I’m not sure if he thought I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown, or if Mr. Wonderful made some unshared New Year’s Resolution to pay greater attention to my ‘needs,’ but for the last few days, some freaky stuff has been happening.
Take Sunday, New Year’s Day, for example. I found myself home alone for a little while. Mr. Wonderful and the boys left the house for about an hour, leaving me and the dog all by ourselves.
Now, I get my fair share of alone time – after I’ve dropped a kid off at school or at a friend’s house, when I’m headed to my MIL’s to pick her up for a doctor’s appointment, and even in the grocery store. But you may see a pattern here. If I’m by myself, I’m usually away from home, and usually doing something for someone else.
I hardly ever put myself first. I rarely ask others to do what I could just get up and do myself. And I very, very seldom watch TV.
So with this gift of an hour, I cozied up in the big chair with a glass of wine and the remote. At first it felt a little odd, scanning the channel guide, passing up all the football games, zombie shows, and Spongebob reruns. I scroll to the channels that never get watched, and see a lovely chick-flick beginning. Figuring I can watch the first hour or so, I settle in.
Sipping my wine in the clean, quiet house, a sense of calm sweeps over me. I resist the urge to watch the clock, not wanting the precious time to end.
Just about the time Julia Roberts is picking out some new clothes on Rodeo drive, the guys return home.
That’s when the freaky part happened.
The boys instinctively entered the living room, intent on usurping control from me, and Mr. Wonderful stopped them.
“Your mom’s watching a movie. Y’all go upstairs.”
Curious, I looked to see where these words came from. And there was Mr. Wonderful looking my way.
“Really?” I replied. “I’ll turn it off.” It seemed almost foreign for me to be sitting down watching a movie — a chick-flick even — when they were home.
But I went with it.
I just sat there.
Watching Julia and Richard get to know one another for the one-thousandth time.
I heard the little kitchen TV turn on and the sound of NFL announcers wafting my way. Was he testing me?
I was in the living room, with the big tv and the remote, watching Pretty Woman while he sat isolated at the kitchen table watching football.
This was uncharted territory. I wasn’t even sure how to respond.
Was this some passive-aggressive attempt to get me to put the game on? Did he have some dreadful news to deliver, and wanted me in a good frame of mind to do so? Or was he simply … letting me watch tv?
I didn’t really know what to think. So I pushed the complicated thoughts out of my head.
And watched a movie.