Month Forty-Three

vivid

Dear Husband,

For the shortest month of the year, February still felt like a long month. Especially because you were so tired. And cranky. I mean, not all the time obviously, but it was an over-arching theme. It was also not uncommon for you to come home after a full day at work and ask – do you mind if I go and lie down for an hour? Which inevitably meant you’d be out for about two hours and you’d wake up grumpy. Then I would see you for even less time than I would have otherwise. And despite what you may think, I do actually like to see you when you get home.

I like the fact that you work at the cafe too however. Even with the extra money going to the household (and you spending a significant amount of time out of the house), it’s something that you do for yourself. It’s almost like a hobby because you can afford to just walk away. Should you ever want to. And I’m not actually going anywhere with this. I’m not asking you to quit either of your jobs or find a different job but I’m hoping that you start to sleep better than you have been recently. I’m hoping that the quantity of time that you do spend with us is quality time. I’m also hoping that you can better manage your stress so it doesn’t pile up to the point that it boils over quite so much. Or maybe I should hope that you stop letting some things stress you in the first place?

I know you don’t suffer fools easily and you suffer hypocrites even less. You take someone else’s being a tool as a personal affront to your intelligence and therefore there was much talk of chicken shit this month. As an aside, I’m still trying to work out whether it is more correct to say that one acts like a chicken shit – which would beg the question why you would possibly liken someone’s actions to an inanimate piece of poultry poo – or whether something is considered to be chicken shit – and then why the chicken? Does it stem from the vernacular “chicken” as in coward? So it’s actually more like “chicken, shit!”. Just a thought.

Anyway, in your free time this month, you spent time worshiping the eBay deity and we are now in possession of more things for the Genibean. Nothing we’ve actually been able to use yet mind you, but we have more stuff just the same. I think you were very disappointed last week when you realised that we don’t actually need anything more for her at the moment. You looked quite crestfallen when I said I couldn’t think of anything else I wanted to buy. Then you decided to look for couches and a room divider bookshelf thingy though and you perked up again. Which produced a much nicer you than when you were trying to settle the Genibean and she was not having a bar of it. Btw, this does not mean she hates you, I promise.

Personally, I think it’s because she has your number. She knows when you’re at the end of your rope and so she gives it another tug. So after 15 minutes of her screaming, you give up and come storming up the hall, stomping your feet the whole way and barking at me “can you take her!” or “can you feed her!”. Both utterances being phrased like questions but remarkably somehow coming out as orders instead. And sometimes, yes, she is due for a feed and you don’t really have the equipment but sometimes she’s just being a baby. You don’t seem to realise that when you’re at work, I can spend hours trying to get her to sleep (or even be quiet) and getting frustrated doesn’t make the process go any faster. Of course, sometimes our roles are reversed and you are the one who provides blessed relief when I just can’t help her get her gas out.

And I like watching you with our daughter. Its occasionally frustrating when you tell me you’re running late so I have to get a move on and then you proceed to make silly faces at her for a couple of minutes but it’s very clear that you absolutely dote on her. I have noticed though that she helps you engage in your imaginary hearing, not to be confused with selective hearing which you do as well. She happened to go about 9 hours without peeing one day and as there is the rough guideline that they are supposed to have about 6 wet nappies in 24 hours, I made the comment to her that she had to pee every 2 hours to catch up. You turned around to chime in and said “thats right! You have to pee on mum every 2 hours!!”. That is not what I said. Good thing she didn’t listen to you.

The puppy didn’t listen to you either when you said “no nut butts!!”. He still manages to hit you where it hurts on a semi regular basis. I maintain however that getting knackered by the 50kg dog is totally your own fault. If you roughhouse like that, someone is bound to get hurt and as you are the only “person” in that scenario, the “someone” has to be you. One might also question the logic of standing with your legs either side of the beast that stands over a meter tall but there you go.

So now I’m looking forward to March. In theory, your new 8am starts at work will mean you have more time for walks in the afternoon. The wine weekend away will relax you more than anything in Sydney can. I will be one month more into motherhood and able to get a bit more of the house in order and the dog, well he might listen to us one of these days when we ask him to do something he doesn’t want to do. In theory.

More than theoretically yours,

Your Loving Wife

* Photo taken at the Vivid Festival last year

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