Monday, September 19, 2011

I Fell In Love With the Drummer

"No, Anderson, daddy's not home. Yes, his car is in the driveway, but he's not here. He's on a trip. He went in an airplane." "Daddy go to work, mommy?" "Something like that, baby. He went on tour to play music."

I knew what I was getting myself in to when I signed up to go along on this ride, it's just that now it's so different. Before kids it wasn't so much hard as it was just lonely. When Anderson was born and I was left to figure out how to be a parent by myself for 6 months was hard. Now, with 2 kids, it seems nearly impossible. You mean I have to get up, go to work, come home, relieve the nanny, do dinner, baths and bed all by myself? Without any help? This may just drive me to a bright corner of a nicely padded room where I get to where a slightly fashionable white coat with lots of zippers and buckles.

Gabe, I love you and all, but I do not like when you are away playing music. Why can't you be gone on a boring business trip like most husbands? You know, the kind where you work all day, eat dinner all by yourself in a restaurant and never even get to see the city in which you are staying for longer than the time it takes you to get from the hotel to the office and back? Instead you are always going on these fun trips with your friends, seeing new cities all over the world, meeting interesting people, spending your days sight-seeing and your nights playing music for people who have actually paid money to come hear the band.

OK, maybe I am glorifying it a bit. There have been more than a few not-so-glamorous trips and shows, but as I sit here by myself on the first day of your current week-long adventure, I type with a bit of resentment and I choose to not think about anything other than the fun you are having. I imagine you are enjoying your vegetarian enchiladas, hand crafted especially for you by Rick Bayless, while throngs of fans anxiously await your (well, maybe not your, so much as The Watson Twins) arrival at wherever it is that you will play.

I used to be the good wife. Though now that I think about it, it was really more when I was just your girlfriend trying to secure my position as wife. When you went on tour I made goody bags and left you sweet little notes throughout your luggage and drum cases. I called you constantly and I was genuinely interested in all of the details. Nowadays I can barely get a shower in, much less spend my nights baking cookies. I forget to write you notes until it is too late and I call you only to let you know who pooped on me today (Beck, of course). Oh, I still count the days until you come home, but now it is because I can't wait to hand over a baby or two and just get in my car and have a moment to myself. Even if it is only at the grocery.

I always get a kick out of it when people ask me what you do. "He's a musician" I tell them. "Wow, that's really cool", they ineveitably reply. No. Not really. At least not this week, anyway.

I miss you already. Be safe. Come home soon. Drop me a beat.

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