Triggered

     Petal loves Pickle ball. I'm pretty sure he would play every day if was available and I would let him. The thing about loving Pickle ball is... you cannot take the smalls to it. Maybe if it were just casual playing. But this is a league. He pays to play. And you cannot spend two hours paying to chase your own children around. So sometimes on Wednesday, sometimes Thursday, a few times on a Saturday... once or twice on a Sunday. And Monday. My husband will once again announce he's been "invited" to Pickle ball, like it's a social occasion and not something he pays fees to do. It's always at dinner and bed time. It always gives him an awkward amount of time between work and the sport. And I'm always left on duty until the kids are settled in bed. 

    And for the most part, I don't really mind. It's a nice hobby to have. Mostly old people play, so I know there aren't any hot young lady Pickle Ballers distracting him on the court. It's not too expensive. He loves it. And it's helped him meet a couple of lads that could be friends in this foreign country. But the later it gets in the day, the more dishes I have to wash or food the children refuse to eat, the more angry I become. The more resentful I am that I'm alone. Again.

    Last night was particularly bad, because he had also played the evening before, and I tried to say no. I tried to explain that I didn't want to do it again, a second night in a row and that I was feeling under-prioritized and a little resentful. And he looked disappointed. So I compromised. Like a good wife does, right? I asked, "Well, could you maybe pick up dinner for us? So I at least wouldn't have to cook? And it could be food I know the kids will eat, so it won't be a fight? Could we do that?" And he thought about it, and then agreed, "Yeah! I can figure that out. I can make that work." 

    But he picked the kids up from school and returned without food. And he faffed about, not helping with them, not getting the house ready or even helping me make dinner before he was decked out and running out the door for Pickle ball. I was just in single-parent mode, despite my one stipulation to make Pickle Ball work for the whole family... had not happened.

    He argues that I should have made it a bigger deal. I should have reminded him. I should have... I should have... I should have... It's my fault, right? Because he was here and I didn't nag him down the stairs. I didn't reprimand him for not picking up the food. I didn't command him to give me the time between the older kids coming home and him leaving to decompress and rejuvenate for dinner, clean-up, getting the littlest ready for brushed and dressed and read to and to bed before I did it all over again with the older two. That was my fault.

    I have been trapped at home for over two weeks, car-less and stuck. My dearest friend here in Germany is moving away soon and I haven't been able to see her or spend any time with her. I'm just stuck. I try to go on walks to feel human, but walking with an almost 3 year old who has NO fear is stressful. And I don't get much out of the walks we take. I spend every day doing the same things: Take care of the kids, make food, clean up food, clean the house. Re-clean the house. Circulating rooms. Processing laundry. SO MANY DISHES. And the house is NEVER clean, the kids are unhappy no matter what food I make, and there is always at least three dishes in the sink at any given time. Even now, after doing laundry for 4 days straight, there is a load in the washer, a load in the dryer, and three sorted baskets that need to make their way into dresser drawers. 

    I'm never alone. My baby is clingy and whiny and never content to be left to her own devises (one because she hates being apart from me, and two... if she is alone she is making THE MOTHER OF ALL MESSES. Think live-action Cat in the Hat level chaos and you might have some idea of what I deal with all day). As I type this, she screams in my face excitedly that "IT'S CHRISTMAS! MAMA! IT'S CHRISTMAS!" (It is NOT Christmas, and it will not BE Christmas for almost a full year). 

    I'm not trying to say my husband owes me anything. He has had to take on the chauffeur job, the grocery shopping job, the errand running, the book returns, the eye and dentist appointments, and everything in-between, all while trying to figure out where and how and how to budget for getting my car fixed so I can have it back. We're both in this. In the thick of it. 

    I'm just saying that bringing home dinner because I asked for it would have been nice. And when he treated it so optionally... when he was dismissive and flippant about it even after he agreed? It hurt my feelings. It made already feeling like low priority that much more central. 

    As I showered for the first time in too long, I was thinking about it. Why this was so triggering for me. And I remembered that it used to be like this all the time. He would go to Pickle ball rain or shine back in Cali. Multiple times a week. But I had some connections in Cali. I wasn't quite so alone. I had support. It didn't always help to have that support. But it was something. And it was baseball and basketball at our base before. Just me, sitting home alone in a faraway state with my infant... feeling like the lowest thing on his To-Do list. In a lot of ways, when you're living the military life, the wife is sort of just another thing that gets carted from place to place. In the states you can work. You can find some community. But here, overseas, it's much harder. You're just a thing moving around like the rest of the furniture. Stuck at home, cooking and cleaning. Very "American Traditional Family". It can be very dehumanizing. 

    But I don't think him going to Pickle ball IS neglectful or abusive or even that callous. I love that he loves it. I just wish him going to Pickle ball wasn't connected to such an intricate web of memories and hurt that it FEELS like neglect every time he tells me... "I've been invited to play Pickle ball tonight."