So this is why I was feeling guilty

Read the little blurby post I just wrote about guilt. It’s the resolve I needed for today’s cloudy spirit – an explanation of which I am just now diving into…

GUILT.

Kelsey, oh fabulous sitter provided by the heavens (and Craigslist circa 2007), is taking a few days on Cape Cod with her boyfriend and his family. I’m sure they are sequestered in separate bedrooms come nighttime, but having fun frolicking on the beach during the day. (Hmm, I’m not sure I should even imagine what happens when they AREN’T sequestered in separate rooms. I mean, she cares for my innocent children and all. (Wait a minute, so do I!)). No babysitter and my new full-time work gig mean that Dan’s on his own with the kidlets. I’ve been sitting back and watching his patience grow thinner and thinner lately. We all suffer when someone’s on a short fuse in the house – whether it’s Mad Max (2) or Daddy Dan (35). I’m not excluding myself from the list, just to be clear.

This week it’s been Dan. There’s some stress surrounding work, decisions, money, time management and, in my very wifely opinion, NOT ENOUGH SLEEP. Mr. Jamis, nearly 7 years old, tends to push Dan’s small patience meter the most (I was going to say short temper, but that’s not really accurate, as it implies lots of shouting or something). I try my best to sit back, disengage, and move forward. Last night as I was closing up the dishwasher I casually said, “You have a hostile reply to everything that I say.” Because that’s how it’s been. I just wanted to inform him that the dog’s water bowl was disgusting – swollen kibble clouding up the water and starting to smell. Instead of “okay,” I got “I KNOW!,” with a little sneer and a lot of attitude. I could have responded with similar attitude, like a seventh grader – that was my first instinct and all – but I didn’t. Instead I said exactly what I had been thinking for the last few days. I knew it was honest. I knew I wasn’t being dramatic. The words had played out in my mind after every shitty comment he’d made in the house over the last 5 days or so. Since vacation. Since real life began again.

But back to the guilt. So I’m working. I’m guilty that I can’t be home. That I left the house yesterday just as Dan was diapering a 2 year old butt with THE LAST DIAPER in the house. I offered to run out and get them before work. Even though I was late. Even though in the whole history of our parenthood Dan has never been able to tell me just how many diapers were left even if he used the last one! Even though I have had to drag all three kids to the store for one small, but important thing, I felt guilty that he’d have to do it. Like I should have taken care of it IN ALL MY SPARE TIME the day before.

So today he calls me from the drugstore. “What size swim diapers are they?” Dammit! Diapers again? It’s 11:30 am and nearly lunchtime/naptime and he’s just getting to the store to get swim diapers so they can go to the spray park and splash around in the water. I’m guilty again. More diaper drama.

I’m not quite as grumpy about all this since talking (read Instant Messaging) with Jen. I’ve gotten a handle on my guilt for the day. However, tomorrow night I am headed to Brooklyn to scoop up my best friend, who’s bright idea it was to drag me into a triathlon in Philly. It’s not my first so I’m not really nervous, but I’ve only swam about 5 times in the last 2 years, and 3 of those workouts have been this week. I’m probably not going to drown, I’m surely going to finish the race, but I’m definitly not going to break any records. The GUILT part of this message is that I’m leaving the kids for another two days. Now, as I said, hashing this out with Jen has made me feel 100% better about the whole thing. In fact, I feel a little silly even posting this now. I feel silly that all of this riff-raff occupied my brain earlier today, distracting me from my work, preventing any smiles. However, as good as I feel right now I know that one text or call from Dan with one silly little question can bring the whole guilt thing back in a flash. And I know what’s coming too – a text that reads, “Dinner plans?”

And, uh, the answer is “No.”

Duh.

But none of it will bother me as much if I just remember to read that little blurb I found in an old post. A reinforcement of my reasons for blogging. An acknowledgement of the things I do for me. Writing this blog. Going away for a triathlon weekend. Taking time to do a me-thing, and letting everyone else in the house (grumpy or not) deal with everything else in the house.