So, I have been thinking if I am serious about writing a book
it needs to be honest, right? I need to write about things that may be difficult. I
need to venture into territory that makes me uncomfortable and vulnerable. So little by little, I am opening up- because it
is good to be scared. After all, writing a book is baring your soul to the
(potential) world, right? Writing is about owning your thoughts and feelings
and opening them for public consumption…here goes nothing.
My handsome husband works his fucking ass off at work. Like
65 hours a week- balls to the wall. He is one of those people that truly believes
“if you want something done right then you have to do it yourself”. I don’t see
him. The kids see even less of him. Honestly, I feel like a single parent most
of the time. I am so annoyed most of the day that I have become bitter. I am exhausted,
bitter and let’s face it, I can be a bitch.
Today he texts me, “You have become a nagging ball of
self-serving animosity and bitterness.”
My reply, “I agree."
He thinks that I am an anomaly. He believes that there must
be millions of moms out there and that I am the ONLY one that has turned into a
crazy bitter bitch. Well, I watch enough tv, read enough blogs and listen to
enough NPR to know that I am without a doubt NOT alone. In fact, just today
there was a panel of SAHMs on an NPR program talking about the joys, struggles
and growing pains of being a full-time mom. I am not inventing the wheel, and I
don’t presume to think that I have any innovations to add to the wheel either.
My reply, “It’s not a trend. It is simply a fact. It's the
hardest god damned job out there and yet being a SAHM has no pay, so you are
still at the complete mercy of the provider to take care of you. While we all
agree its a vitally important role, it still takes a back seat to anyone else's
needs simply due to the fact that we don't earn income. Therefore, we are at
the mercy of the income earner.”
Yes, I write a lot in a text message. That’s why I cannot
Twitter…or Tweet…Twat. Whatever.
I continue, “You work all day making money and want to come home for a respite. Rest, relaxation and support, right?? Me too. That's all I want. Our needs are the same. I have verbalized that I don't feel I am getting that from you. You feel you are not getting that from me. That's the crux. We are just humans working our asses off. We all want the same things. We all deserve the same things. We only get out as much as we put in and currently neither of us is putting much into our marriage because we are exhausting our resources at our jobs.”
I continue, “You work all day making money and want to come home for a respite. Rest, relaxation and support, right?? Me too. That's all I want. Our needs are the same. I have verbalized that I don't feel I am getting that from you. You feel you are not getting that from me. That's the crux. We are just humans working our asses off. We all want the same things. We all deserve the same things. We only get out as much as we put in and currently neither of us is putting much into our marriage because we are exhausting our resources at our jobs.”
He still doesn’t reply…
I continue, “It's not earth shattering. It's not a new concept the world has never seen before. It's a commonality between most all couples with kids. We are not a science experiment to be studied. This is a struggle as old as time. How we handle the situation and evolve into our new roles is going to be what is important.”
Still, no reply. I assume he must be curing cancer from the
radio silence that I have received.
Continuing, “But, neither of us is going I feel complete and happy until we make sure we can meet our required needs. This is where communication and lots of compromise is vital.”
Continuing, “But, neither of us is going I feel complete and happy until we make sure we can meet our required needs. This is where communication and lots of compromise is vital.”
No reply. He is a man a few words anyways, so I am not
expecting some dissertation on the ideas surrounding marriage and family. But, he may as well have his
phone surgically attached to his hand, so I know the texts have been received; and
I assume he at least skimmed my thoughts on the matter.
I reply, “I love you.”
He responds, “You too.”
Me: “You know this is going to end up in a blog, right?”
Him: “Oh, my.”
xoxo
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