The Grass is Always Greener

I love my husband. I love my husband. I love my husband. I love my husband. I love my husband. I love my husband. I love my husband. I love my husband. I love my husband. I love my husband. I love my husband. I love my husband. I love my husband. I love my husband. I love my husband. I love my husband.

But I want to just yank his hair (of course I can't, because the damn (*R$^#*$(&# is bald), and scream "What do you do while I'm gone?? Anything?? At all?"

Lovely day, he comes home early from work*, at about 4:30. I'm in the midst of thinking about what to make for dinner, starting to prepare stuff. We have the regular chit chat, blah blah, and he asks "So, you're just working on dinner?" To which I reply that, yes, I am, but if he doesn't mind, I'd like to run an errand before hand, and that it'll just take a minute. The rug rats are playing on the kitchen floor, just minutes away from early evening meltdown, and I know it's a good time to escape.

"Sure," he says. "Just let me send a few emails, and then I'll take the babes."

A few emails turns into a computer that doesn't work right, and he's never seen from again, until I tell him dinner is ready. It's early tonight, since I have a meeting at 7:00.

We sit the babies at the table with us, for the first time. Honestly, we don't eat at the table much. We normally sit at the island, and we normally have dinner after they've gone to bed. But we have fun, as the babies work on some tiny cooked carrot pieces, making a completely vulgar mess of it all.

After dinner, I get most of the dishes cleaned up, load the dishwasher, and leave the bigger pots and pans sitting stacked right next to the sink. We give the babies their last bottle and take them up to bed. At which time my exit for my meeting. Lovely, the babies are asleep, it's not like I'm putting anyone out at all. For my once every two weeks meeting that I thoroughly enjoy.

I get home at 9:30, on a feel-good high, just very contented about the world, my world, etc. It's lovely when a meeting also includes wine, isn't it? But either way, a few hours with some friends, away from the grind of daily life is refreshing.

As soon as the key turns in the lock, MyBoy starts screaming. He's been asleep for two hours, not a peep while I'm gone, and now, he starts screaming. I walk back to find J lolling on the couch.

The bottles from the feeding are still sitting where I left them. The baby's toys are scattered where they fell earlier in the evening. The dinner pans are still stacked neatly by the sink. Where I left them. The formula is not made for tomorrow. And the baby is still screaming.

I head towards the stairs, and J asks me "Don't you just want to let him work it out himself?" To which I growl, and head over to the sink, where I start washing dishes, and putting things away. Rather noisily, of course. He finally asks me if something is wrong.

Are you kidding??

For God's sake. I get this one night out, twice a month, and he can't do a goddamn thing while I'm gone. More and more, I sense him falling into the Me Work You Clean House caveman attitude. We've always been a couple that splits duties, filling in where the other can't. I do stuff around the house, I pay the bills, he does his own laundry, takes care of the children, etc. We've never been tied to labels and roles, and I fear that this is the path he is headed down. And I'm not following.

I can't not do the work (excuse the double negative, a pet peeve of mine), because I hate to wake up to a house full of the previous evening's mess, but I don't want to be a nag on him. I've tried, and it simply doesn't work for him. But he's gone much of the day, and it doesn't bother him. But I refuse to be his maid.

Or his mother.

* Since just previous to the birth of the babes, J has worked at home. It has been an arrangement that suited well while trying to deal with this new life. But more and more lately, more of the childcare has fallen to me, which is okay. Someone needs to be the primary caretaker for the children, and I'd prefer it be me. Splitting it is too hard. And too often, he'd be up in his office while I'm desperately dealing with two screaming babies, and my anger towards him grows, for being there but not helping me. Because he's working. We decided that he'd start working more at his office (nearby, and he can come and go as he pleases). This allows me to "run things" more as I prefer, i.e. not picking the babies up from a nap when they start crying after 3o minutes when I know they'll really sleep more, etc. But now I'm really feeling the effects of being a true stay at home mom, alone with my kids all day.