bliss

Cal has a football game at the school tonight, and he always gets this weird guilt thing going right before he leaves me to deal with the kids at bedtime by myself. I always tell him (and usually mean it) that if it's work, I'm cool. Still, though, he is who he is, and a big part of who he is has an issue with guilt. Sorry, babe, for the business of yours that I just put in the streets.

Anyway, this afternoon, right after he got home from work and about an hour before he had to leave again, he (read: his guilt complex) said to me, "You should go get something to eat and I'll stay here with the boys."

Mind you, I don't think he really meant it, nor did he think I'd agree, I'm sure.

He might have had time to look up from whatever he was doing before hearing my tires squealing out of the driveway. Then again, he might not've.

Ahhhhh.

To his immense credit, when I got home, both the babies were fed, bathed, and in pajamas. Now that's quite a guilt complex (read: man) that I married!