Because sometimes, I'm the two year old

Mr W called me from work a couple of months ago.  "We are being sent to a class in September.  Out of state, so I'll be gone for a few days."

"Okay."  Rah-rah, you go honey!  I'll be fiiine!  Holding down the fort!  Super!!!  I can do it!

He left yesterday.

No kid breakdowns yet.

But I had one.

I called him yesterday afternoon, just to see how things were going.  "Where are you?"

"Oh, we just crossed the Golden Gate Bridge."

Let me just say that San Francisco is one of my favorite places.  Love it.  I've only been there once, and I had such a good time, that I think about going there again, all the time.  I've suggested it, too, only to be met with resistance.  So to say I was irritated is an understatement.  Sure, it's juvenile, he's actually in San Jose for work, and I knew they were getting in early and certainly didn't expect him to sit in his hotel room and pine away for me, but did he have to go there?  I mean, really, while I'm here playing Mommy, he's in Ghirardelli Square, eating my chocolate?  He doesn't even really like chocolate!   Hmmphf.  (a fictitious example...if he'd said they were headed there, well, I think that would justify a spa week)

"Don't come back.  Seriously, I'm not talking to you.  You suck.  Must go.  Have to go make and feed all your kids dinner."

I was at my folks' house, and my father did not understand my irritation.  As I ranted blah, blah, "I never get to go anywhere," blah, blah "he never has to worry about anything, because I'm always here" blah, blah "he gets to do (tick off on fingers, you name it, I said it)" blah, blah "it's so totally not fair" blah, blah....he cuts me off.  And begins to say that Fisherman's Wharf,Fisherman's Wharf, for the love of God, is overrated, I cut him off:  "It is not. I've been there.  You are missing my point."  "Well, why don't you book yourself a trip somewhere, and leave him with the kids,"  <SNORT loudly from me> "Oh, so you want to go with him alone..." <more obnoxious noise from me>  I could feel my head about to spin so I just huffed and grabbed the keys.  "You said you wanted to go to the store.  Let's go."

I know I'm being unreasonable.  This is work, and he didn't choose the locale.  But wow, it grates me so; and who says I always have to be super! great! go ahead!  all the time?  I hope his class is mind-numbingly, yawn-a-minute, boring.

When he called me, later last night, I did talk to him.  I can't not talk to him, that's just an empty threat, he knows it, I know it.  He told me he was telling M, his coworker that is with him for this jaunt, that I was mad, and M didn't believe him.    "It wasn't my idea," Mr W adds, "but we had all this time to kill, and M suggested it..." "Tell M I think he sucks too," I responded. "And you need to stop trying those excuses right now.  It's no good, buddy.  Forget the iPod, and the puppy, you are back to square one."  He's laughing at me now, so I'm trying not to laugh, too. 

"So is your hotel right across the street from the place where you're training, like the description said?"  "Yeah, and it's nice, but not that nice."  "Are you making your bed?  Are you cleaning up after yourself and washing dishes?  No.  So I don't want to hear, "it's nice, but not that nice."  Dude, the last time I was alone someplace, with someone else changing my bed and bringing me dinner, I was in the hospital recovering from surgery.  You have clean towels, a made bed, and aren't having to do anything but order for dinner, so it's nice enough."

I'm sure I'll be missing him badly, and gushy by Wednesday night.  Maybe.

All I know is on Thursday evening, when we pick him up, there better be a present somewhere for me.

And I'm not talking about the "hon, come over here" kind.