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It had to happen sooner or later. All things considered, it was for the best that it took place when it did, which was at night, long after the children had gone to sleep.
There was a blow up, because with him there frequently is a blow up. There rarely can be a discussion of anything without a blow up.
In the past, I’d warned him that if he could not be civil and respectful in this house, I would ask him to leave. Those warnings had come after our disagreements, when he’d settled down from whatever fit had sent him spinning out of control.
After his fits, he tends to be very apologetic. He promises that he’ll “try harder” to keep a civil tongue next time. He vows that he’ll never again give me reason even to consider asking him to leave the house when he’s in charge of the children.
And yet that night when I confronted him about a bit of snark he’d leveled at me in front of the children (when I was officially off duty and just passing through on my way from one errand to the next), he could not stay civil.
When I confronted him he raised his voice. He used profanity. He mocked and taunted while I was speaking in the same way that saucy children do.
I warned him at least twice that I expected him to be polite and respectful in his interactions with me. He continued to be neither polite nor respectful.
And so I told him to leave. He questioned my ability to “make” him leave. I pointed out the cell phone in my hand, and promised that I would call for assistance in getting him to leave.
He left, flinging behind him various comments about my parenting ability, priorities and et cetera. But before he left, I asked for and received back the keys to the house, which I’d allowed him to keep as long as he was being reasonable and respectful when here.
It was very very ugly, as I’m sure you can imagine.
As I expected, he called to apologize the next morning. Well, he sort of apologized. He apologized and then pointed out how I’d provoked him into exploding. It’s always my fault that he gets angry, you see. This is a part of the pattern too.
Then, as per the usual, he accused me of never wanting to take any blame for how things went wrong. He ended the performance with his standard finale, a hearty rendition of “You Always Overreact!”
He is nothing if not predictable. Not that the predictability factor makes it any less painful or difficult or stressful.
It’s horribly painful and difficult and stressful…but at least I have my key back. I suppose that’s something.

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