Wendsday, Wonderful Wednesday

Wednesdays are always different. At work, I've scheduled no lunch break, so it's my “long day”. Back when I used to let her go to church, it was my Alexa break. My mom would often pick her up from daycare, feed her, take her to church and bring her home afterward, without me needing to rush anywhere to do anything. But that was 2 babies ago. I've stopped letting her go on Wednesdays for a couple of reasons. There was the fact that she didn't get to eat supper until 8:30. That she always had homework left over to finish after church. She had her trombone to practice. And a bath to take. She never made bedtime, or really ever got close, so I axed it. It was a hard decision, but she had too many responsibilities. She wasn't going for the religion, anyway. It was the social aspect.

But I digress. Or do I? Have I even started going anywhere to veer away from? Weekday evenings have been just the girls and me for several weeks months. If Lee wasn't working, which was rare, he had a softball game or practice, or batting cages... And if for some reason none of those were an issue, he usually had some errand or four to run, which kept him out until after the babies' bedtime. I'm really used to being a weekday single-mom. (We won't get into the technicalities of this statement here, ok?)

This week was a little different. For one thing, Lee called me at 4:30. I asked whether he was working, as I do every day. He said he was on the grill. I asked was he home? “No, if I was at home, I'd say I was home on the grill.” Ok, fine. So you're working again. Don't poke me with a feather, I'm liable to fall over. Or something. My mind tunes out the conversation and starts planning what to cook for supper. Anyway, he's got to get back on the grill. Oh, but first, do you need me to drop off your prescription for you? The one you've been refusin to turn in for the past week? It's no problem, I have plenty of time. I'll just get the babies and drag them to the store before Alexa's bus gets home. We'll be fine. Is it in your car? Should I stop by on my way home and get it? (Yes, then no.) Oh, where is it in the house? Ok, I'll find it, I'm sure.

His car wasn't in it's usual parking spot on my way past, but since I was on a bridge, I didn't get a really good look while driving. I could have easily missed it. And sometimes, if he's real late in the morning, he doesn't get his preferred spot. So, no big deal.

I got the babies without running home first because of the traffic and the route I took. We parked down the hill at the apartment, because we were just going to run in, grab the paper and get back in the car. Except that there was a familiar car parked there, also. A quick glance up the hill showed the grill out in the common area in front of the apartment. Hmmm, so you were really at home. And I bet the prescription really was in the car. It supposedly being in the house was a ruse to keep me from hunting your car down on my way home. Punk. You know I hate surprises. And lies for that matter. It's bad enough when you just show up without calling to say you left. I always call. You always know where I am. But you're home. And in a good mood for the first time in a long time, so we'll have this fight another day. I'm sure it'll come up again. (The picture is from Easter two years ago at his mom's house.)

Anyway, so the babies are happy to see their daddy. I'm free to leave them home and go to the pharmacy without them. Yaay! So I go. And I grab a case of water from the back of the store and carry it to the front. Along with the strawberries I couldn't resist. Wouldn't you know that the second I get in the checkout line, Lee calls to ask if I was bringing home butter. Oops, I'd used it all on baked potatoes the other day. Ok. Fine. Luckily I found an abandoned cart on my way back to the back of the store. Those waters were heavy by now. Ok, water? Check. Berries? Check. Butter? Check. Rx dropped off? Check. Away we go.

When I got home, Alexa realized she hadn't turned in her paperwork for this weekend's trip yet. And she needed to go to church to do that. Except that church started in 3 minutes. Her grandma was teaching a class, so she couldn't come get her. Luckily, we didn't have to load the babies up and off I went again. I was back in not very many minutes. The troops were getting restless, though. At least the veggies had been started, so they could soon have plates.

While we were waiting, we were talking. Somehow the subject got around to me asking him “So, if I were bad in bed, would you still sleep with me?” He's typically not a straight-answer kind of person. “If you're the one I'm with, I'd have to, wouldn't I?” So not my question. So instead I said “Well, as you're fond of telling me, we're not together.” Without looking up from stirring the pot, he said really softly, “Well, maybe it's time I stop telling you that.” My eyes got kinda teary and I took Jasmyne in the other room for a minute.

Tomorrow, the 16th, it'll have been two years since we had that big fight and I accidentally told him to move out. Sort of. He came back in September. A few factors were at work there. Mostly, he'd had a fight with the girl he'd moved in with. But also, Jasmyne was going to be born soon, and with an active one and a half year old, I was having difficulty getting everything taken care of by myself. If he was gonna be of any help at all after she was born, he was going to have to live here. Period.

Anyway, he's been doing some soul searching the past month or two. He appears to have come to some decisions, because he's been spending the night here more often, he's been nicer and he just seems more settled. He doesn't feel the need to tell me and for once I'm not pushing. I've got a pretty decent argument to make him tell me what's up, but it *might* be nice if he spits it out already says whatever it is of his own free will, on his own time.