I cannot stand to be late. I would rather be 30 minutes early to something than late. It makes me crazy and sets the tone for the whole day. So, when my darling husband arrived at home at 9 am today so I could take Drew to his 9 am preschool, to say I was annoyed was an understatement. I know he was doing me a favor by watching the twins this morning, as his mom is away and she’s my bi-weekly babysitter so I can volunteer at Meg’s school. But I had a commitment and when I commit to something, I follow through. Thankfully, I got Drew to school only 10 minutes late, wasn’t the last parent/grandparent/caregiver to arrive and got to Meg’s school on time. But his blase “sorry” when I flew out the door got me thinking about my commitments versus his commitments, and how sometimes I feel like the things that I do aren’t that important. Because honestly, I only get out twice a month to volunteer in Meg’s classroom, and my Creative Memories events are either on Friday nights or Saturdays. I plan all of what I do around either his schedule or the kids’ schedules and all I ask is that he be punctual. Is that really too much to ask? I would complain (I mean blog of course) more about my darling husband, but he’s reading over my shoulder. And he reads this blog, so I have to temper my comments. Because there are days when he’s late getting home (yesterday) or he’s late getting here and I just want to blog about it to see if it will make me feel better. I know it really won’t make me feel better and I need to just talk with him, but if he’s not here/late getting here, then I just get cranky about it. And I hunt down some chocolate. Because of course chocolate soothes a cranky soul. Right?