IGC

I've scheduled myself for some exploratory surgery. I called my OB, demanding she go searching for my IGC (intrauterine guilt chip). Somewhere during the whole labor and delivery process it was implanted in me, by who I'm not sure. Maybe the anesthesiologist? Regardless, the IGC is there. I can feel it trying to thwart my every impulse to do something that will improve my health, mental well being, or happiness. Like an electric fence, ready to administer a high voltage shock, it's there. How else can I explain my actions yesterday?

It was a tough day at the office for Mommy. Gregory's stomach bug from last week must have lodged itself so far up his rectum, that in my arms was the only place he could be comfortable. He did not stop whining or crying all day. And Charlie, my beloved eldest. You would think after saying 412 times, "Please be gentle with your brother. It's not okay to hit him, pull his hair, push him down, or make him eat carpet", he would get the idea to stop. No, instead he ran from room to room, banging on walls, yelling, "Stope it, stope it! I'm not saying the adult word, it's my word. Gregory is stope it." We're into creative cursing, he's not allowed to say 'stupid' so he says things like 'stope it', 'fonk' or 'shick'.

Thankfully, my husband left work early, slow day for him. He went to the gym and came home refreshed, showered, and ready for some family time. The boys were acting up or really just acting the same as they had all day. I wanted nothing more than to go for a run, alone. If I could have that, maybe my response to their every question wouldn't be a raised, strained voice on the verge of hysteria.

I said, I'm going to go for a run if you don't mind. Charlie threw himself at me and yelled, 'Mommy, don't go, don't go. Take me with you. Don't leave. I don't want to stay home with Daddy.' Gregory sat at my feet, crying hysterically. Brian said, "Um, do you mind waiting an hour or so, until one of them is in bed, or atleast they're both having dinner?"

I think the IGC rendered me speechless as I was only able to muster a 'you can't be serious' glare at my husband. 'What?', he said, 'You really can't wait to go?'
It is going to be pitch black in an hour, I'll be gone for 20, maybe 30 minutes tops.
'So, it's not like you haven't run in the dark before. Why can't you go to the gym later?'
If my husband had any sense, he would realize that in an hour, my motivation would be gone faster than my first glass of wine or my sanity.

I stood up and started walking away, fuming. Charlie scampered after me, whining for me not to go, to take him with me. The IGC informed him that I wasn't going anywhere, I was going to stay home where I belonged. He was gleeful. He grabbed me around the waist and tried to lift up my shirt in an attempt to find my belly button. Sticking his finger into my navel is one of his favorite signs of affection. I detest it. As I pulled away, he put his hands on my belly and said, "Why is it so big?" AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. I went straight into my room and slammed the door.

When I emerged 2 minutes later (the IGC doesn't permit a longer break than that), Brian had a smirk on his face that I wanted to smack, like a mosquito on my arm. I ignored him. 'What, you're going to be mad at me?'
Yes, I am. You got to go to the gym at your convenience, all I'm asking for is 30 minutes.
'How often do I say 'no', Christine? Never. And I didn't say no, I just asked that you wait.'
Fair point, he never says no and really bends over backwards to help me when I need it. The IGC must have been set off, because I actually felt bad. I started to concede until he opened his mouth again, 'Why didn't you go this morning? I was around and asked if you needed anything.'

So says the man who got to spend a leisurely hour plus at the gym, probably got to do weights as well as cardio and take a steam.
All I'm asking for is a little equality. Why can't I take a run at the end of my day and when I want to? Why can't I leave and let you handle the kids for a bit? He spouted on and on about building his gym time into his schedule. 'I think we're going to have to agree to disagree on this one. You don't understand what I'm saying. You could have gone for a run this morning. And it's not fair to leave me with the kids when it's clear that Mommy is the only one they want.'

My rage must have stifled the IGC, I could feel it's hold on me weakening as I yelled, That is it! First, the kids are 3 and 1 and easily distracted. Play trucks, throw knives, tie them up with rope, pay any attention to them at all, or simply wait 5 minutes, and I promise you'll quickly become their favorite person. Second, I have been with them, in this state of ridiculousness, ALL DAY LONG and you're giving me grief about 30 minutes? I need a break before I go out of my mind.

And with that I set off into the near complete darkness. 25 minutes later I returned, feeling dare I say, happy. I could greet my children with a smile, I even gave my husband a kiss. Now was that so bad, you stope it, fonking, shick head?