year ahead of Alyssa.
On the way home from the concert, Lyss mentioned the number of singing and flute solos Harmony had that night.
I shrugged and said, “Yeah, she’s pretty good.”
We drove in silence for a bit and then I said, “You know you can’t compare yourself to her, right?”
“Oh, I know,” Alyssa assured me.
But I wasn’t assured. I mean, Lyss works so hard, has so much talent and there’s Harmony over there with just as much talent and she obviously works hard too. And she’s a year older, so she’s got that working for her.
But I had to try and remind Alyssa of how amazing she is, without any comparison to Harmony in the mix.
“I’m sorry Harmony’s only a year older than you are,” I said with a bit of a laugh.
“Yeah,” Lyss joined me in laughter. “She’s going to be there until I’m a senior!”
“But you know that no matter how good she is, that doesn’t make you any less good, right?” I said.
She gave that some thought and then brightened up a little. “You’re right. She might be good but so am I. Just because she’s section lead doesn’t mean I wouldn’t be if she weren’t already there. And really, it helps that she’s older. I mean, imagine being one of the senior flute players and having that freshman come in and take your place? At least I KNOW she’s always going to be there.”
“And her being there doesn’t diminish how hard you work or how talented you are.”
“I know!” And this time, I was reassured. My girl’s strong sense of self-worth was fully intact.
Now…if only I could practice what I preach.
Wednesday, March 1, 2017
Husband of the Year
I had a horrible day on Monday. It was so bad that I was near tears most of that evening even though the day itself was basically over. I was just distraught and was having a hard time pulling myself out of my own head.
Tom listened to me vent when I got home. Then he listened again later that evening when other things occurred to me that I hadn’t said earlier.
The next morning, he told me he hoped I had a better day.
I muttered, “Probably not going to happen, it’s Tuesday, after all and Tuesdays are notoriously worse than Mondays for me.”
Poor guy didn’t know what to say after that, so he just kissed me goodbye.
Well, his wish came true, yesterday wasn’t nearly as horrible as Monday. When I got home, though, I braced myself before walking in the door. I mean, it’s what we do, right? We working parents? We get through the day at work and then brace ourselves for second shift, which starts the instant we get home?
I walked in and there were Tom and the girls, at the kitchen table, finishing up dinner.
He’d made dinner for them early so they could be done eating close to when I got home because that would mean I didn’t have to deal with figuring out what to cook, listening to fussy eaters, etc.
And because she’d had a math test yesterday, Olivia didn’t have any homework.
Tom suggested I go lay down for a while, that I could have my own dinner when I felt like it and it could just be a relaxing evening for me.
Well, since it was Tuesday, my dad had to show up for a ‘quick’ visit. I’ve tried to tell this man more times than I can count that week nights are BAD for us. They are too busy, too hectic, too short for him to ‘stop by.’ He doesn’t care. He’s retired, what does Tuesday mean to him? I greeted him at the door with a curt, “It’s Tuesday. How are you?” Then I told him that I had about ten minutes to talk to him because Olivia needed a bath. And it’s true, she does take a bath every Tuesday so it wasn’t just that I was trying to make a point that I figured he wouldn’t get. You can’t be subtle with my dad.
But! Even though that happened, most of the night was nice and calm and way better than the night before and it’s all because my husband listened to me the night before. He heard my stress and took steps to try and alleviate even a little of it.
It’s moments like this that make me glad I married that man.
Tom listened to me vent when I got home. Then he listened again later that evening when other things occurred to me that I hadn’t said earlier.
The next morning, he told me he hoped I had a better day.
I muttered, “Probably not going to happen, it’s Tuesday, after all and Tuesdays are notoriously worse than Mondays for me.”
Poor guy didn’t know what to say after that, so he just kissed me goodbye.
Well, his wish came true, yesterday wasn’t nearly as horrible as Monday. When I got home, though, I braced myself before walking in the door. I mean, it’s what we do, right? We working parents? We get through the day at work and then brace ourselves for second shift, which starts the instant we get home?
I walked in and there were Tom and the girls, at the kitchen table, finishing up dinner.
He’d made dinner for them early so they could be done eating close to when I got home because that would mean I didn’t have to deal with figuring out what to cook, listening to fussy eaters, etc.
And because she’d had a math test yesterday, Olivia didn’t have any homework.
Tom suggested I go lay down for a while, that I could have my own dinner when I felt like it and it could just be a relaxing evening for me.
Well, since it was Tuesday, my dad had to show up for a ‘quick’ visit. I’ve tried to tell this man more times than I can count that week nights are BAD for us. They are too busy, too hectic, too short for him to ‘stop by.’ He doesn’t care. He’s retired, what does Tuesday mean to him? I greeted him at the door with a curt, “It’s Tuesday. How are you?” Then I told him that I had about ten minutes to talk to him because Olivia needed a bath. And it’s true, she does take a bath every Tuesday so it wasn’t just that I was trying to make a point that I figured he wouldn’t get. You can’t be subtle with my dad.
But! Even though that happened, most of the night was nice and calm and way better than the night before and it’s all because my husband listened to me the night before. He heard my stress and took steps to try and alleviate even a little of it.
It’s moments like this that make me glad I married that man.
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