No Title As Yet!

Always Be On Time

Pulling myself up for the soft comfort of the arm chair I waddled the short distance to the kitchen area and began to prepare the casserole for tea. With every inch of my body aching from the days adventures I peeled the bright orange carrots with tears running freely down my face. It seemed most of my time was spent on crying these days, perhaps it was the hormones playing havoc with my emotions or perhaps it was simply that I was so unhappy, all I do know is that not a day went by when I didn’t cry. I cried when I woke in the morning and I cried myself to sleep each night.

My swelling stomach forced me to lean over the dark oak worktop to dice up the lean steak I had bought to cook his favourite dish, beef casserole. Trying to wiggle my way back into his good books .Slopping it all into the gleaming glass dish I poured over the rich smelling casserole sauce and put it into the oven. I had no idea what time he would be home, or if he would even be home. Some nights after wok the local Public House was his first port of call, then he would stagger his way home early hours of the morning. But if he did come straight home he would arrive between six and six thirty, so I thought by having it ready for six thirty would be the better solution, at least it would not be stood simmering or even worse burn.

“Mummy look” exclaimed a small voice behind me.
I turned to see my three year old daughter standing looking up at me with a huge smile spread across her innocent face, she had painted me a picture. The picture showed a house with three matchstick figures, standing outside in the garden.
“This is you mummy” she said pointing at the bright pink figure.
“And this” she said proudly “Is my Daddy”.
Daddy was a bright blue mass of paint mixed with a little pink for good measure; he stood out from the picture more than the other two figures as it was the boldest figure there.
I never noticed it at thit time, but months later while I was flicking through the box of memoirs I had kept, I came across that very same picture, only Daddy was smiling. Mummy and the little girl wore blank expressions. Of course this observation went unnoticed by Daddy.

The sound of his car pulling to a stop outside the window made my little girl race across the room to take a look out of the large bay window.
“Daddy, Daddy” she cried while waving her arms ferociously.” My Daddy’s home”

That sinking deep sadness hit the pit of my stomach but I managed to force a smile in her direction. As he came through the door, picking her up and spinning her around until they both became so dizzy they fell onto the floor laughing. Her laugh was contagious and even I laughed a little.

I felt his presence before I saw him. I slid the Yorkshire Puddings which were standing ready on the baking tray into the oven, trying not to drop them as my hands were shaking .
We had argued the night before and he had left for work that morning without speaking a word. This was not unusual and as we could spend up to three days in a one way conversation. I would try to break the deathly silence by talking away and he would just sit with a blank expression and ignore every word I spoke.
I was so used to walking on egg shelves by this point that it became an every day occurrence. But the shell as I all ready knew always cracked.

“Have you had a good day” asked my shaky voice
“Tea ready yet”? Came the reply
“It won’t be too long, about fifteen minutes”
“Can’t you do anything flaming right” he yelled startling me.”For God’s sake I work all day and I can’t even come home to find my tea on the table”
“It’s almost ready” I managed to speak, in no more than a whisper.
“What the hell do you do all day” He screamed before marching out of the room and up the stairs, closely followed by our little girl.

“Well I never slept all night because I was scared to death that you would start back up the argument we had, that I am so tired all I want to do is curl up into a ball and sleep but instead, I got up at seven am and lit the fire which took me forever as the wind seemed to be fighting the flames to ignite. Then I awoke and fed and then dressed our daughter. Then I had to take her the twenty minute walk to the nursery and then on my way back home I stopped off at the shops to buy the ingredients for your tea. Then I had the same twenty minute walk back home. Then I started the housework, but it was soon time to walk all the way back to the local Nursery to collect our daughter and bring her back home. Then I gave her her tea and read a few stories before getting her into the bath kicking and screaming. After wrapping her snugly in her pyjama’s I sat her down with her paints so I could then rush around to make sure the housework was all done and prepare tea for ourselves”
I was shaking inside by this point “Not forgetting the appointment at the doctor’s surgery, walking the dog and painting the spare bedroom in between the tears and the tantrums a three year old possesses.” I wanted to scream, but instead as always I stood motionless with my head bowed low.

“Why could I never get anything right”?

I set the table and he and our little girl sat down in silence. At only three years old she had already learned it best not to make a noise in these instances.
We ate in silence.

I washed and put away the dishes while he and our little girl played in the front room.
“Time for bed” he declared and with that she flung her arms around his neck kissed him goodnight and began to ascend the stairs
“You can go with her” he spat in my direction “and stay there, I don’t want to see you back down these stairs.” Reaching for the remote control he switched over from the children’s programme and relaxed back into the chair with his feet resting on the fire place.

With that I was dismissed. I slowly followed my daughter up the stairs to her room and clumsily climbed into bed with her.
It was six thirty in the early evening and the light outside shone brightly through the pale pink curtains making it impossible to believe it was bedtime even for our three year old.
“It’s still day time mummy why do we have to go to bed”? She asked sadly “Was I naughty mummy”?
“No darling” I told her softly while holding her close “You were not naughty, it was Mummy that was naughty”
She wiped away the single tear that fell from my right eye and told me “Don’t cry mummy”

I lay as still as possible and stroked my little girl’s face until she fell into a deep and peaceful sleep. Turning over was an obstacle in itself, my bulging stomach made any position uncomfortable, but squashed into a single bed with another person no matter how small she maybe I knew made for another disturbed night of sleep.
I was nine months pregnant with our second daughter; the baby was already ten days late. I rubbed the small of my back and suddenly realised I needed to go and use the bathroom; I dashed from the bed as quickly as I could and reached the bathroom just in time. The insides of my stomach landed in the bottom of the toilet bowl.

As terrified as I was I had to go down to the kitchen as I desperately needed a cool glass of milk as I was now left with heartburn.
He watched as I walked slowly down the stairs into the living room wearing a ghastly white face. Struggling to stay upright as my head felt as if it was going to explode, I made my way across the front room carpet and stood for a moment to catch my breath.
“I told you to stay upside” he roared at me through gritted teeth.

I can not remember to this day whether what happened next was due to the baby pushing on my bladder or because I was in so much fear , but I felt the warm trickle of urine running down the inside of my legs, I had stood in the middle of the front room and urinated on myself.

Whether it was due to the miserable look or the tiredness on my face or maybe he felt guilty I had just urinated all over myself that he took pity on me and allowed me to stay in our bed for the remaining of the night. He made love to me roughly that night with no feeling or tenderness, when he was finished he sighed deeply and turned away from me and fell asleep.

I gave birth to his second daughter two days later.

From that night on I always telephoned home on his mobile phone to ask what time he would be home , so that his tea would be on the table ready for him when he walked through the door.

“Always have his tea waiting for him” Another lesson learned.