We had a wonderful 2 days in NYC on our way to Rome. Mom and Harville made it a very special time, and Ron and I had a great evening with Hunter.
Then we headed to Rome.
It all fell apart!
Our family was put in two rooms that were 4 floors apart! We could not all fit in the basement room, nor in the room 4 flights up. The windows on the 3rd floor are not childproofed, and the 4 flights of marble steps seemed perfect for splitting a head open. It all seemed very dangerous. But the campus was vacant, and there was no one around to help us. Additionally, one of the kids had had an accident on the futon, and we had no laundry tokens so as to clean it up. We had no phone, no internet access, no food, and it was pouring rain so could not really go anywhere.
Much worse than that, however, was that Ron was a disaster and I was a disaster. He was foggy headed from having zero sleep the night of the plane ride, and so he was making strange decisions. But he was not talking with me about them at all. One or two would have been fine with me. But there were so many! It was like a little mini-hell: being in an unsafe environment, being afraid your 3 year old was about to meet her death out the window, and not being able to work out safety and organization because both parents were mad.
I let him know that as a Mom, I am really important; rather than making me less important, it actually makes me MORE important, and he should know better! Ahem! That message did not, suffice it to say, go over very well.
I was seized with an intense desire to go home. We would miss out on Italy, but at least I know how to have my kids in a controlled space there.
We talked that evening. We talked, and talked, and talked.
Somehow, in the course of talking, I just let it go. I accepted his apology.
Having moved on, having gotten some sleep, the next day, things got much better.
No comments:
Post a Comment