Thursday, June 28, 2012

I'm trying

I really am. 

WARNING:  Turn back now, this is my place to fuss.  If you don't want to hear it, move along, because I do not want to hear you tell me to suck it up.  I cannot be held responsible for your safety.

But my husband's work schedule is starting to get to me.  Not the traditional 24/48.  That I would love at this point.  But it is racing season.  Background.  My husband knew diddly-squat about the racing world until he met me.  He still doesn't know much. Me?  I was nearly born at the Milwaukee Mile - literally.  I have spent weekends at that racetrack for as long as I can remember. My wedding was planned around races at the Mile and Elkhart Lake. And yet, now, I am the one staying home with the kids.  Something seems off here.  My hubby wanted to work with my dad - who is the Asst. Safety Director for the Mile - probably from the second summer we were dating.  Mile policy - you must be a med or a FF.  Well, now he's both.  And spends every opportunity at the track he can.  Normal summer - annoyed, but ehh whateva.  This summer - yeah, that whole move thing kinda got on my nerves given that he's been gone 6 of the 7 days.  

And today, we're in the middle of a 48, because he is paying back a trade for a day off he needed for the Indy Race. <sigh>

Think I am kidding?  Here is my actual Cozi calendar for 6 weeks. 24 days he is either on shift or at the track.  Considering his shift days count as 3 normal sane person kind of work days - you can do the math.  Take a look at next week, same story.

I am trying not to remind him about how much he has been gone and trying really hard not to get grumpy.  But if you saw our basement and our garage, you would totally understand.  When I fussed at him about wanting to be settled and put roots down, his response was, "We have 30 years to do that."  Ummm, yeah, it is gonna take me that freakin' long to be able to park my car in the garage.

I have asked him to cut back, I have written him letters that I have thrown away because I feel guilty.  I do feel unheard and I don't often feel that way with my FF.  But right now, I feel like I am in this on my own - much like I did in the Academy and even to some degree during Med school.  This was supposed  to be the summer I got my husband back.

And it has brought out my passive-aggressive side.  His washed and neatly folded clothes are in a tub on his side of the bed, waiting to be put away.  His packed clothes are still in their boxes in the dining room.    Not proud and not even smart, because I still end up doing it in the long run.  But for the time being it helps me bite my tongue. The house we rented in Racine is totally empty, the walk-through with the realty company (DON'T get me started with that mess) is on Friday.  But, I have boxes coming out of my ears.  And J just brings them in the house and leaves them for me.  Mainly because the basement and garage are packed with stuff.  I am just so overwhelmed and feeling so alone in this.

So, now I start my day, getting the 4 kids up and moving this morning, after the melt down by 3 of the 4 last night.  To spend 3 hours driving them back and forth for their week of hiking with an amazing teacher, while continuing to unpack - alone. Trying really hard, not to be bitter.  Please wish me luck, I need it.

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