holding pattern

The last I shared, the Sober Husband acted checked out of our family vacation, distracted and silent. The children and I had a good time without his participation... until he skipped having dinner with us and I found him mesmerized by the mother of Lucy's new friend. I went into an icy rage. His excuse for this behavior was that he had vague problems with me that he "could not articulate." I informed him that being married to him was an option, not an obligation, and said I wanted a trial separation. So what happened next?

Driving back we made record time in silence in the car (apart from the occasional "Lucy's hogging the armrest" and "How much looonger" from the backseat). We unloaded the car in virtual silence, reunited with the cats (Princess Henry was especially pleased to see us), and skimmed the mail as the children darted off to catch up on their television watching. I plunged back into the World of Warcraft. The Sober Husband, in a surprising move at reconciliation, cleaned the litterboxes (the only time he has ever done that when I wasn't pregnant. Even when I was recovering from abdominal surgery he wouldn't do it). We spoke very little.

The next day was Father's Day, and I couldn't throw him out. I didn't acknowledge Father's Day myself, having already given him his traditional gift (a $250 buy-in to the annual Dads' Poker Night at Iris's school). The children made him presents and gave him cards I'd helped them buy before we left town. I really didn't interact with him much, which was assisted by the fact that my car somehow had both front tires severely damaged (a welcome back gift from the sociopathic contractor, who looked displeased to see us unload our U-haul, or residual damage from some rocks at Camp Mather?). The Sober Husband volunteered to get the tires replaced. In the afternoon, I proposed to the children that we catch the last few hours of RoboGames. I wanted to go without the Sober Husband, but he insinuated himself (acting weirdly cheerful) and I couldn't pick a fight in front of the children on Father's Day. At the Robogames, Lucy ran into a little friend from pre-k (Lucy is easily becoming the most popular of the family), and Iris and I delighted in watching robot combat. I could watch robots fight all day.

At night, when the children were watching "The Simpsons" and "King of the Hill", I had a talk with the Sober Husband. I reiterated what I'd said earlier and asked him to leave for a while. I pressured him to tell me what his "problems he couldn't articulate" were. All he came up with was "sometimes I think you drink too much." My response to that was (1) duh! I'll cop to that, but (2) my drinking is the same now as when he married me, and he liked it then, and (3) I'm obviously not an alcoholic since I stop drinking with no problem when I'm pregnant or sick, and (4) he didn't even notice or appreciate that actually I'd been drinking very little the last few months (I've cut way back on my drinking because I'm following the Weight Watchers program. Every drink must be accounted for and compensated for with a commensurate reduction in food).

On Monday the Sober Husband left a message saying that he'd be coming home in the early evening to pick up a few things. I made a call and booked us for marriage counseling on Thurs. When he came in, he helped me finish putting away the laundry and change all the sheets. He also made a big point out of pouring us both a glass of sparkling wine and saying perkily that he felt it would do him good to have a glass with me more often. I expected him to leave when our pizzas arrived (I told the children that if they could clean their room without arguing, I'd order pizza), but he lingered. He told me that "the only really terrible thing about not being here is explaining to the girls", which instantly made tears well up in my eyes. "That's a tactless remark!" The Sober Husband tried to smooth over that, saying that of course he'd miss me.

The girls and I were very tired, so I put them and myself to bed abnormally early, letting Lucy sleep in the big bed with me ("sleep-over with Mommy" is a prized occurrence). In the morning the Sober Husband woke me up by bringing me a cup of coffee, which I was too sleepy to drink. Much later I trailed downstairs and said, "You aren't supposed to be here!" We both came close to laughing over that.

I did, however, have another serious talk with him. I pushed him to tell me what was so terribly wrong with me that he couldn't interact with me, and he came up dry. All he could say was that one night at dinner he felt disgusted by me pouring myself a glass of wine and couldn't look me in the eye. I pointed out that the woman he'd been so fascinated by had been sucking down Coronas. I offered to him an article in a recent New Yorker about drinking and hangovers, by dance critic Joan Acocella of all people, telling him how much some of the quotes about drinking had resonated with me (did y'all remember that the Bible contains a proverb commanding people to buy wine for the poor, so that they may have fun and forget their problems?). He admitted that he had loved having cocktails with me when we were dating and also that he hadn't noticed that I'd been drinking so seldom lately. He also said that he felt that any problems that he might have with me were "a red herring" and that the focus should be on how he had admittedly been "acting like an asshole" for some time towards me.

The Sober Husband said that he was grateful I'd let him go along on the Robogames expedition and how precious it had been to him to have that family outing. I acidulously observed that he had shown no interest whatsoever in being with his family on our vacation, and he said that it wasn't until he was threatened with losing it that it became obvious how valuable it was.

I admitted that I felt unsure about what to do and asked him to just keep away for a couple of days, as opposed to a lengthy or open-ended separation. I'll see him again at counseling.