Hindsight is 20/20

I don't often legitimately complain about my husband (at least not outside of the earshot of close friends), but I was doing it yesterday while on the phone with my father.  I was incredibly annoyed by the fact that J had decided that he wasn't going to come home last night, even though he stayed up in Vail the night before and thus should have had plenty of rest by virtue of not having to get up at 4 in the morning to drive 2 hours to go to work.

See, the night before he decided to go mountain biking with a bunch of the guys.  And being the fucking reckless 15-year-old that he is at heart, he was doing stupid shit, taking risks, and ended up tumbling down a steep incline on his bike.  So he was feeling a little beat up.  And decided that "he wouldn't be much use if he came home" because he was really sore and tired.

What-fucking-ever.  I had had a rough morning with the kids, and really needed the help of another adult around.  And I had been telling Zeke that Daddy would be coming home.

But Daddy was sore.

If I don't sound sympathetic, it's because I'm not.  I don't have the option of not coming home because I'm tired or sore or not in the mood.  And I was pissed that in addition to having another night of full-time kid duty, I had to disappoint Zeke by telling him that Daddy wouldn't be home after all.

All because Daddy is too stupid to show some regard for his own safety.

So I was complaining to my dad.  "Why do I have to be the grown-up all the goddamned time?  Why are boys so fucking stupid?"

"I don't know, honey.  But your mother's the same way.  She's the only one that's a grown-up in our house!"

"Hmph."

"Hell, I don't know why you women marry us.  I wouldn't marry one of us."

Well, shit.  It would have been nice if someone had warned me beforehand.