Suddenly *Not So* Single Journey

Love means never struggling alone…

Author: thenicknick

It was Thursday night.  I had such high hopes for the evening.  We had been so productive all day at our respective jobs, and already that evening working the business together.  Rachel had stayed after for a concert and Keenan was his normal quiet self.

Only I was starting to discover that my kids were really kids in some respects.  I was finding that they needed a little more supervision than I thought.  I came back in the house after visiting with the neighbors before dinner only to see Keenan lounging on the sofa.  My first thought was…A Keenan Sighting!  He does exist! And my second…

me: Did you do your chores?

Keenan: Yup.

We all know that lingo, as parents.  For those of you who don’t, allow me to translate.  What he really said was, “Maybe.  I’ve done all I plan to do, unless you are going to check behind me and push the issue.  Now leave me alone so I can get back to the television.”  You had no idea that one word could mean so much, huh?

me: Okay.  So you did the cobweb removal?  You scooped the poop in the yard?

And he was up off the couch, spluttering and went straight to work.  Score!

me: And HE will be checking later to make sure that you did a good job.

Great.  Now I just had to go tell HIM that.

So, I ran out to get the kitten bottle and formula, since the runt isn’t doing well.  And I decided to pick up dinner, since I was too tired to cook.  There’s no way to feed three people more cheaply than Taco Bell.  I swear.

I paused on the way out to take HIS order and catch him up.

me: How many tacos?  And I told Keenan you were going to check behind him on the poop scooping.  He’s getting lazy.

HE smiled.

HIM: No problem.

Dinner was good, but late.  It was starting to get dark.  And we were distracted by the prospect of bottle feeding a kitten.  I went to prepare formula and asked him to make a hole in the nipple.  For some reason, they don’t come ready to use.

Well, the formula was mixed and poured into a teeny tiny bottle.  (And I thought Keenan’s preemie bottles were small.)  And I was waiting.  And waiting.  And…finally I went out to the garage to see what was taking so long.

HE was drilling a hole in it.  Of course.

HIM: The razor wasn’t working.

If it’s possible, watching him prepare a nipple for a kitten bottle made me love him even more.  Then he went in the house with me and first watched, then helped me feed the runt.  We’re encouraged.  So encouraged that the Little One, that’s what I’m calling it since runt seemed ugly, ate a few more times that night.

Well, that accomplished, he went out to hang out and I did some work on the computer.  Soon, I heard yelling outside and Rachel bounded into the house with Bishop.  She rushed to the fridge with excuses of not being hungry when she was out with her friends and plopped on the couch to eat and talk to me.  Seconds later, HE walked in, clearly upset.  He was wringing his hands and everything.

HIM: Rachel, you can’t speak to me that way.  You can’t tell me to shut up.  And you did it in front of the entire neighborhood.

Let me tell you how that went over.  There was some eye rolling, which made me want to do some head rolling.  Instead, I sent her to her room to get HIS side of the story.  Then we went to confront Rachel.  Yes, we.  We spoke to her together.  Moments later, I spoke to her alone.

me: You were out of line and you know it.  I’m really disappointed in you.  You know better than to be disrespectful like that to ANY adult, but especially HIM.  Look at all we do for you.  You humilated him publicly, you will apologize publicly.  Show you are the person I thought you were, the person I raised you to be.

And I went outside to hang out, vent, and wait.  And wait.  And wait.

She had made it as far as our garage.  She stood staring across the road at us.  That’s when HE gave her an out.  He went to the garage to talk to her, give her a chance to apologize and save her pride.  Yeah.  That didn’t work.

Soon she was in the house and he was back talking across the road at Ed and Laura’s.  The four of us compared parenting techniques.  And argued.  And HE was a little unnerved.  We talked more alone.  HE was realizing he was going to be taking on more of a parenting role, being a step-dad.  He doubted his abilities.

HIM: What I’m used to is the situation where the mother handles everything and goes to the dad when it doesn’t work.

me: Ah, the old…don’t make me get your father?

HIM: Right.

me: What I’m used to is pretty much handling everything.  The ex wasn’t home and usually wasn’t available for back up.

In the end, it seems we have opted for a middle ground, same as always.  We went to shut down the house.  And then we worked on our plan for the next day.

HIM: I’m sorry I didn’t check after Keenan.  I’ll do it tomorrow.  I have the ground paint ready.

me: Huh?

HIM: I’m going to circle all the poo piles in paint.

me: Awesome.  Is it orange?

HIM: White.

me: That’ll work.

It does work.  We work together.  When a new issue arose, I spoke to him about it immediately.  I thought I was just venting.  His response?

HIM: Okay.  So, I’ll have her do her chores, then send her to her room until you get home.  Then we’ll talk to her together.

Huh.  A ‘we’ and a ‘together’ all in the same sentence.  I’m struggling right now, trying to be the best mom possible, but at least I’m not doing it alone.   I picked the best partner to share my life with.  Damn, I love this man.

This entry was posted on Saturday, May 22nd, 2010 at 7:54 am and is filed under Parenting, relationships. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.