Every winter I become a ski widow. This has happened every year since I met MPW, yet I still have not become accustomed. He is gone anywhere from 3-5 days of the week. Sometimes he is gone both days of the weekend instead of just one. Sometimes he goes for a long weekend to coach in Quebec. We end up fighting a lot some. Mostly, he is tired and grouchy and sore, so our social life is pretty much nil. I feel like he still needs to contribute around the house and I can’t be expected to pick up the slack because he decided to take a job he didn’t discuss with me first (but that’s a different story).

We live barely through it and then it starts again the next year. However, now it’s worse. Now we have the pug.
Angus does not like having his schedule interrupted. Mommy is supposed to come home and take him out immediately. Then we come in and he sits patiently while Mommy goes to the bathroom. Then it’s time for scratches, play time and peanut butter in a Kong. Then Daddy comes home and feeds him immediately. Then it is time to try to sneak into the laundry to get nylons to chew (yum!). In exasperation, Daddy takes him outside where he refuses to poop for him. Then it’s inside and running around and outside and inside and running and outside until he collapses on the back of the sofa.
Now that Daddy doesn’t come home two nights a week and at least one day on the weekend, Angus has begun to feel abandoned. His new schedule is as follows…
Mommy comes home and takes him out immediately. He waits patiently as mommy goes pee. Then he gets scratches and runs around, then scratches at the fridge for peanut butter. Then all heck breaks loose. Mommy is feeding him? Why? This is so wrong! Then come the looks that say What have you done to Daddy? Where is he? WHAT DID YOU DO? You. Will. Pay.
Time to vomit on the couch, vomit on Mommy (because he ran around so much and downed a bowl of water at once, then ran some more), chew on the laces of mommy’s sneakers, scratch at the couch, scratch at the fridge for more peanut butter, sneak into the bedroom via the bathroom and rub himself on the clean clothes, get the dirty underware and start flinging it around the room, bark at nothing, bark at the television (he really hates babies crying/little kids screaming) and then fall asleep on the back of the couch 15 min before Daddy comes home like a perfect little angel.

Last order of business is; make Mommy look insane for nearly crying and going at Daddy the second he gets in the door after a long day of work because her last nerve has been worked, she is tired and I am a little devil.
This is going to be a long winter.
Yeah, That Just Happened!