Well it seems as though everyone at home is finally on the mend! Flip and Skip headed back to school yesterday, the husband-on-crutches also went back to work, and I finally got some time to BEGIN to catch up on all my pursuits that have been totally neglected lately.
So, what was the hardest part of this post-knee-surgery time?
No. It wasn’t the fact that I had to to absolutely everything for absolutely everybody.
No. It wasn’t that I had NO time to myself at all, because even with the kids occupied (before they got sick) having the husband home 24/7 meant that every 5 minutes, he would ask “Where are you? What are you doing now?” Nope. Not that.
No. It wasn’t that everyone (including me) came down with some strange viral malady which turned us all into a mucous producing freak show.
It was, in short…
THE BACK SEAT DRIVING.
And…it continues.
Yes, we’re still having to drive 45km clear across town three times a week for physiotherapy.
Yes of course we have physiotherapists nearby.
In fact we have TWO within WALKING distance from our house. But of course, the husband has to have highly specialized physiotherapy, (done by a machine I might add, with no human intervention) which can only be done 45km clear across town.
The absolute pain of it all, is that my husband CANNOT contain himself for 5 minutes when I’m in the drivers seat.
Let me tell you something folks. I am a good driver. I am not your typical chick…lipstick applying…ipod shuffling…cell-phone talking bimbo.
I concentrate.
I use my signal indicators correctly.
I follow the rules of the road.
I keep left, and pass right. (Remember we drive on the OTHER side of the road over here).
My husbands constant barrage of instructions of what to do every 5 seconds are, in short, DRIVING ME TO INSANITY.
CHANGE LANES.
WHERE ARE YOU GOING?
WHAT ARE YOU DOING?
Then there’s the constant MESSING WITH MY RADIO.
FIDDLING WITH THE GRAPHIC EQUALIZER. THE BALANCE. THE FADE.
MESSING WITH MY RADIO STATIONS.
SKIPPING ON THE CD.
THE READJUSTMENT OF MY AIR CONDITIONING/THE FAN/THE AIR VENTS DIRECTIONAL FLOW.
The other day. I actually cracked.
I had become so accustomed to his CONSTANT BLOODY BUTTING IN that I was in a complete daze, and missed the turn to his work (not a trainsmash, because I could simply take the next one less than 50m further, and double back, making it in fact easier to turn into his buildings security area).
MY GOD. The flailing of hands, the quick-tempered ‘WHAT ARE YOU DOING!? WHAT ARE YOU DOING!!? TURN TURN TURN TURN!!!’.
For a split second I didn’t realise why he was flipping out, and actually thought that from the panic and urgency in his voice that there MUST have been a giant truck bearing down on us.
My life actually began to flash before my eyes, until I realise that what he really was trying to say, was, “Sweet heart, you missed the turn to my work, but it’s okay, because I can see you’re completely exhausted from waiting on all of us hand and foot, and I’ve really been no help at all. But if you wouldn’t mind, please take the next turn, and then I’ll get to work. So I’m sorry, but it’s all okay.”
Yeah. That’s what he was *really* trying to say.
What happened shortly after his outburst is that I just burst out crying. I really had thought that from the urgency in his voice that we were ALL ABOUT TO DIE.
Then I got mad.
Really, really mad.
THAT’s IT!!!! I yelled.
NO MORE! FROM NOW ON YOU SIT THERE SILENTLY. YOU DON’T TOUCH ANYTHING IN MY CAR AND YOU REMEMBER THAT YOU COULD NOT HAVE DONE ANY OF THIS WITHOUT ME AND YOU WILL BE $%#KING GRATEFUL!!!
I think I must have gone on for about 5 minutes about how he was the most insensitive wart that ever attached itself to the sole of anyones foot. I was *really, really pissed*.
So. Today we head out again, and I’ll be interested to see if my outburst has had any effect at all. While I’m hopeful. I seriously doubt it.
This is getting old. Really Fast. Plus I know there’s no way that I’m going to score a 24″ iMac in gratitude from him either. Because that would have made it all okay.
You see? There again, is where women and men differ. I mean I actually think about his feelings all the time, and like to think of suitable manly gifts like industrial hand wheels and other things found at hardware stores where women fear to tread. I mean after both of my pregnancies and subsequent c-sections, I actually thanked him with a small gift for all the driving around of me that he did to doctors appointments and what not afterwards. Did I get so much as a bunch of flowers for the actual bearing of his children?
I’d better stop now. I’m starting to sound bitter.
p.s. I do love the guy. He isn’t always like this. He must be so frustrated to not be able to get around on his own. I would be too.
pp.s See? Just did it again. Saw it from his perspective? Sometimes I’m just too much of a chick. (except when I’m driving).
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So my Dad’s birthday is on Monday. He’s turning 80. You may remember my last post on this subject, well, it’s just gotten a little more complicated.
My half brother Brian*, (my dads eldest son – from his first marriage) was going to be making a trip out from Australia in order to spend the day with my dad, given that it was his 80th birthday and all. The fact that he was making the trip, made it easier for me, and my decision to NOT attend the ‘birthday event’, but to rather arrange to see my dad earlier, because my dad would be so happy to see him, that he probably wouldn’t even notice I was there.
This way I would avoid all the unpleasantness with my eldest half-sister Mary* who’s never had a nice word to say to me as long as I’ve existed, and also my own full brother Patrick* who is a complete sh*t beyond belief and to whom I no longer speak at all for a number of reasons.
Oh by the way the little * I’ve been typing is to indicate that I’ve changed their names.
Anyhoo, here’s the small complication.
Brian is no longer coming.
He’s just recently started his own business (after leaving a very successful career) at the age of 55, in order to not have to travel so much. He emailed us all about a week ago, to say he wouldn’t be coming after all, because he had to really watch his finances so early on in the new business venture, and that he would rather come out later this year when things were more stable.
I totally get his reason for not coming, he’s a great guy, and is making the right decision for himself, and his family. He’s practically Qantas’ most frequent flyer * ever * so I understand his reasons for wanting to be home with his family more.
My other half sister Pauline* also lives in Australia, and won’t be coming either, because she’s the major breadwinner in her family, has 7 yr old twins and can’t just pick up and take off on a whim. Fair enough.
However, there’s of course more pressure on the rest of us to attend. Ugh you can’t pick your family!!
But I * so * don’t want to. Call me crazy, or selfish or whatever but * I do not want to go because I will hate every minute of being there. *
My dad called yesterday to see if I was coming (I’d put off telling him I wasn’t, since the Brian development and I was trying to think up a good excuse that wouldn’t hurt his feelings), so I broke it to him that I probably couldn’t go because hubby’s sister (my SIL) was ‘leaving for England’. I didn’t mention that they’re in fact only leaving in 3 weeks time, and I made it sound like they were leaving on SUNDAY. I asked if it would be at all possible if I could pop round on Saturday instead.
He says to me, “Oh, but I’m turning 80 and I really want everyone there.” (um hello everyone is NOT going to be there whether I’m there or not)
Me, “Well I’m sorry but hubby’ sister is leaving for good and we have to see them off.”
Him, “Um, well I suppose seeing you on Saturday is okay.” (After turning to his heinous 3rd wife to ask her if it was okay!!!! F@#K!!!!!)
Me, “Besides your actual birthday is Monday, not Sunday so what difference does it make if I’m there Saturday or Sunday?”
Him, “Oh well I suppose so.”
WTF??
Hello dad – surely you should be happy that I want to see you at all?
I see him about twice a year even though he lives relatively close, so call me a nutcase but *surely* he should be happy to see me (his grandkids) whenever – and not just when it suits him? I know him well enough already and all he wants to do, is bustle off to his next Rotary lunch, and go and tell his cronies that ‘all his kids were there’ as if to pat himself on the back and make out like he was such a great dad and that we’re all so attached to him that we couldn’t bear the thought of *not* going to his birthday lunch.
I don’t give a rats ass if his 3rd wife (Charlotte*) has gone to a whole lot of trouble either, because when I see him is actually none of her business, it’s not like I’m young enough to call her my ‘stepmother’ or anything.
OMG. Charlotte totally just called me.
F*ck F*ck F*ckity F*ck.
I saw her come up on my caller ID and since I’m such a chicken (at least until I think out a strategy for dealing with her), I didn’t answer the call.
Bloody hell.
The message she left was to first of all tell me that a) she’s very disappointed that I’m not coming on sunday – said in a really annoyed voice (like I give a flying fa-hooey what she thinks), but that instead of coming on saturday, she’d rather ‘we all go out’ to a restaurant on Monday ‘all’ meaning her, my dad, me and the kids – to a restaurant that’s child friendly etc etc.
Now under ordinary circumstances that would sound like a reasonable proposal. However, I know her a little better than that. She is an extremely insecure manipulative bovine. Of course she’s decided that it’s not convenient for her, to allow me to see my own father, at a time that suits both me and him, and has decided (under a veil of fake pleasantry) to try and chuck a spanner in the works. To put things in perspective, they got married when I was already 27, and since I’m the youngest – was well out of the house and off with hubby, so it’s not as if we had to develop any sort of ‘relationship’ anyway. I know this sounds bitchy, but honestly, I see straight through her, and she’s taking my dad for every last penny that he’s got, and is trying desperately to retire on. (She’s 59 and stopped working when she married him – he’s 79 and still working to support her).
Well. I’m not that easily manipulated, thankfully.
I’m going to have my dad pop round here, on his own, after he finishes work on Saturday (at 13h00) for a cup of tea and a little chat. It’s a chance for him to see the kids, without her verbal diahorrea getting in the way. I might also just mention how much better he’d be off financially without her, and how he could easily retire and support himself well on his pension, and how far it would go without having to support two people…* if * I feel so inclined.
I decided around the time my parents divorced, that I would never again be ‘tied’ to someone whether family or not, that brought me down, annoyed me incessantly, or was ‘toxic’ to me or my family. It’s so incredibly liberating, knowing that I’ve given myself permission to do this. Afterall if someone doesn’t add some kind of value to your life (I’m talking emotional, not material) then WHY SHOULD you force yourself to see them, or spend time with them, just ‘because society dictates that you have to’.
Damned if I know.
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