My Husband the Phone Stalker

Despite my grumbling, there are a couple parent groups I haven't dropped yet.  One of them is a mentor program.  Anyone is welcome, but it's mostly geared towards very young moms and unexpected pregnancies.  Ignoring the fact that I probably shouldn't be any kind of mentor to anyone, much less a parenting mentor, I really like this group.  It makes me feel useful and productive.  Also, it only meets once a month, which is noncommittal enough, even for me.  I'm on a call any time list, but I don't have to worry too much about actual meetings.  Plus, it gives Pie a chance to play with other kids.

I have an alarm clock, but since I very rarely have anywhere to be in the mornings, I hardly ever use it.  Most of the time, I wake up on my own, otherwise, Pie knows to wake me when she gets up.  Her new method is less than endearing, but it worked this morning.  I sat up quickly, the minute her wet little finger entered my ear.  This really needs to stop.  I was about to yell at her, but I noticed the clock--10:30.  Shit.  My mentor group was meeting at 11, and it's one of the few I haven't been ostracized from yet.  I scrambled to get myself and Pie reasonably presentable as quickly as possible, which pretty much means I brushed my teeth, slapped on some deoderant, grabbed the first clean clothes I saw, and left looking like a complete bum. 

I stumbled into the meeting five minutes late and half out of breath.  Everyone was seated at a table, with the kids and one mom off playing in the corner.  It dawned on me that I wasn't just late to the meeting, there was a speaker today.  So much for inconspicuously sneaking in.  I settled in at the table as quickly as possible, so the speaker could get back to her business.

She talked about the warning signs of abuse, at one point mentioning things that may seem romantic, like calling all the time just to hear your voice.  After talking about the early phase, she went into some of the other phases, talked about having an escape plan, then opened it up to the moms for discussion.  Over half the people there had some sort of story, which made me both sad, and extra appreciative of George who really is a fantastic husband.  In the middle of hearing from a fifteen year old who has apparently had a very tough life, my phone rang.

Crap!  I usually put it on vibrate for these sort of things, but in the morning rush, I'd forgotten.  I fumbled to hit ignore, without looking at it.  A few seconds later, it started again.  I hit ignore without looking again and offered everyone an embarrassed, apologetic half-smile.  The girl went back to her story, when my phone rang for the third time.  I looked down.  It was the husband.

My husband almost never calls me.  Maybe a few times a month, usually to remind me to grab something from the store or to let me know he'll be at work late, but never just to chat.  In ten years, he never has, and that's fine.  When we left the house this morning, he was asleep.  We're a one car family, so I figure he's probably calling to see where we are and when we'll be home.  I quickly texted him that I'm in a meeting and would call him in a few minutes.  It seemed to work, and I pushed my mind back to the meeting, then--

Ring!

"Oh, come on!" I muttered half to myself, starting to get irritated.  "Excuse me," I said, everyone's eyes back on me.  I answered the phone, "Hello?"

"Hey, Bean!  Where ya at?"

"I'm in a meeting.  I'll call you back in a few minutes."

"What kind of meeting?  And where's my shirt?"

Everyone was still staring, and I tried to force my irritation down my throat.  "I'll call you back in ten minutes."  At this point, I'm pretty sure he could hear the annoyance.

"Okay.  Love you!"

"Love you too..."

"Stalker!" the girl next to me shouted, and everyone started laughing.  At least I'm good for lightening the mood.

ETA:  I just asked him if I could post the picture of him doing the smolder to make up for making my group think he's a phone stalker.  He said no.  I asked him if I could at least post it on facebook.  He said no again. Sorry, Jenn.