I rushed from work yesterday, made the 40 minute commute to pick up B, and then dashed home so I could put some lovely pork chops in the oven for dinner. I'm not a great cook, but I have a recipe that's really good, so I wanted to make it. I knew P would be excited about some home cookin'.
I got a call from P at the time when he would normally be getting home. He hadn't left the office yet, and he's got a longer commute than I do. But he wasn't calling to tell me he was on his way home. No. He was calling to tell me he was going out with "the boys" for dinner and drinks and boyish whatnot. There were some bigwigs in from the airlines, and he'd been invited to join them for a night on the town. They've all been working very hard on a big top secret project (shhhhh!) and had completed a big portion of it, and wanted to celebrate.
I normally say "Great! Have a good time! I'll put dinner in the refrigerator and you can have it for lunch tomorrow!" And really mean it. Be happy he's going to have a nice evening. I am never bothered.
But for some reason last night I was irritated. When he told me he wouldn't be home until probably 9:00 pm or so, I said, "Oh. Okay. Guess I can put the dinner I rushed home and slaved over in the refrigerator. I hope it's still good when you feel like eating it." P, in his high-spirited mood and enthusiasm for the evening ahead of him, didn't miss a beat. He said, "Okay then! I'll see you later! Love you!"
When the timer on the oven went off, I took the chops out and wrapped them up. I didn't even eat mine. I was pissed off. I didn't know why! I couldn't figure out WHY I was feeling so slighted. P has every right in the world to meet up with work buddies. To go somewhere without me. To have a good time without me. It's not like he hasn't gone out after work before (though not often). And I swear -- I am NEVER bothered! Except for last night.
It got me thinking. What if some people from *my* office wanted to meet up after work, go out for dinner? Just hang out? I would not be able to join them. It would take some MAJOR scheduling negotiations in order for me to do something like that. Forget being spontaneous. P works a slightly different schedule than I do. He goes in later, and comes home later. I take B to daycare, and I pick her up. It's on my way. I've arranged my work and commuting schedule to minimize B's time in daycare as much as possible. If I were to do it any other way, she would spend way more time there than she does now. That is not acceptable to me. So I shoulder the responsibility for getting her to and from daycare, which means my schedule is not flexible. On the rare occasions I can't pick her up (like if I have a dental or doctor appointment), I have to make arrangements with P, who then has to make arrangements of his own to leave work early, so B's not stuck in daycare for 12 hours.
So I'm thinking about all this, and I'm getting madder and madder. Really, it's no big deal that P wasn't home to help occupy B while I finished making dinner. That he was out having a good time while I was giving her a bath, brushing her teeth, putting her jammies on her. Just because this is an evening ritual that I TREASURE, and he wasn't there for it (and B missed him, I could tell), just because he misses one evening, it's not the end of the world. I know all this. I never said I was feeling rational last night.
So 9 pm rolls around and he wasn't home yet. In fact, he didn't get home until 9:45 pm. So what. 45 minutes of thinking he was laying in a ditch somewhere. I can handle it. Anyway, he rolls in at 9:45 and I'm sitting out on the deck. As soon as he comes out there, I can see by the look on his face that he had a great time. He went on and on about the restaurant, the guys, the weather, the comraderie, the work, everything. He very clearly enjoyed himself. Damn if his enthusiasm wasn't infectious. I found myself asking questions about the evening and actually enjoying his exuberant responses.
And then. Then. He said the thing that had me feeling totally STUPID and guilty for ever being irritated with him. He said he was so proud to be able to say to his friends that his wife was perfectly fine with him going out for the evening, and hoped he had a good time. He said all the other guys were jealous - they're wives give them such a hard time whenever they want to do something on their own. He bragged about me. He bragged about our relationship. He loves our relationship so much he brags about it to his friends. I felt like a heel.
I wasn't mad at him when I went to bed. In fact, I felt very loved and contented (though a bit sheepish).
I love that man. Only he can turn my foul mood into a happy one with just the inflection of his voice. When just hearing him describe his good day melts my heart (stone cold as it may be at that moment), I gotta believe it's Real. As Real as it gets.
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