It’s been one of those difficult days, it’s been hot, I’ve had to schlep for an hour or so in the sun with two tired stroppy kids, one of which I had to carry for most of the time.
This morning was a hour and a half with a social worker, discussing my parenting skills and making pointed remarks that didn’t help. Then I get home to discover a couple of letters from Great Ormond Street Hospital (think Cedar Sinai but for Children) about my eldest daughters treatment (which is actually going really well). Thankfully these arrived early enough for us to be able to go. Last weeks appointment letters arrived three hours after we were supposed to be there and were at the same time at DD1 chemo treatment at Whipps. Sometimes you think the NHS’ arse and elbow aren’t on the same body.
So it’s been a hectic day, DW crashed in this evening ten minutes after I got home with the kids and while I was cooking supper. The heat, the schlep and the tired stroppiness of the kids, caused me to verbally lash out. The slow boil of resentment finally boiled over and I had a right go at her.
This is classic stay at home mum’s resentment, I quit my job to support her career and the children and J just don’t want to hear shit that she has to protect her job. Yup I’m well aware that we’ve gone from double income to single income, I just don’t need my nose rubbed in it.
At this moment she’s having a fight with the girls over bed time. DD1 is screaming for me, so DD1’s tablet got smashed. So now I get involved, inwardly I’m fucking furious at the kak-handed, fucked up way of dealing with it. I send DW out of the girls bedroom, I speak quietly to the girls and try to placate and mollify. I explain what we could dp and how much it would cost, the girls calm down.
DW is having a sulk downstairs, she’s thinking of leaving, in some respects it’s not a bad idea, living with an alcoholic is difficult, a lot of our arguments wouldn’t happen is she could just quit the drinking totally or seek some help. Mostly she needs to recognise that the damage has been done in the family and that pretending she’s not drinking is not the same as actually not drinking.
So now things are quiet, she’s in a slightly drunken stupor, the girls are now calm.
There are a number of choices here.
I walk out on all of them and find my own path.
I leave with the children.
Or do nothing until this shit erupts again like last year when I punched her and I do something stupid again. First, the children need protecting, but from which one of us Mr. Angry or Mrs. Alky.