Thursday, July 11, 2013

Venting just a little

So yesterday afternoon, around, oh say, 3pm, I get a phone call from my 9 year old, Bad Boy. The boys can't find their aunt Boo anywhere in the house. Now I know my children. They both sounded more than a little panicked...

Some history here. Back in the days when I was married, Douchebag and I had an arrangement: in the morning, he was responsible for getting both boys up and ready for daycare and I got Baby Girl ready for school. I would then drive the kids in and he would finish getting himself ready. Well, one morning, after we'd had one of our disagreements, he laid in the bed WAY too long, so I got up and took Baby Girl to the school bus, and returned to the house thinking the boys would be ready to go. As I pulled up, all the lights were off and his car was gone. So I turned around and went to work. Without going inside the house. That afternoon, I got a phone call from daycare enquiring as to where the boys were that day... I rushed home to find that he had left them there. All day. Lil Man was still in diapers, so you can imagine how nasty that was. They had cried, but somehow, after a while, just turned the TV on and waited for someone to come. Douchebag had set the alarm when he left, so naturally when Bad Boy had opened the garage door to look for one of us, the alarm sounded, but thankfully, the connection to the monitoring company wasn't working. Otherwise, I'm sure the police and CPS would have been called.... can you imagine the grief that would have caused? I hugged them tight that night! Ever since, they have had an inclination to always check where I am. Not their father, just me. Of course, he blamed me. He thought I had taken them with me. He never bothered to check their room or their beds. Now I had done this before - taken just Baby Girl if she was going to miss her bus and the boys still weren't ready, and then returned to get them, so his excuse was Bull****.

Anyway, yesterday, their fear was real. So I called our mum to see if she had heard from Boo that day. She claimed to be "Furious" when I told her what happened. Full of "I just can't believe she would do that, she must be somewhere. Did they check the closet?" Ugh! No mum, they didn't... (that was sarcasm. I walked them through each room while on the phone with them). I called my neighbour's cell phone. She had made friends with their twenty-something son's. No answer. I called the house and one of the son's picked up "Yeah, she's here talking to dad". Relief. And then anger. I informed my mum and of course, it was "Oh I knew she wouldn't have just left them. Now make sure you listen to her story. I'm sure there's an explanation..." blah blah blah. I called Baby Girl who was on the bus and just asked her to let me know that the boys were alright when she gets home and I headed to dinner with my girlfriend. On the way, I get another phone call from mi madre. This is getting annoying now. She spoke to my sister, who claims she told the boys where she was going and she didn't understand why they panicked. So now the fault is my son's, not the 22 year old who is not supposed to let them out of her sight.

I considered canceling dinner and going home, but then decided I was still too angry. It's a good thing I didn't. When I got home they had gone to the pool, so I thought I'd enjoy 10 minutes peace and a glass of wine. And then I walked through the door. Three bombs had hit my house. I poured the wine, went to my room and locked the door. And stayed there all night.

To say I'm livid is an understatement. It will be a while before I speak to my sister, or my mum. Yes. It's that bad.

No comments:

Post a Comment