Monday, August 6

feeling shackled

Andrew is at work for the second time this long weekend. He is out doing what he does best - fixing other people's problems.

This morning, not too long after I herded Andrew and Sebastian out the door so I could clean up our post-weekend mess before packing up a book and my laptop to go enjoy the free wireless and adult company of the neighbourhood coffee shop, I got a call from Andrew. The Server he had spent most of Saturday night installing (it had to be during off-hours and took him from 10pm-5am) wasn't letting some people connect. That call came 6 hours ago, he took Sebastian to his office to see if they could solve the problem, while I knowingly and hastily cleaned the house and prepared things for Sebastian's nap. Sure enough, I got a call just after noon letting me know the problem was a big one and he would be bringing Sebastian home.

Andrew stayed just long enough to change his pants and endure my attempts at cordiality before heading back to put out the fire. I have very patiently waited, expecting some kind of an unsolicited update but getting none - I have called twice only to find out both times that the end is either nowhere in sight or very near. I have mentally changed my plans repeatedly, after the opportunity to spend a couple hours immersed in whatever mood music the young baristas had chosen was taken from me, I contemplated an early movie, then a later movie (we have a gift certificate) - I even came about this close to calling up friends to join me. Now I know there will be no movie, no break, no escape. Sure I have time to write or read disturbing articles about plastics, but none of those things are me leaving the house without a child present.


It is now 7:30pm.

I came to terms with the fact that I would be flying solo tonight and have gone from being pissed to being mildly annoyed and thoroughly disappointed.

Sebastian is watching an episode of the Backyardigans and as soon as that is finished we'll hop in the bath. I am trying to mellow out in order to increase my chances of putting the babe to sleep on my own. I don't usually (ever) do bedtime, though I have over the last months, become pretty good at naptime. I think the basic concept is similar.

Andrew is now on a very expensive call with Apple to troubleshoot the server problem. As far as I know he still has no idea when he'll be home. Part of me is annoyed because he, even with the over-time he is making, is not paid enough to be so thoroughly at his company's beck and call - and part of me is sad because he is doing what he loves, something that makes him feel vital and important and special, while in the company of other adults. A few harsh words and strained smiles are all the adult contact I had today.

Now I'm off to forget my troubles in a warm bath with my beautiful boy.

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