In the annals of husbandom, I am sure there must be some advice along the lines of what not to say to your wife.
Things like, "I found a new babysitter, and she's totally hot." "Those pants make your ass look huge." "My mother never did it that way." "Try it, just for a second." "Did our neighbor get a boob job? Because she looks fantastic." "She's not that pretty, you know? She kinda looks like you."
Tonight, however, my husband takes the cake. Now, he's had a long week, as he's been working alot. Was it sort of my request? Yeah. But at the same time, I have handled the other end of things so that all he has had to do when he gets home is hang out in our room and take the occasional "he hit me first" report. I figure it's only fair. Work hard, rest alot. (I realize he probably has a different take on this, but this is my story. :p)
Tonight, I was wrapping presents on our bed. We'd gotten Ryan and Audrey through their baths, and I was chatting with him. We'd done the daily rundown, so it was just really chit chat, as I talked to him about some of the presents and whatnot.
The kids have been pretty excited; all week each night has become a new exercise in patience for me; so much so that the bedtime has gotten earlier and earlier. Tonight being their first night of break, they were totally wound up. In and out of the room, bickering in the living room...and after the last time Audrey came through, with some new, imagined/real complaint, I said to Mr W as she left the room:
"Tell me it's not exhausting, listening to her."
"Yes, it is.." he said as I inwardly jumped for joy, that he got it. I turned my shoulder his way, anticipating that little pat on the back. Instead, he went on: "It's exhausting listening to him, him, him, her, and you."
"Excuse me? Did you say 'you'? Are you including me in on that?"
I flip him off with a vehemence I usually reserve for my time in traffic. I think he's kidding, but then he goes on:
"I know, Anna, that you are here with them alone all day, (no way, I can't believe he's saying this) and when I get home you are just happy to be talking to an adult..."
"No, shut up. Seriously. STOP. TALKING. NOW. This would be a good time for you to just shut up." I said to him, incredulous.
I can't believe he said that. Especially since I am really good, or I try to be, about not pouncing on him the second he walks in the door with tales of Mommy horror. I flash him, I get him a soda, then I tell him, for example, how Ryan's teacher called to let me know Ryan wasn't behaving in class that day. So what if some of it is happiness at seeing another adult? Did he miss the part where I showed him my boobs? Jackass.
I finished wrapping what I had out in silence. I chucked the rest of the wrapping for that moment, and left the room, turning out the light on my way out (he was watching tv).
I haven't spoken another word to him tonight.
Which is exactly what he wanted. He's sleeping, so it hardly matters.
Whatever. I'm working tomorrow.
We'll see how he's doing when I get home.
That is, if I don't forget to make a turn, and wind up in Mexico.