Oh, good lord. I just finished writing about Me First’s stick, but now I seem to need a stick of my own! Maybe someone can whack some sense into my husband.
Usually, we do a Thanksgiving weekend with his family sometime in November. It’s always a fucking disaster. I have to leave MIL in charge of the turkey, since neither my freezer nor my oven can take on a fat bird like that. She never starts defrosting it soon enough. Then they never listen to me about what time to put it in the oven, so it is never done at dinner time.
Meanwhile, I am running around making everything else. Last year, HRH insisted everything be done from scratch. He said he would do the stuffing. Maybe he hypnotized me or something, I don’t know. But I believed him (strangely enough his pants were not on fire.) Of course he is incapable of completing any part of this process without my advice and instruction, and eventually he wandered off to watch TV.
The pumpkin pie broke my blender, which has yet to be replaced. And it’s not like the poor blender had done anything to that mean pumpkin.
When the meal was finally ready, a good hour behind schedule, as he always does, FIL poured soy sauce all over the turkey.
Eff this, man.
So, this year when no one mentioned Thanksgiving, I just let it slide. POS BIL was gone last weekend; this upcoming weekend is a scheduling nightmare when we all have to simultaneously be at two different places at the same time on both days. We’ll all be turkeys, I guess, but no time to prepare one that is edible. The next weekend, HRH has to work. The week after that is too far in the future for me to prepare for, and I can only envision flying cars and weird hoola hooped collared dresses when I think of it.
So. The kids and I are going to the Thanksgiving thing tomorrow. They will skip school. I have spoken.
But I hadn’t spoken to HRH. I am not in the habit of consulting him when I make decisions, because he is hardly ever here, doesn’t have all the information, and rarely seems interested.
So when he told me he was leaving a bit late tomorrow, I said that was nice and I could sleep in a bit since the kids weren’t going to school for Thanksgiving.
And he responds with that if it were so important that they needed to stay home from school, then I should have said something, and he would have taken the day off.
And still, for some reason, his trousers are not aflame.
Thanksgiving has happened, without him noticing, every damn year for all of the eleven years we have been married. Our anniversary is on that day, done specifically because I know he is allowed to have that day off, but he never bothers to take it.
I just said something like I had only decided to do that when I realized they wouldn’t have a Thanksgiving at all otherwise.
And he responded with, “I guess you don’t need me.”
Damn straight, you fool.
When we were newleyweds, and I didn’t speak Japanese very well, I needed you. You told me to do it myself.
I needed you when I was in labor with Me First, but you left halfway through and went to work. That you made it back when he was born is only because it took close to three days and he finally showed up on Saturday.
When I had the flu when he was four weeks old, I needed you. But you were on a business trip.
When I injured my neck a few months later, I needed you. I can’t remember where you were, but you weren’t there.
I needed you when I was in labor with Me Too, but you wouldn’t come.
When my dad was dying? I needed you. After he died? I needed you to cut me some slack.
I needed you when the earthquake happened, but you weren’t here. Then when you came back, you were a jerk. Then you sent us off to Kyushu.
So don’t get hurt when I don’t seem to need you now. I wasn’t independent by nature. My parents used to wring their hands wondering what would become of me.
But, yeah. I don’t need anyone now.
When you continually and consistently make choices that value your work first, your parents first, your comfort first, at times when I really needed you- or someone- or anyone, then I can’t help but laugh when you are surprised to see that I don’t plan things around you or feel a sense of loss when you cannot come. You’re not coming is the default mode. If you can come, it’s a plus, but lack of your being there is not gonna rain out the picnic. I have to live my life, to find some joy, to make my own enjoyment and take pleasure in my family of friends when I can because you do not meet that need for me. You don’t even try.
Maybe he’ll be a sulky baby-man in the morning. If he takes the day off and expects me to spend the whole day in the kitchen, I’ll be pissed.
But yeah, choices have consequences and if he doesn’t like the independent bitch I am today, he’s got no one but himself to blame.
Well, that was a fun post! Hope I haven’t ruined your romantic evening.