Scraps

It's almost two o'clock in the morning (on a school night). . . .do you know where your spouse is? Because I don't. Oh, I know where he SAYS he is. I know that conveniently his friend, who is always getting into scrapes of some kind, called and needed his "help." That he locked his keys in his car and needs Mo to bring his girlfriend (and the spares) to him -- or was he taking the girlfriend home? I know that he SAYS he is just trying to be a "good friend." What I don't know is whether or not he is completely blowing smoke up my ass, or if he is just maddeningly unable to say "no" to anyone.

I don't know if it even really matters anymore. I don't know if I even care if he really IS doing exactly what he says he is or not. I am so damn sick and tired of waking up in the middle of the night to find him gone -- to the store, to a friend's, to the local watering hole. WHEREVER. It just doesn't make a bit of difference to me anymore. It seems that I am the only person on this planet that he is capable of saying "no" to. . .perhaps because he knows that I am going to stick around, no matter what? That used to make me happy -- to think that he knew that I loved him unconditionally, that I was the one person in his life that wasn't going to bail on him (and literally everyone, his parents included, have at some point or another). I took great pride in always being there, in being supportive, in forgiving his mistakes. Now, however, I simply feel taken for granted.

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Mo and I have been struggling lately as to what to do about Little Miss. Our three-year-old niece is currently living with my mother-in-law. It's a complicated situation, but we have begun to wonder if she might be better off here. Just tonight Mo asked me if I would be willing to take Little Miss in, if he could get his mother to agree. He's even willing to allow his mother to keep the paperwork the same (she has custody because LM's mother is not capable of caring for her), and to continue to get the WIC and food stamps and whatever else she is drawing for her -- he just wants LM to be in the best situation possible.

So, of course, as he is running around town in the wee hours of the morning, I reminded him of this. "Just what would you be doing if Little Miss was here?" I asked him. "If she woke up in the middle of the night and wanted to know where you were?"

He seemed genuinely shocked that I would ask this. "I wouldn't leave if we had a child in the house," he claims. I snorted -- I couldn't help myself. Does he really think that? Perhaps it is true. Even so, it doesn't make me any happier.

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A bloggy friend recently posted something that has stuck with me, resonating in my head whenever Mo and I reach such an impasse.

"I am not less important than a child." she wrote. "I don’t always have to have the leftovers. I don’t have to have the minimum amount of love. I don’t always have to have the scraps."






So, then, can anyone tell me why I'm always settling for them?