Anonymous Mom is a weekly column of motherhood confessions, indiscretions, and parental shortcomings selected by Mommyish editors. Under this unanimous byline, readers can share their own stories, secrets, and moments of weakness with complete anonymity.
My husband is a great guy. Someone that everyone loves. And everyone loves to party with him too. He has almost no self-control when it comes to partying. I am almost always the designated driver when we go out or to a friend's house. If he does happen to drive he decides to "pace himself," instead of just refraining from drinking altogether.
I can guarantee that even if he is not drunk, he definitely wouldn't pass the .08 blood alcohol limit on a breathalyzer if something were to happen. He cannot fathom going out and having absolutely NOTHING to drink. Where's the fun in that?
His drinking has caused numerous problems for us in our 11 years of marriage. All of which are swept under the rug, and, for me, stored up as resentment towards this, otherwise, pretty awesome guy.
I used to think that I would NEVER get a divorce. And tomorrow I may feel that way again. But today, I am ready for it. Today, I hate my husband and see no change in his behavior in sight.
My husband took our three kids (aged three, 10, and 11) out of town to visit family this weekend. Now, this has never happened before - him leaving with all of the kids, and me staying home alone (I didn't join them because I wasn't feeling well). I thought that this would be awesome and was so happy that my husband offered to go it alone. I figured I would be able to rest peacefully, get things done that I never seem to have the opportunity to get done. Like maybe go to the bathroom without someone needing something right at that moment.
Things were going along okay at first. I talked to my husband and kids on Saturday night and all seemed to be going well. I was a little pissed off that my 10-year-old son asked me if I was feeling any better while my husband didn't. I had to volunteer the information to him, but that's kind of par for the course.
The next day was St. Patrick's Day. I didn't hear from my husband all day and so I called him around five to see what his plan was for coming back home that day. When I reached him he said that he had gone to a family friend's pub that is located in the heart of downtown Detroit. He took the kids, his father, and brother with him.
Now, this is a place that we go to frequently (with the kids). There is normally a large crowd and dozens of eyes on our children. But this time, my stomach turned a little bit. My husband was in downtown Detroit, at a bar/restaurant on St. Patty's day, with his absentee father, and his brother (who has no kids of his own). Oh, and did I happen to mention that my husband (and his father and brother) are functional alcoholics? (but shhhh, don't tell them that).
I wanted to trust. I wanted to believe that my husband would be responsible. That he would have an early dinner, maybe a beer, at the most two, then take his brother and dad home, then get on the road and head back home (a three hour drive). He told me that he planned to be on the road by eight p.m.
I texted my husband around eight to ask him to send me a text when they were getting on the road, so that I knew when to expect them home. About an hour later I got a call from him. He said that he had just gotten back to his brother's house and was trying to decide if he should make the trek home, or wait until the next morning to get on the road. And then he told me this story:
He said he lost it on our two older kids and he was so upset with them. At some point, my 10-year-old son asked my husband if he could take his grandpa outside and walk around and show him the city. My husband told him that would be okay, if his grandpa wanted to. He said after dinner he walked away from the kids to go up to the bar, got caught up in conversation, and then looked around and wondered where our 3-year-old was (?!?)
He walked around to the other section of the restaurant and finally found him standing by himself at the front door looking out (and could have walked right out the door and onto the main street, Woodward, of downtown Detroit without anyone noticing). My husband asked him where the two older kids were and my son said that they were outside. My husband said he started to freak out when he walked outside and didn't see them anywhere. He said he walked up and down the street, into the back alley, and all around yelling for them with any response.
That's when he said he saw them running back from Hart Plaza (about two blocks from the pub). They were running back, laughing and so excited about their little adventure. My husband said he grabbed them both by their shirts and lost it on them, telling them all about how this was not a playground. It was a VERY unsafe area and that they had scared the shit out of him and how dare they think it's OK to just walk out the door and roam the streets of Detroit on their own?! He took them inside and had their 21-year-old cousin (who happens to works at the pub and lives in downtown Detroit) reinforce how dangerous what they had just done was. He ends the story by saying "But it was an awesome time and I'm so glad we went!"
Now, my pulse is racing! I can't even think straight! I said, "THAT'S HOW YOU END THE STORY?! You had "an awesome time"?
I said, "I may be overstating things a bit...but I had major reservations about you and your brother and your dad taking the kids to the pub on St. Patrick's Day! You lost track of the kids?! Our 3-year-old could have just walked right out the door and onto the streets of Detroit! I don't know how many beers you actually had (he told me a few earlier in the conversation), but you do SOUND like you have had a few! And then you drove back to your brother's, on a drunk's holiday, with the kids in the car? I definitely want you to stay there for the night! I do not want you to get back on the road again to come home!"
His response - "Yeah, yeah you are overstating things! Oh, and you're so perfect? And this has never happened to you before?!"
Uh, no, sorry. Never lost the kids anywhere, let alone in Detroit. I told him goodbye and he said "love you" in a real sentimental way (enter sarcasm). It was then that I stopped and said a prayer, thanking God for watching over my children and keeping them safe.
After this particular incident, I was up until 5:30 am, stewing. Every time I thought about what had happened my heart would start racing again. All I could think was "I want a divorce. This is never going to change. He is always going to drink too much, be irresponsible, and throw things back in my face in order to feel better about himself or what he has done. And all of this at our kid's expense. I don't know how, or even IF, I will ever get him to see things from my perspective."
He and the kids came home this morning. My anger has somewhat subsided, but right now at least, I want nothing to do with him.
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