Every year about this time, our family takes a trip for the week-end. This year, our daughters decided that they weren’t going; they would go somewhere else themselves. And they didn’t tell my husband.
When he asked our oldest to stay with his mom tomorrow evening, she told him that she would be in another state.
Of course, I was the one called on the carpet. He demanded to know why he hadn’t been told.
I told him that they didn’t tell him because they didn’t want to.
He said that he supports them, provides food and shelter and has a right to know their plans.
I told him that he doesn’t have a relationship with them.
He said that was my fault because I don’t let us eat dinner together as a family.
Well, let me tell you what, for sixteen years, every breakfast and every dinner we ate together. Then we moved to this state, next to his parents, and for the next seven years, I NEVER knew if he would be home or not for dinner. Previous to moving, he didn’t spend a lot of time with our daughters, and after we moved, he spent no time with our daughters. He chose not to be home for dinners. He chose not to spend time with them. He chose not to cultivate a relationship.
Now they can’t stand to be around him.
But, of course, that is my fault, because I don’t let us eat together as a family.
Really? He tried that hard to be with them? And I stood in the way? Really?