The One Without the Patience

A successful coach needs a patient wife, loyal dog, and great quarterback - and not necessarily in that order. -- Bud Grant

In our case, that would be a great pitcher instead of quarterback. And I'm working on the patient part.

Sort of.

I've always said that in the instance of the Proverbs 31 standard, patience has never been one of my virtues. (I can seriously hear my mother shouting "AMEN!" from 100 miles away.)

Last night I decided to try my hand at homemade pizza dough. I discovered a great vegan website absolutely full of delicious-looking recipes, and found one for a quick-and-easy pizza dough. I've never used active yeast before, so I was a little nervous. But 15 minutes later, the yummy smell of dough filled the house and I couldn't wait for Matt to get home from practice to have dinner.

I think it's a rule that on Friday nights you have to have pizza.

Anyway, I was expecting Matt home at 7:00. Well, that came and went. But you know how many times I went to the window to see if his truck was coming up the road?

Let's just say it was a lot. I'm really pathetic sometimes.

At 7:30 I decided to eat without him because the pizza was getting cold. And of course, the minute I took a bite he walked in the door. Turns out it was a good thing I decided not to wait - he was so exhausted from his week (practice, going to our district basketball games, unloading a truckload of dirt for the baseball field) that he went straight to sleep and didn't want anything to eat.

You'd think that after more than six years of being married to a coach, I wouldn't stand by the window watching for him to come home. He usually gets home at 7:00, but that is not a solid, defined time. It is absolutely subject to change every single day. And he's told me time and time again that it's perfectly ok to eat dinner before he gets home - he knows I don't like to eat after 7pm. But it just feels weird, like I'm not taking care of him or something. To which he tells me he doesn't need anyone to take care of him - that if dinner is cold he'll just warm it up. Or if he doesn't like what I make, he'll make something on his own. That he's a big boy.

My husband is totally liberated.

And I imagine that most women would be happy to not have a husband who is totally needy and dependant on them. And for the most part, I am. But I still like to make sure he eats a decent dinner (chicken nuggets and fries are not a decent meal) and feels ok and had a good day.

My number one struggle is - still, after six years - suppressing the urge to pick up the phone and turn into that annoying, nagging wife with the "Are you on your way home? Do you know what time you'll get home? You're seriously still at the field?!?!?" calls. I refuse to be that sort of wife. As the above quote states, a good coach has to have a patient, understanding wife - one that is perfectly ok with his nuts-o schedule and has a life of her own to fill the time. The last thing a good coach needs is the pressure of knowing his wife is waiting at home, foot tapping, wondering where in the world he's been if he's five minutes past 7:00 - and the minute he walks in the door asking things like, "What took so long? Do you still like me? Are you mad at me?"

Do you really think he wants to come home to that?

He has enough things to worry about. The poor guy was sound asleep by 9:30 last night and then had to get up early this morning to go spread the new dirt on the field...and after that is practice - until 3:00 this afternoon. Kinda makes me glad I don't play organized sports. I'm still in my pajamas.

Today I'm keeping myself occupied by cleaning the house and rearranging the living room. Matt loves it when I rearrange the furniture every other day, especially when he comes home and it's dark and he trips over the sofa that used to be on the other side of the room.

The things I do to make his life easier. He's so lucky.

And about the patience thing? I'm working on it. Despite 100000 trips to the window between 7:00 and 7:30 last night, I'm working on it.