punch him in the throat
There is a secret that every man should know about understanding a woman: there is no way to understand a woman.
Women, as a rule, are a little contradictory. Most of my friends and I are completely aware of the fact that we don't make sense a lot of the time, and don't really make much of an effort to make our spouses feel like they are missing out on something. We pat them on the bums and say, "It's a chick thing - don't worry about it." (I swear - this saves marriages...) Honestly, how do we expect men to understand us, when we don't understand ourselves?
Think about this classic example: "I think these pants make me look fat." When the man is in earshot, that's a loaded statement there, ladies, and we know it. And yet, we sometimes can't help but engage, and really, there is no special formula for knowing whether, on any given day, we want a) a little ego stroking: "No, honey - you make Kate Moss look like a hog...." or b) the God honest truth: "Well, honestly they aren't the best pants on you," or c) silence: "~." Could be the colour of the sky, could be a good or a bad day, could be the fact toothpaste is on sale 2-for-1... Who ever knows? Truth is, *WE* don't even know, until the moment the man has commented, what we wanted to hear, at which point we either fall in over with him all over again, or hand him his binky so he will be warm on the couch.
The volatility of this situation escalates exponentially when you factor in the hormones of pregnancy and/or PMS. We're living, breathing, walking, ticking a-bombs.
I'm mad at my husband right now. Spitting mad. So mad, I want to punch him in the throat. So what did he do, you wonder. Well, he booked the week off between Christmas and New Year's in January of this year already. We've been looking forward to it the whole year, even if he was going to be losing out on a week's wages. This will be the first time we'e both had time off over the Christmas break so it's a pretty big deal to us both. So when the company told them they'd all get the week off WITH PAY if they caught up some extra work, the bastard volunteered to go on nights to make it happen. Now, for the record, I am NOT premenstrual, and I am NOT pregnant. For the record, I know my husband is doing this for the good of the family. For the record, I know it's only for a few weeks. For the record, I know he's covered off for me on more times than I can count when I've been dealing with clients and overtime at work. I KNOW all of this. And I am TRYING to remember this. Trying desperately, as a matter of fact, especially for tonight, for my staff dinner, since he LOVES going to the Faculty Club - it reminds him of time he spent there with his grandparents.
I haven't slept more than a couple of hours at a stretch since he's been on nights. I've taken to wearing his bathrobe to bed and having a drink at lights out, so maybe I can fall asleep by 2:00 a.m., because I just don't sleep when he's not home. As soon as the kids are in bed I kind of wander the house aimlessly, unable to focus on the mountains of work I have to tackle. My mind's such a muddle I can't even concentrate on a movie - I have to keep rewinding and watching a scene several times or ask the kids to explain it just so I can keep up with the story line. I sob over everything - I couldn't find a book on my desk where I thought I had left it and went into hysterics. If the kids weren't in school, I would probably be out until midnight every night with them visiting with friends and family just so I'm not alone. In short, I feel like I am falling apart at the seams.
If I was in an unhappy relationship, I might welcome all this freedom, and the time alone, and not having to answer to anyone for anything I do. As it stands, as ridiculous as it sounds, the last thing I want to do is go for dinner with my husband tonight, since I just have to drop him back off at work when we're done eating.
I miss my husband so much I want to punch him in the throat.
Women, as a rule, are a little contradictory. Most of my friends and I are completely aware of the fact that we don't make sense a lot of the time, and don't really make much of an effort to make our spouses feel like they are missing out on something. We pat them on the bums and say, "It's a chick thing - don't worry about it." (I swear - this saves marriages...) Honestly, how do we expect men to understand us, when we don't understand ourselves?
Think about this classic example: "I think these pants make me look fat." When the man is in earshot, that's a loaded statement there, ladies, and we know it. And yet, we sometimes can't help but engage, and really, there is no special formula for knowing whether, on any given day, we want a) a little ego stroking: "No, honey - you make Kate Moss look like a hog...." or b) the God honest truth: "Well, honestly they aren't the best pants on you," or c) silence: "~." Could be the colour of the sky, could be a good or a bad day, could be the fact toothpaste is on sale 2-for-1... Who ever knows? Truth is, *WE* don't even know, until the moment the man has commented, what we wanted to hear, at which point we either fall in over with him all over again, or hand him his binky so he will be warm on the couch.
The volatility of this situation escalates exponentially when you factor in the hormones of pregnancy and/or PMS. We're living, breathing, walking, ticking a-bombs.
I'm mad at my husband right now. Spitting mad. So mad, I want to punch him in the throat. So what did he do, you wonder. Well, he booked the week off between Christmas and New Year's in January of this year already. We've been looking forward to it the whole year, even if he was going to be losing out on a week's wages. This will be the first time we'e both had time off over the Christmas break so it's a pretty big deal to us both. So when the company told them they'd all get the week off WITH PAY if they caught up some extra work, the bastard volunteered to go on nights to make it happen. Now, for the record, I am NOT premenstrual, and I am NOT pregnant. For the record, I know my husband is doing this for the good of the family. For the record, I know it's only for a few weeks. For the record, I know he's covered off for me on more times than I can count when I've been dealing with clients and overtime at work. I KNOW all of this. And I am TRYING to remember this. Trying desperately, as a matter of fact, especially for tonight, for my staff dinner, since he LOVES going to the Faculty Club - it reminds him of time he spent there with his grandparents.
I haven't slept more than a couple of hours at a stretch since he's been on nights. I've taken to wearing his bathrobe to bed and having a drink at lights out, so maybe I can fall asleep by 2:00 a.m., because I just don't sleep when he's not home. As soon as the kids are in bed I kind of wander the house aimlessly, unable to focus on the mountains of work I have to tackle. My mind's such a muddle I can't even concentrate on a movie - I have to keep rewinding and watching a scene several times or ask the kids to explain it just so I can keep up with the story line. I sob over everything - I couldn't find a book on my desk where I thought I had left it and went into hysterics. If the kids weren't in school, I would probably be out until midnight every night with them visiting with friends and family just so I'm not alone. In short, I feel like I am falling apart at the seams.
If I was in an unhappy relationship, I might welcome all this freedom, and the time alone, and not having to answer to anyone for anything I do. As it stands, as ridiculous as it sounds, the last thing I want to do is go for dinner with my husband tonight, since I just have to drop him back off at work when we're done eating.
I miss my husband so much I want to punch him in the throat.
Comments
EIGHT SLEEPS!!!!
A