Without rehashing too much, Minime spends only a couple nights a month at her dad’s house, and this is brand new as of a few months ago—-for the first 10+ years of her life, it was 100% all my responsibility 24/7. The couple nights a month are important for her because she’s never had a father around at all so she’s really excited to be there, and those couple nights are important to me so I can catch up on some things.
Tonight was one of those two nights in October that she was supposed to be at her dad’s house. She called a few hours ago and said she didn’t feel so great. I told her I was sorry she was feeling yucky and talked to her dad about making her a little more comfy so she could rest. Guess who just appeared on my doorstep? Minime and her dad. He brought her back because she didn’t feel so great, which apparently is all my problem to deal with and he’ll see us in a couple weeks, bye.
I am pissed. I am not pissed at Minime, but I sure as hell am pissed at her dad for shirking his responsibilities. I have things to do, some pretty high priority things to do, that will be thwarted by fetching Sprite, tissues, finding movies, adjusting the thermostat, on and on…things that her dad could have done for her and should have done for her. It is not that I don’t want to take care of my sick child because she is my everything and of course I’ll take care of her, but dammit I have done this all alone for years on end, cleaning up the snot and the barf and refilling drinks and adjusting blankets just so, fetching favorite stuffed animals and fluffing pillows so it just doesn’t seem like too much to ask for her dad to do it for just one night. Just one night.
And what could I do in front of Minime except let her in the house when they showed up? I’m not going to reject my daughter, shoo her away, when she’s standing in front of me with her overnight bag of PJs and videos.
So. I’m pissed at her father. I’m angry. And I’m being summoned for a drink or a snack or something right this second. Sigh.