…when he’s gone at night or on Saturdays and I’m left to pick up all the kids and run them places and get them supper and put them to bed.
I leave him almost once a month. For a couple of days at a time. With five kids (two who don’t sleep) and a very busy job and–bonus this time around–a basement remodel.
I’ve had the nerve the last two nights to wonder why he doesn’t sound ecstatic to talk to me when I call to “check in.” Which may be the strongest indictment of my intelligence there is.
Because I’m pretty sure I’d punch him through the phone if roles were reversed.