This past weekend was a Daddy Weekend at our house, meaning that my husband was home for one of the two weekends a month that we get to spend with him. Saturday, was an unmitigated disaster. Sunday, was a huge improvement, but the short time frame meant that to get anything done, we had to go without sleep last night and rush around like mad to get him back on the road in time. One of the better things that happened over the weekend was that I think I was finally able to impress upon our Daddy how important these weekends are to the children and me. I am hopeful that he has a better understanding of what we need from him when he is home. The path to enlightenment was a rocky one though.
Saturday morning started with me getting (or taking) the opportunity to sleep in. I was really wearing my best game face when I made it downstairs to find that Daddy had fed the children potato chips for breakfast. They weren't poison potato chips, so I knew that the kids would live to suffer through whole grain toast and fruit another day. What I couldn't let slide was the yelling from Daddy about how he had only been home for 10 hours, and the children were already making him crazy. I know that my husband blows up and then things blow over...but when he is already living 350 miles away from us, I think he should be a little extra careful not to give our kids reason to think that it is somehow their fault.
Then Saturday night, he had a little temper tantrum...something about how God must be punishing him because he is still changing diapers after 20 years. So, Sunday I implored my aforementioned 20 year old stepson to come hang out with the kids so Hubby and I could get out of the house and talk. It was a good day and a good talk. He is willing to try a little harder to keep his cool when he is home. He also suggested that I plan something for the weekends he is home, and he will get with the game and participate, and at least pretend to have fun.
Ideal situation? Not hardly. Perfect solution? Nope. Is it a start? I really hope so.
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