Unknown Name, Unknown Number.

That’s what the phone says when Mr. WG’s family calls from Israel. I never answer. Last night, literally seconds after Mr. WG left, I got one of those calls. I ignored it. Today, this morning, the phone rang again.

I looked at it, muttered something inappropriate, and answered.

“WG?”

“Yes.”

“Hello! How are you?”

“I’m fine, thank you, how are you?”

“So, nu, are you managing? Is it difficult?”

Now, mind you, Mr. WG has been gone for about 14 hours. For about 10 of those hours, the kids were sleeping. For about seven of those hours, I was sleeping.

“Um, no, it’s fine.”

“Oh! Well, I’m asking because, you know, you’re used to having Mr. WG around, and now he’s….”

“I do know how to manage on my own.”

“Of course you do! Of course you do! I TOTALLY trust you. I just know that, you know, it’s difficult. For you.”

A better person would probably think she was just trying to be nice. I, however, am not really a good person when you get down to it. I think she’s implying that I am incapable of functioning without her son here to bail me out.

Actually, things went quite smoothly this morning. And fairly smoothly last night. In fact, this morning, I took a picture of Z. in the kitchen at 7:14 a.m. to demonstrate that (1) the kitchen was clean (2) Z. was totally ready for school (3) there is no reason for Mr. WG to leave the kitchen looking like a bomb hit it every morning.

No one was impressed.