My husband the softball player. He hasn't played in 2 years, 4 months and 10 days. It's like an addiction from which a guy never actually recovers.
For over a decade, he missed family functions; we cut vacation trips short; I spent entire weekends on metal bleachers, eating hot dogs for three meals a day and trying to ignore the rancid smell of the only 2 port-o-pots provided for all of 582+ over-ripe men to share. And that was the normal part.
Skipping my sister's wedding? Copping out of parental duties 2 mere days after bringing Monsoon home from the hospital? Dropping me at our best friends' wedding and never coming back so that the BRIDE had to take me home? Telling me I just don't understand about loyalty? Team loyalty, that is. Those things crossed a line.
So he quit, finally, to focus on school and finding a good job (and totally not because I threatened his life). It's been blissful. I love having weekends free all spring/summer/fall. I enjoy doing things with him rather than watching him do things while my butt goes numb.
But now he has this job. It's not a great job. It's not even a good job, but it's a job and we're thankful he has it. It's a big company, though, with lots of room to grow, and quickly.
Plus... PLUS - all the big bosses play softball, and they're all thrilled that he can play on their team.
Lucky us. Now he has to play ball. Guess I'll be getting that bleacher cushion out of storage.
Six Word Saturday #423
1 month ago