A New Schedule

I came downstairs this morning and there he was. All stretched out on the couch and watching a television program about Mussolini. Who wants to watch a program about Mussolini first thing in the morning?

“Tom,” I croaked, because my voice was still asleep. “I usually watch The Today Show when I wake up.”

Tom gestured to the TV. “I’m watching this.”

I shut my eyes briefly and then opened them. “I see that but I watch The Today Show in the morning. I’m interested to see if they have any new details on that poor girl who was kidnapped for 18 years.”

“You snooze, you lose!” Tom said cheerfully which basically means he has no heart because hello, where was his concern for the kidnapped girl??

Okay, so technically he got to the TV first fair and square. But still. I watch The Today Show in the morning. He knows this.

“When do you go to work again?” I asked with a nasty edge to my voice.

Because guess what? Tom is working a regular schedule now. It’s a foreign concept to me. Nearly our entire marriage, he worked a schedule of three days on, two days off, two days on, three days off. But then he went and cross trained to be a K-9 Handler and they are finally giving him a dog to work with. This means that he’s currently in training on how they handle things on this base which means that he works from Monday thru Friday from 8-5.

It’s weird.

I’m used to having him gone when I wake up.

Suddenly he’s here.

I’m used to having him gone during lunch time.

Suddenly he’s here.

He gets an hour lunch break and comes home and sort of seems baffled on what to eat.

“I don’t make a deal big about lunch, Tom,” I’ve explained to him. “Sometimes I just have cereal.”

“CEREAL?” he spit out the word as though it were dirty.

I think he honestly believes that I’m going to prepare a lunch. Me? The woman who doesn’t even like preparing dinner. Why in the world would I cook another meal?

“Well, most wives would,” Tom pouted starting his ‘most wives’ game that he likes to play. It’s annoying, really.

“Tom, we’ve already established that I’m not like most wives. So move on,” I said bluntly. This is true. I’m never going to be a wife that washes his uniforms. He has hands to do it. I already wash his underwear and that’s a chore in itself. I’m never going to cook him an elaborate lunch. Oh, I’ll be glad to stick a frozen meal in the microwave for him but that’s about it.

And also, when he comes home from lunch, am I meant to converse with him? Usually I’m darting around the house, cleaning stuff or hopping online. Do I have to stop and talk? When he first came home on Monday I perched myself on the couch.

“Er, so, how was your day?” I felt obliged to ask even though I usually inquire about this when he comes home for good in the evening.

“It’s going fine. I met the dog that I’ll be working with,” Tom answered.

A pause.

“Well, okay, I’m going on the computer,” I said and headed over.

“Don’t you want to talk?” Tom wondered.

Oh. Well. Not really. But I went back over anyway.

Then Tom reached over and switched the television channel to cartoons.

“I don’t watch cartoons,” I said, trying to grab the remote back. I mean, hello? Who wants to sit around watching The Penguins of Madagascar?

“This show is hilarious,” Tom assured me.

“I watch Inside Edition,” I fumed.

But Tom was already enthralled in the show. So I got up and started walking away.

“Don’t you want to talk?” he called out.

“No. You’re watching cartoons,” I replied. “I’ll talk to you when you get home from work. Like I usually do.”

“But I’m home right now!” Tom argued.

For heavens sake! At that point Natalie was down for her nap which meant that it was QUIET TIME. It meant no talking. I like to do my chores and enjoy the silence and relish in the fact that I don’t have a kid wanted to “help” which means that the chore takes twice as long. Then I usually go on the computer or read my book.

“We’ll talk later, I promise,” I told Tom and started to do the dishes.

It’s just weird having him around so often. And now he’ll be home every weekend. I’m used to him working every other weekend. He’s going to be expecting lunch even though I usually just make Cinnamon Buns for Sunday lunch. But when I mentioned this to Tom he made a face and went, “Cinnamon Buns aren’t lunch!”

Yes they are! They certainly can be lunch. There are no set rules for lunch!

I love him very much, I do, but I’m just used to my schedule, you know?

And I am so tired of having cartoons on the TV. And if it’s not cartoons, it’s the dreaded Military Channel where I have to sit and watch an entire show about tanks. TANKS! It’s just as boring as it sounds. He claims that The Today Show is boring but at least that show is informative. I mean, today I learned all about how people are starting to raise chickens in their backyard. It was fascinating. Okay, not really, but it WAS more interesting than learning about a Sherman Tank at least....