Too much independence on Independence Day

Stephen came tearing down the stairs at 9:30 AM on Thursday, the Fourth of July, "Ian and I are going on an adventure."

"Okay, " I said. "What kind of adventure?"

"We're going to the parade downtown at 10:00, and then the airshow."

It sounds so reasonable, now. But at the time, it infuriated me.  The complexity of our blended family dynamic had pretty much everything to do with it.

Stephen's ex-wife, Andrea, had had a medical emergency and was in the hospital. Grandparents were taking care of Stephen's two girls, and we were taking care of Ian. Not too much to ask, at all. My kids were with their dad for the week, so we might have had a full week of kid-free living together--a luxury no un-divorced parents ever have or expect.

On their own, none of the kids are usually much trouble. Ian is thirteen, has his own interests and can keep himself happy for hours. To me, last week, however, his presence made me feel like we had all the kids. He got bored, he had the television on maximum volume, he had places he wanted to go, and he wanted all of Stephen's attention.

Stephen had made arrangements at work to spend more time at home for the week.  I had been working, but was off on the Fourth. The plan we had made for the Fourth was lame and not particularly festive--we were all going to go to the gym (since it was unexpectedly open) and work out.  At 9:30, I had been up for a couple of hours but hadn't done much more than drink coffee and watch Wimbledon. I wasn't dressed, the dog wasn't walked, and I hadn't been consulted.

"Could you move your car?," Stephen asked. Clueless.

"Sure, you guys go ahead and do your thing," I said, storming out to the driveway.

After the car ballet, Stephen came back in.

"Please don't be mad at me about this," he said, bewildered. I'm sure he felt as like a million other divorced dads have felt trying to keep their kids happy while facing their current partner's wrath at being back-burnered.  "Do you want to go?," he said. NO, I bellowed. No. Just go.

----

"Are you still mad at me?" Stephen asked, when he got back. He'd taken Ian back to his mom's for fireworks. I had cleaned the house all day in my funk.

"Yes." I said calmly.  We had a good argument then, with yelling, and I was able to express that I had only wanted to be included in the plan, that I may not have even gone with them. He explained that under these special circumstances, he was particularly focused on getting through it.

"You want me to run EVERYTHING by you, then?" he scoffed.

"No, just PLANS that AFFECT me," I shouted.

"WHAT DID YOU WANT TO DO?" he yelled.

"I WANTED TO BE WITH YOU," I wailed, suddenly feeling like a five-year-old.

----

We had the kids again for this past weekend, still off-schedule due to Andrea's recovery.  Friday nights are Stephen's time to spend with his kids on their own.  My kids are still with their dad on Friday nights, and I usually make my own plans.

Stephen texted me while I was at the gym, "What are you up to?"

I called him when I was finished. "We're thinking of going to see fireworks downtown, " he said. "But I wanted to run it by you first. " Pause. "Do you want to go?".

He could have meant it sarcastically, but neither of us wanted me to take it that way. "Yes," I said.  Yes, I do.