Irritated and Borderline Pissed

I sometimes feel like a crazy person when I get these feelings. Are they real? Am I just jumping too conclusions? Does anyone else act or feel like this? For the past couple of nights when hubby's called, it's been all about him. "This is what happened, this is what I ate, this is where I went". Terrific! I do want to know about all of these things, of course. Then, he talks to the babe and asks her about her day, what she did at school, what she's currently doing and what she plans to do. The phone is handed back to me and it's, "Well, this is going on..." or "I'm getting ready to go..." or "I gotta charge my phone, so I'll call you later." Can't I tell you about my day? The crappy traffic I had to endure, the jerk who cut me off on the interstate, the funny thing my coworker said? It's as if he's so self-absorbed into his world there in Nashville that he doesn't care what's going on here.

He's back today and there were things I wanted to get done before now, but you know, life happens. I would have had the lawn mowed and I actually tried to do it (I even picked up the dog droppings...ugh!) but the grass was too saturated with rain from earlier this week, the wet grass clogged up the mower and then the mower shut off. That was the end of my lawn-mowing moment. I have yet to put up the shade, but may try to do it this morning. I kind of think it's not a "twenty minutes and it's done" project.

His car needs gas. It's newer than mine and has a bigger engine. I have no idea what brand of gas he uses. Low grade? Mid? Supreme? I can't afford his gas but, I was going to be nice and fill up his car anyway. I was going to ask during our phone calls, just as I was going to tell him about the mower and the ask him what he suggested I do about it but, he never got around to seeing about life at home from my perspective. Granted, I feel bad that his crappy Ford Focus rental (pictured here) got a flat tire and the rental guy was an ass when he came out to see about the car but, he's not the only one with drama. It's different drama, but drama nonetheless.

He called last night from a live jazz club, talking about, "I forgot about how much culture there is here." Well, there is a bit of culture here, too. In fact, there are live music clubs all over the place and we never go. I've threatened to go on my own, since he seems to have no desire to take me. I tried to tell him this, but then the noise in the club crescendoed and he swore he couldn't hear what I was saying. Fine, whatever. Enjoy your live jazz with your boys and I'll be here with the kids, as always. Perhaps my irritation is coming from those feelings of being trapped in my life again. He seems to have so much more freedom and it's so unfair. I've excepted the plight as "the way of mothers" but I'm feeling more and more that this can't be it. I think I'm going to make good on my threats and go out more, leaving him with the kids. Perhaps then he can understand what it's like for me. Yeah, I'm probably dreaming.

I wish I was brave enough to pick him up from the airport tonight, take him home and say, "Okay. You had your escape, now it's my turn. The corn dogs are in the freezer and Indy's gums are tender, so give her some Children's Motrin before you put her to bed. I'm out."