My Husband Treats Me Like His Servant

My Daily Routine — Kill Me Now!

I wake up at 7:30 am to get the daily routine going

I’m in charge of getting everybody on track. My husband works nights, so he’s not back yet. Before I get started, I stretch and check my phone for a message from my (former?) lover. Nothing. It’s one of the reasons I’m struggling with the idea of seeing him again. Although the sex was great, it’s the in-between attention that I miss the most.

I get up and start a pot of coffee. It will become crucial to my wifely duties as the day progresses. It’s one of the only topics of interaction my husband and I have.

I wake the kids up and get them set up for online school. My youngest is immunocompromized, therefore, schooling has been done at home since March of 2020.

I grab my first cup and sit down at my desk to go through my emails. There’s usually anywhere between 100 to 150 sitting in my inbox, mostly work-related. I skim through. I might see a notification from Ashley Madison and may log in to see who’s hitting me up.

I’m usually disappointed.

9:00 am — Husband arrives home

Before saying “hello, how are you? Did you have a good night?” he says “Coffee?” One word. Actually, it is more of a command than a word. I get up and fix him a cup, just how he likes it, and bring it to his bedroom where he will retire for most of the morning. He will call on me only when he needs another cup, usually by sending me a brief text on messenger or over the Google speaker, “top off coffee?”

I get back to work. My son comes to get me. He needs to print school work. My other son asks me to listen to his essay. I put my work aside and tend to their needs. It doesn’t matter how many times I tell them that when my office door is closed, I’m unavailable, there is little to no respect for my schedule. But that is okay. It’s a choice I made. My kids come before my work.

Lunchtime

The kids normally make their own, and I skip lunch — a bad habit I picked up in college. I am deep in my work when I get yet another ding. “Are we gonna eat something today?” That is my cue.

Yes, my grown-ass husband can’t make his own lunch. I get up and whip up something quick before returning to work. I try to keep a thankful heart and not grumble. What is this? 1950? I will find asking myself yet again, as I did so many times before.

Over the next few hours, I’ll get several smaller interruptions as he will ask me a million questions before going to sleep. He’s like another child.

Three o’clock comes. Amen.

He goes to bed and I finally get a good stretch of uninterrupted time to use as I see fit to do various tasks, either shopping, working, or paying the bills. Yes, I take care of his, and the family’s, finances too. But this free time is not void of stress. I walk on eggshells making sure the kids aren’t too noisy.

Dinner Time

I make supper while the children set the table. We all eat together, except for dad who’s sleeping. The kids do very little with their father, but I don’t think they really miss it. At least, they don’t show it. Probably because I spend so much time with them.

After dinner, most nights, the kids will do dishes, then sometimes we watch tv, sometimes we play basketball, and sometimes we do our own thing. Around 7:30, I get my workout in, then I shower.

8:15 pm — I start another pot of coffee.

I won’t have any from that one. 8:30, time to wake him up. I fix his cup and bring it to his bedside. He will text me “reheat coffee” and “top off coffee” several times over the next hour.

8:45, time to get his dinner plate, which I set aside earlier, heated up, and served.

9:00, I get his lunch ready and ask God to not let me forget anything or else… I also feel like one of the kids.

9:30 pm — he will be out the door

A feeling of freedom over takes me. I will send all the kids to bed, then eagerly open Ashley Madison to look for the messages received that day. Please let there be someone to take my mind away! I pray.

Any wonder why I need an escape?