I think I am bitchy today, no I'm only kidding, I know I am in full on bitch mode. I am trying to maintain my happy demeanor of supportive wife but it is wearing thin. Brad has worked every single day for the past several weeks. For the past fourteen days or so he has worked late. No big deal, I should be sympathetic and loving. I should cater to his every need and appreciate the stress he is under. I did, I swear for the first thirteen days. That is apparently my max.
I am a selfish brat who is only concerned with how the world affects me, no shit, the condition is called being human. My son has been a joy to be around. He's not being bad or too much to handle. My life is pretty much in order and I have gotten a lot accomplished over the past couple weeks. So why am I pissed that my husband is MIA? Damn it, I like our regular routine. I love when he and Turner play and have time together. But what is bothering me most is Brad's complete and total lack of concern over his over the top work schedule. He is pictured beside the definition of work-a-holic. I am bothered by how completely consumed he is by work. I am infuriated when the only conversation I have with him is the twenty second phone call I get daily to let me know he'll be late again. FYI: I know you're fucking busy and the world's most important person, but add an extra ten seconds on to your call and say you hate being there late, take the damn smile out of your voice, and even though it is not your fault, say you're sorry for never being home.
I hate how jolly he is when he calls to tell me he'll be late. Sound pissed off, fake it. Act like you'd rather be here with us instead of at work, aka your nirvana. I know you love your job. I know you're really good at what you do, but act like you like doing the whole "family thing" from time to time. Use some of the massive machinery that you are surrounded by and pull your head out of your ass and ask your wife how her day was every once in a while. Perhaps even ask how she is feeling, being that she's carrying your unborn child and all.
I know I wax poetic about what a good husband Brad is and what a fantastic father, none of that changes. He just hasn't been around to show me those shinning examples lately. Being in a constant state of very low grade pain is not helping my mood. My pelvic bone is killing me. I have eight weeks to go and my daughter is apparently already three feet tall. How else could this much pressure be exerted on my bones. The endless tedium of pregnancy is consuming my brain. Contractions come and go fifteen or twenty times a day, things are gearing up. I can't clear my head and I am impatient like no other. While all of this is going on there is also the drone of everyday life. I am just sour today. Boredom is not my forte.
I need something new to tackle. I taught my self the sew and made countless baby gifts, constructed a whole nursery set- mission complete. I am loosing the ability to do some of my normal activities, I am tired but I need something to fill my day with. Idle hands are the devils workshop, true. Bored housewives are the harbingers of chaos. The more I have to do, the more organized my life is. Empty days turn into unproductive days where nothing gets done. I need to be bombarded with tasks, then all of them seem important. When all I have to do in an entire day is care for my son, wash clothes and cook, I don't feel like doing the menial house work. Now let me be trying to build furniture or rearrange the house and I feel even more accomplished to complete my extra work and thrilled to do the day to day on top of it.
I wonder if all housewives go through these stints of complete and utter boredom with their job? I know it's titled burn out when you are a paid employee, but when your job is your house, it's called laziness. I often feel the need to go above and beyond. I like teaching myself new skills, partly because I like learning, partly because I feel the need to never be thought of as lazy. Sitting around eating bon-bons and watching soaps is not the identity I desire. I hate napping for this reason. I am compelled to do it on some days because I am tired from being pregnant. When not pregnant I try not to nap at all unless I have spent a sleepless night up with Turner.
So was there a point to my endless bitching? Not really. I married the man knowing his work ethic and work habits. I know that the "Steam blow" part of the job comes at the end. I know it also makes steam shoot from my ears. I know complete exhaustion makes Brad deliriously happy and he looses himself in his work. I know it will pass and we'll get back to normal. I know I will be thrilled to see him when he's walking through our door at six pm like he should be. Does any of this stop me from titling him "Stupid asshole" in my mental notes? No. Will I continue to grumble when the phone rings? Yep, just like he'll continue to sound entirely too damn happy when he is yelling over the job site noise that he's gonna be late again. Life is not meant to be perfect everyday. It makes the perfect days so much more special when they come after the days that leave you less than thrilled. So I await an honest to goodness weekend, one where my husband is mine and Turner's for two whole days. It will come, even if I have to go into labor and force him to take off a couple days til one of our parents gets here to help with Turner.
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