Would I have still married my husband?
There are some days where that is a legitimate question.
Take yesterday for example. My husband is fascinated by people, AND, he has ADD. Now in some situations, that combination is just fine and wonderful. Yeah, but not when it comes to my bathroom!
Hubby wakes early, around 6:30 a.m., to get ready for work. Sometimes, I get up that early too, just to have a little more “awake-time” with him. But, most mornings, I stay bed. That is the one perk I get for leaving the teaching field (where I awoke at 4:30 A.M every morning). I do not apologize for my enjoyment of sleeping in.
On the mornings when I sleep in, Hubby fluctuates between boredom and distraction. He needs structure and routine; without it, he can easily get sucked into the television, watching “Backyardigans,” the Weather Channel, or whatever happens to be on TV. Suddenly, he’ll look up and realize he has only a few minutes left to eat, shower, shave, get dressed, and leave. Panicking, he rushes into our room, clattering and clashing everything that can be clattered and clashed. (This is the point where I pull the comforter over my face and turn from the light. Remember — I’m not ashamed.) Then, he’s out the door and I go back to the last few precious minutes I have before The Little Lady wakes up and my day really begins.
Back to yesterday. I guess Hubby had decided to skip TV in an effort to stay on schedule. Good for him; I’m so proud. I don’t know how long he went about the house — TV off, no noise, no cartoon characters singing or Houston weather forecasters cheesily saying “Helloooo, Dolly.” At some point, he finished breakfast and came upstairs. And, the boredom struck.
I don’t know how one gets bored using the bathroom, but, apparently, my husband can. When Hubby gets bored in the bathroom, he likes to raise the blinds of the window (which is a 4-foot tall window RIGHT by the toilet) and “people watch.” I know — I don’t get it either. Normally, he is a polite husband and lowers the blinds when finished, out of respect for me. Yesterday, that didn’t happen.
Fast-foward to around 8:30 p.m. that same day. Because The Little Lady and I are downstairs for the majority of our day, I’ve not had a chance to venture into our master-bath. But, it’s night time and I’m upstairs having just put The Little Lady to bed. The Little Lady is in a “stage” right now; she likes to be rocked and rocked and rocked and rocked before she decides she can go to bed. So, last night I rocked and rocked and rocked. . . you get the picture. Well, maybe you don’t. I rocked and rocked after consuming several gallons of sweet tea at dinner. Imagine rocking after that!
She finally allows me to put her in bed (“thank you, your Highness”) and I rush to the master-bath. Oh, the horror! Oh, the insanity! Oh, the tackiness! The window blinds are up.
No problem, right? I rush over and pull the cord. The blinds go up. A slight lump of panic moves into my throat. I shift weight from one leg to the other and attempt to lower the blinds again. No luck; those off-white, stubborn slats of plastic are jeering at me from the top of the window frame. The lump in my throat becomes larger. I suppress the angry, scared scream that is knocking at the back of my vocal cords. I have other physiological reactions taking over. “The Dance” has begun. What? Oh, I danced the dance! You know which one I’m talking about. (I’m not ashamed — it was an emergency!)
I look out the window and see the world below welcoming the darkness that has arrived. Great — now I really stand out, up here in the obnoxious, incandescent glow beaming out of the naked window. All because my husband was bored that morning.
Eventually, whether through skill, desperation, or anger, I managed to bring the blinds down. The crisis was over. I went downstairs to find the perpetrator of this entire fiasco. His crisis was just begining.
