Respect. It’s a big thing. Aretha Franklin would agree with me on that.
This was a week were I didn’t feel like I was getting any. It started off with the CRD, Aggressive Excavating and the rail trail (a wonderful story there involving five months of my driveway being blocked by trucks, the Commissionaire, and a giant concrete block in my driveway, plus several episodes of being yelled and sworn at). Since I’ve already endured several months being asked if I’m enjoying my time “off” (taking care of a baby is like being on holidays after all) and it is the that wonderful time of the month for me, I was feeling a little less than appreciated and certainly in need of my hubby showing me a little TLC; a little support; a little respect.
On Friday hubby went in to work some OT as we both agreed the money made it worth doing. We had my sister coming over that night and so dinner needed to get finished, the house tidied, the laundry finished so the bedding could go back on the bed, that sort of thing. Some of this is impossible to do with a little guy attached to you and my shoulder was really sore this week to the point that a chiropractic adjustment and a one hour massage only made a dent in the pain on Friday morning. Also, since I’d had an appointment that morning for my shoulder, I was working with one nap to accomplish everything, not the usual two.
Hubby calls me at 4pm to say he’s heading home, do I need anything. “Nope,” I say, “Just your help”. He assures me he’s heading home right then and will see me in half an hour. When it is almost an hour before he arrives home and I’m now attempting to sweep the floor with a clingy almost twenty pound baby in my arms, I’m a little upset. Of course, I’m waiting for a good reason, like he made a stop to get me flowers for my tough week, or the bridge was up and he couldn’t get across or…. Something…. Nope. He got side tracked talking to a friend for twenty minutes after he said he was on his way.
I know: he has a right to talk to people. I’m not saying he doesn’t. He has a right to friends, I’m not disagreeing. But listen, if your wife has a bad week, if she needs your support, if you have people coming over and if you say you are on your way home, get your butt home boys. Show your lady a little respect when she feels the rest of the world has been dumping on her.
He is still oblivious to why I’m so upset and thinks I’m overreacting for being upset about a mere twenty minutes. Perhaps I am. Or perhaps it has to do with a man’s ability to forget things from earlier in the week and he doesn’t see why it’s a compounding thing, why I needed him to come help me, to show me enough respect to follow through on what he said he was doing.
Perhaps like most mothers (or maybe most women) I should just be resigning myself to the fact that I will never be fully appreciated and I won’t be getting the respect I think I deserve anytime soon.
How about you? When was the last time you felt like someone should have shown you a little more respect than th
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