It’s a Wednesday evening, an evening we usually have nothing to do, where the anticipation of a quiet meal and enjoying some Netflix together in the same room is a pleasant change to our usual manic schedule.  More and more we find ourselves looking at things we would like to do together but invariably one of us says, no, I can’t, I have a (rehearsal, meeting, concert, conference).  So tonight I was looking forward to that evening together, especially since he said he wasn’t going to go to a concert tonight.  Little did I know he was going to bring the mistress home.

His text to me at the end of the day said “decided not to go to the concert tonight”.  How wonderful!  However, thanks to the wonders of technology, the Netflix is on pause while he is watching the streamed version of the concert he decided not to go to.  The mistress is still there, he just decided to bring her home.  So, here I sit, in my usual spot, looking at the paused screen, ten minutes left of a relatively tense episode and just at the exciting part he asks, “can I put this on pause until after the concert?”.  “That’s fine” I say.  After all, whats a girl to do?  Say no to him doing what he’s passionate about?  As he sits there, staring at his little screen, tapping his toes and nodding his head to the music, occasionally conducting, while wearing his red head phones with the blinking blue light looking like something out of Star Trek, he reminds me of one of the reasons I fell in love with him in the first place.  And also one of the reasons it makes me sad.

I recently wrote that music is not what we do, it is who we are and I believe it wholeheartedly.  I believe so strongly in music and music education for all children that I serve my professional organization and speak to teachers about its importance and how it changes the lives of children.  I get it.  And yet I don’t.  It is that continued love/hate relationship that has interrupted our lives more times than not.  Like the little girl in the Henry Wadsworth Longfellow poem, when it’s good, it’s very, very good and when it’s bad it’s horrid.

The other day, another band director friend of mine posted a cartoon to my feed.  It was a phone conversation between a band director and his wife after a basketball game.  The wife asks “did they win?” to which the husband answers yes.  “They did?  And they are moving to the playoffs?  That’s great!”  The standard band wife response.  However inside she’s thinking “dammit”.  I get it.  It’s part of the gig.  And this certainly isn’t the first time he’s brought her home or that I’ve had to work with her. I just don’t have to like it.

So this next week, my husband will be spending necessary time with the mistress.  A basketball pep band on Sunday, then leaving with the team on Tuesday for tournament play.  He’ll stay as long as they win.  Did I mention it’s my spring break?  So I’m making plans for a personal “staycation” complete with chick flicks, shopping, lunching and a pedi.  In a way this is good I suppose because after all these years, going on 39, I have finally learned to be somewhat independent.  Doesn’t mean I like it, but I’ve learned where my place is in the scheme of things and I can accept that.  And besides, the next week is his spring break and while I would love to do things with him, I won’t be able to because, oh, I have a conference to go to.  Two can play this game.