I could count on it. Husband #2 and I would fight for the week before my semi-annual women’s retreat. Twice a year for two years. it was inevitable. Now I can confidently look back and say, “the fight we’re having is not the fight we we’re having.”
Here’s what would happen…
The woman’s retreat was over a weekend. I’d leave on Friday afternoon and return on Sunday afternoon around lunch time. From my vantage point, it seemed that Husband #2 would schedule either a Sunday afternoon client meeting or maybe even a whole weekend away visiting his family. Our fight would be around the timing on Sunday.
I’d feel inconvenienced and kick up a fuss. He’d feel unjustly accused and lash back. It all seemed trivial on the surface.
I didn’t care if he went away or even if he had business appointments. What I really wanted was for him to be there, at home, when I returned around lunch time. What I really wanted was some sort of acknowledgement that my absence was noticed. That I was, dare I say it, missed.
I couldn’t articulate my wish at the time.
I just wanted him to greet me, kiss me, tell me he missed me, and offer to help bring in my bags. Just 30 minutes of “you were gone and now you’re back and I’m happy you’re home” time to prove to me that my disappearance had some little sort of impact on your day.
That’s all I wanted.
From Husband #2’s vantage point, I’m imagining he felt controlled…that I was limiting his freedom…
Yesterday I came home tired and a bit messy from not showering. The house was empty. The kids were off with Husband #1. My greeting was the same as it’s been the last 4 times I returned home… Silence.
The only ones that missed me were the dried out potted plants.