This has been a bad week, and so far it’s been a terrible day.
Things kicked off when I was working on GUGS. I went back and read some of my old blog that talked about working at camp, just to see what sort of gems I had hidden there. I unearthed something awful: entry after entry about how our marriage was deteriorating in the summer of 2002. That was a shitty, fucked up summer. TMD had always picked work before family from the start of things, and that summer was the ultimate in painful confusion. We came very close to ending things. We got through it, though, and that’s what counts.
But rereading all of that? Wow.
I remember being so angry when I was writing, my fingers pounding the keyboard. Now I don’t see anger when I read those entries, I see lots and lots of hurt. I’ve always been one to go all hard and angry when I am hurting.
So. That was just this past weekend that I read that stuff again. It was sort of shocking, particularly because we have the happiest marriage I could dream of. And things have only gotten better since the babies.
But Monday night TMD was really late home from work. I couldn’t get too upset about this because her work involves very vulnerable young people, and this was sort of an emergency situation. Then came Tuesday. She told me she had a meeting scheduled that would go half an hour later than usual. When that time plus another 25 minutes passed, I rang her just to see if she was on her way home. She said she was only just leaving work. I let loose some sort of rageful sigh and hung up.
When she was home, I escaped into the bathroom….but not before saying, ‘Do you have an excuse tonight? Well, fuck you.’ I know. Any little blogger crush you have on me is fading fast at this point.
Last night was fine, except I didn’t even want to talk to her.
All of these things are isolated incidents that happened to happen in a bad week. Why bad? Here is the meat of it, the bit you could have sliced directly to: this country does not celebrate a well known holiday. My home country does. This morning, people all over that country are waking up to a long weekend with their families.
This morning, I woke up knowing that TMD was working until 9 pm tonight, even though she knew it was this particular holiday and it was important to me. Now, working that late any night would bug me. By about 5 in the afternoon, my SPD is kicking into high gear and I’m in quite a bit of pain. And, I LOVE MY CHILDREN, but no matter how great our day has been, they are getting a bit rambunctious by about 5:30. Yesterday was an extra dollop because they wanted to eat at the same times and there was no appeasing them. So, you see, my mommy nerves are getting a bit wound up.
Plus I just miss my wife. I watch the clock in the afternoons, looking forward to the time I hear her keys in the door.
I am pissed she is working tonight. Yesterday I realised what I really want is her to not be working today or tomorrow; I want to establish traditions. We never really made a big deal of this holiday before. We are both veggies, so our traditional turkey day meal involves copious amounts of Indian food. And perhaps this potato and onion thing I excel at.
Growing up, this holiday wasn’t a big deal to my family either – but then, ‘family’ wasn’t a big deal to my family. Everyone was always screaming at each other, or ignoring each other, and having to sit around the table for dinner was usually quite a painful experience. I wanted this to be different for my kids.
TMD’s dad just called and left a message wishing me a happy day. He said he knew I was far away from my home country and my family, and he said he bet I was homesick on this days like this. He gets it, why doesn’t she?!?
I don’t know what she can do to make this better. I told her over a month ago how important this day was to me, and she still never changed her plans to work so late. I know she feels trapped into it. I know she just wants to do a good job at work. I know in another two months or so I’ll be getting no pay, and that she is the main provider for our house.
I know it, and I’m still hurt to be spending the most family of family holidays as a threesome rather than a foursome. I hate knowing that I have Crazy Woman Mind, and that every future year on this holiday I will be reminded that she fucking was absent for Coconut and Snort’s first one. (There, the crush died all the way, didn’t it.)
I am hurt, angry, hurt. Hurt.
And hurt some more.
She tries so hard to be so sweet, and I feel like it doesn’t matter because I have been sticking-power-mad all week, and there are no signs of these thunderclouds breaking any time soon. The last time I was this sort of mad was in that bad, bad summer of 2002. I generally don’t get upset about shit. We also very very very rarely fight, if ever.
This morning we were both screaming at each other. She then fed Coconut while weeping, while I sat on the edge of the bed wanting to isolate myself from her. She ripped up a letter she wrote me (which Coconut watched me tape back together with interest, as I explained to her the intricacies of letter surgery), and left a turkey day letter/pictures from the babies.
Christ. I think Snort just pooped. Neither kid has pooped in days, so there is going to be some ass explosion, bouncy chair staining, poop pants today. *sigh*
I am lonely on this day when I should be all cosy and chilled. I have to try to relax so at least the babies can have a good day.