For the past nine years my husband has had the task of getting himself and the kids fed, dressed, and out of the door on time and with minimal emotional and psychological scarring. I had it easy; I simply got ready and left for work while everybody else was still sleeping. I arrived home about ten minutes before the bus came and in those ten minutes I cursed my husband from one side of the earth to the other.
I would walk in the house after work and it looked like a group of Somalian rebels had broken in and raided the house. Pajamas would be strewn among the living room, couch cushions off the couch, cereal bowls still on the table. One afternoon I walked into the kitchen and an entire box of Frosted Flakes had been dumped on the kitchen floor. I don’t know if the kids huddled together and decided, “Hey, let’s really fuck with dad this morning! Dump the box! Dump it!” But I do know that I had to clean that shit up. Most afternoons I would turn in circles and flick off the walls, ceilings, and floors hoping it would mysteriously send my bird-flipping anger towards my husband’s office. I was undeniably pissed off from 3:30-3:40 every afternoon for the last nine years.
Well. This year his job has required travel four days a week. So now what I like to call the morning shitstorm, is all on me.
I understand now, why there were about 46 pounds of crumbs on the counter. Toast and waffles make an unexplainable amount of crumbs, all which can be cleaned up later when I’m not running late for work. I get the pajamas everywhere. When I’m running in circles yelling, “Get your clothes on! WE HAVE TO LEAVE!!” there is no running the discarded pajamas to the hamper–we have to LEAVE! I totally get the bread, peanut butter, and jelly all smeared onto the countertops. When I have 7.6 seconds to make lunches, cleaning up just ain’t happenin’.
So, husband, I am sorry for secretly giving you the finger after work everyday for nine years. I am sorry for mumbling about what a messy slob I married. I am sorry for underestimating the shitstorm that takes place between the hours of 5:30 and 6:30 AM, Monday-Friday. I am sorry that our children are unbelievably disorganized and messy. But I still love them. And I love you.