My birthday was last week, and it fucking sucked. I didn't get to see any of my family before I left for the day, which isn't anything that different, but usually Pat gets up and we have coffee while reading the paper together. Normally this wouldn't be a big deal, but in looking back, it just adds to my shittastic day.
I am able to squeeze a quick workout in after work and go to pick up my kids from aftercare and daycare. Sarah wishes me a happy birthday, and then as we drive away from the school, she proceeds to fight with me about going to choir. We get Emma and head home to where I find cards and birthday gifts, unwrapped, set out on the kitchen table. I open the card from the kids and it's great, I love it. Pat's card is nice, but there isn't a thing written in it. The gifts are fine, strange, but fine; he got me a pillow and a lap desk for my laptop-neither of which I needed or wanted. My husband got home, and figured out what we would have for dinner and went and picked it up. He could tell I wasn't thrilled about the gifts, but never said a word to me about how my day went, never said happy birthday, never gave me even a hug or a kiss. We went to bed and he fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.
I woke up Thursday morning in a horrible mood. As I got ready for work, it hit me that the only person who hugged me the day before was the toddler. The only person who told me they loved me on my birthday was the toddler. I cried on my way to work and got so angry with my husband for being an insensitive jerk.
I had a long talk with one of my best friends at work and she told me that I needed to have a talk with him about how I felt and that it wasn't anything to do with the gifts. She worked with me on finding the words to tell him that I need more affection, things needed to change.
I followed her advice and we had a great talk after dinner that day. He agreed that he needed to do better and that we needed to work on things. He neglected to give me the hug and kiss that I needed though. Our evening was interrupted by a trip to the ER with the little one, but he genuinely seemed concerned and willing to put forth more effort.
The next few days, he was working in the evening, but he made it a point to kiss me goodbye and tell me he loved me. But that was the extent of it. Last night, was our first evening together in a few days. We were having some decent conversation during the Steelers game, despite sitting on two separate couches (something I told him was getting in the way of our emotional intimacy). He wasn't that into the game and had said that if the Steelers fell behind by 14 points, he was turning off the game. At halftime, we closed up, went upstairs, and got ready for bed. He cleared off his side of the bed and then went downstairs, I assumed, because he had forgotten to do something. He never came back up. The game continued to be a blow –out and he stayed downstairs. I began to get pissed. The later it got, the more pissed I became. Emma woke up and needed to go potty, and when I got up with her and he still wasn't in the bed, I was fuming.
Maybe I'm overreacting, but I really felt like we needed to spend time together, talking or just being close, considering what went down on my birthday and the fact that he just came off working an evening shift which means we don't get to see too much of each other.
I am still pissed off this morning. I really feel like he wasn't even listening to what I said the other night. I need to feel appreciated, I need to feel as though I am important, I need you to ask how my day went, I need you to touch me, a hug, a kiss, a hand on my back. I need to feel like you are putting me and our marriage first every now and again. I need you to realize that when I tell you that I had a rough day with the kids, that I need some support from you, a hug, something.