It happened again tonight. Just when I thought I was nearing the finish line, like a runner in the last stretch of a race—though I can only assume this feeling since I’ve never actually run a marathon (I did manage a 5K once, so that must count for something, right?).
So there I was at 6:45 p.m., the baby was in a playful mood, treating the toilet like it was a water park, while my preschooler insisted on starting a Play-Doh masterpiece. Just as I juggled these two delightful disasters, my phone buzzed with a new message.
No way!
“Sorry, hon, I’m running late.”
Great.
Normally, I’m a level-headed person. Every day, I tackle the chaos of shopping, cleaning, laundry, and the endless cycle of parenting with a smile—well, I try to. But there’s a point when the weight of it all becomes too much, and for me, that point hits right at 7 p.m. That’s when I clock out, and it coincides perfectly with my partner’s usual arrival time. When he’s late, I go straight to DEFCON 1. Here’s how my mind races:
- This can’t be happening. Why now? Just as I ask myself this, something truly outrageous tends to unfold: perhaps a child decides that paste is a gourmet snack, or worse, a surprise “gift” appears in their underwear for me to admire.
- How on Earth am I expected to whip up dinner while also keeping these little tornadoes entertained? Ironically, they seem just as fed up with me as I am with them. I’m not a terrible mom, but after a marathon day of parenting, I’ve run out of tricks.
- How late is “late”? Ten minutes? Fifteen? If it stretches to an hour, I might just barricade myself in the bathroom with the baby. He finds toilets fascinating, so at least we’d have a moment of peace. The older kids can fend for themselves… hopefully without harming each other.
- It’s been a full day since I last engaged in adult conversation. The last person I spoke to was the cashier, who probably didn’t understand half of what I said as I rambled on about my grandmother’s last dinner visit. He was a good listener though; I should check if he’s available tomorrow.
- It’s going to be alright. I’ve managed all day; what’s a bit longer? I’m fortunate to have a partner to share this journey. But then, a wave of panic washes over me—what if he’s late because he found someone else? Someone young and glamorous, who doesn’t have unkempt hair or cuticles longer than her nails. She probably has hair extensions too. Ugh.
“Hey, babe, what’s for dinner?”
“Broiled Salmon, Eau de Toilette. The baby helped!”
“Really? He’s finally moved past his toilet obsession?”
“Yup!”
Not even close.
In the world of parenting, these thoughts are all too common. If you’re navigating similar challenges, consider exploring helpful resources like this fertility booster for men or check out this guide on couples’ fertility journeys. And for valuable insights into pregnancy, this podcast is a fantastic resource.
In summary, when your partner is late, it can trigger a whirlwind of thoughts from frustration to panic, all while juggling the chaos of family life. It’s a relatable experience that many parents share, filled with humor and exhaustion.
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