Last night I was moderately perturbed by Rodney.
I try my best not to get frazzled by his Rodney-isms. I hate nagging, and I pride myself on being a pretty self-sufficient, easy-going wife. With Rodney being gone a lot, I continue to be independent, but my occupation as a "homemaker" makes me quite reliant on his financial contributions and ConAgra. He is constantly connected to work, either by email, IM, text, voicemail, cell phone, or just basically thinking about his ongoing projects. He is most definitely a workaholic, an Excel spreadsheet genius (he loves Excel), a 24-h thinking, breathing, acting and loving food scientist.
I can't say that I care or even listen to the trials and tribulations of Manwich or the drama surrounding off-season, remanufactured Hunts Diced Tomatoes, but it's what keeps us afloat. Sometimes I will ask about his day and paraphrase the details of his the great tomato debate. It is exciting watching him get all excited about his role in the project and how he is impacting this or that, how people from all departments what his opinion, and how important and involved he can be in something that really translates to me as a can of 10 for $10 at HyVee. Rodney has passion, not just for tomatoes per se, but for improving processes, and products, for meeting deadlines and achieving goals. He's so obedient and loyal.
So when he's away for weeks at a time, for months during the summer, and works late when he is in Omaha, I consciously try to not be a bitch. I try to do as much as I can and complain as little as possible. After all, some may think I have the perfect life. Rodney is one of those people. (Now I must admit, when I lost my job last year and was unemployed during my 2nd trimester, THAT was the perfect life).
The perfect homemaker life would be one that has either no children, OR perfectly behaved, listening, smiling, children who communicate without being overly loud or whiny, who love to get in and out of cars quickly and efficiently, sit in shopping carts or strollers without getting bored and trying to make a break for it, and are excited to be at the gym daycare for an hour (holding that poop and laughing and playing like an angel while mommy sweats like a pig). Said child also stays angelic long enough for mommy to take a shower so she doesn't have to squeeze one in the middle of the night. Sometimes, I even think that washing the sheets the next day is less exhausting than taking a midnight shower...I know, gross.
Let's just say that was a long way of saying, my homemaker life is not perfect and it's the hardest job I ever have. I'm one of the SAHMs (stay at home moms, commonly used acronym) that would take a job in a heartbeat if the right job with the right fit, fell into my lap. I love working, and I feel that I equal Rodney's passion when it comes to my thing, which is bugs and helping humans with their problems. I want to feel useful. I want to be important. I could and did live as a minimalist, and I wasn't truly spoiled until I met and married Rodney. I'm one of those people who believe you should enjoy what you do for your career, as long as you're not paying to work (like I was there at the end of my employment with Orkin).
My day starts at 6am and Rodney's alarm goes off at this time. If Taia is not up, I let her sleep and I have quiet time for a little while, or at least until she hears the garage door open when Rodney leaves for work. Rodney takes a shower, eats breakfast and drinks coffee while watching the news. If Taia is up, I change and nurse her and then put her in the Jumperoo for her morning hour jumping session (yes, she's nuts. It's like a much more fun version of a treadmill). I pour myself coffee at catch some of the news.
Rodney leaves for work around 7am. By this time I have a To Do list ready to conquer that is ambitious and unrealistic. I vacuum the main floor everyday because Milo is like a daily hair bomb, and now that Taia is crawling, she's like a human lint brush. It's disgusting. I also do some sort of laundry, clean at least one of the three bathrooms, pick up poop from the backyard, and prepare breakfast for the two of us. Basically the rest of the day revolves around preparing for the next event (feeding, running, going to the gym, errands, bath, etc.), napping or trying to nap her, feeding her or watching her scream with food flying everywhere, and recovering from the last event (cleaning up, unpacking, unloading, changing, regrouping, etc.). Each day ends with a meal, a bath, licking a few books, a boob or two, a pacifier, blanket and lights out Taia (finally). It is a crazy, exhausting, eventful, yet also very uneventful day.
Somedays, like Wednesdays, Denny and Lil will take her so I can go to the track and do speedwork with the Run Club, but most days, it's just Taia and I from dawn until dusk. Most days Rodney never sees her. Most days, I cannot get away from her. If you ask Rodney when he'll be home from work, his response is either "late" or "a reasonable hour". To tell you the truth, I'm not sure what the difference is, maybe an hour (7pm or 8pm).
So on days like yesterday when Rodney doesn't come home from work and Jody's been hanging out in stinky workout clothes, yearning for a solo evening run...that is the making of a bad day. When I called him at 8:30pm to ask if he could babysit for me next Saturday (We'll get back to this topic one day), and he was out having drinks, I was pissed. I don't mind him staying late to work or socialize, but I really worry about him having his "few drinks" and then driving out to West Omaha when he's super tired. I told him that he should have probably called to tell me he wasn't coming home...(it sure is a good thing I didn't decide to cook dinner).
He walked in the door at 10pm and I immediately ran out the door. I didn't say a word to him. I had my Garmin, a cap with a flashing red light, a headlamp, and some fury to fuel my 5.5 mile run. I probably would have kept going except I was going for sanity and not endurance. It took me about 45 minutes to feel back to normal.
That could have cost me $100 in therapy and I would have had to wait weeks for an appointment.
No comments:
Post a Comment