crisis day

Last day of Hanukah holiday, and I celebrated by sleeping in again. Have been enjoying decadence of going to bed after 1am every nite and rising between 10 and 11am. Tomorrow we're back to 7am agony: drag out of bed, wake kid, make coffee, throw together her breakfast, prepare her lunch bag. Hurry her along with hair, teeth, schoolbag, etc. etc. and push her (plus mr. s, the driver) out the door by 7:55 so they will get to school by 8:15 (morning traffic through to the other side of the burb's a bitch). Last night I had a bad dream that I was pregnant with another kid; interesting that it was the thought of the night-feedings that horrified me the most.

So I got up this morning, and the first words out of mr. s (who chooses to wait for me to run the espresso machine, therefore had already been up for 2 hours with no coffee) were not "good morning," but "That's what makes me mad," referring to my sleep-in, which can happen only on holidays, of course. The point, clearly, was that I should have been up at dawn and on the street with a sign on me saying, "Hire me." Now THAT would have been a useful way to spend the past 2 hours.

Apparently oblivious to my efforts of the past two months, he proceeded to go into his standard tirade about my irresponsible attitude to our economic situation, claiming I contribute nothing (since it's not money) and all the weight is on his shoulders. On and on and on. I do not respond well to this approach.

What makes me furious when he does this, instead of sympathetic to his obvious stress, is that he is, in effect, blind to everything I've endured (in an attempt to find work) seemingly because I don't appear to be upset about the situation. If I were wailing, he would be comforting me, but because I am calmly going about my day, he's incensed. He even said, "I know this will irritate you, but you really should have stayed with [royal jelly witch]."

"Oh," I answered, "you mean the one I'm still having nightmares about? Are you nuts?"

It's true. I still get the heeby-jeebies when I think of being in the same room with her. That week was the longest month of my life. I still feel like she's sticking pins in a voodoo doll of me.

So the day went on like that, mostly with me screaming at him to leave me alone, and wishing to hell I could divorce him. After a while, he could see that his day wasn't going to be too hot either if he didn't back off, so he tried to placate me, but I wasn't giving a millimeter. He was out in the cold till the evening, when I went grocery shopping and spent a bundle knowing he wouldn't say a word.

Things are calmer now.

There are those of you reading who may think I'm pretty childish to plod along while things are quiet, only to dream of divorce when things are not going my way; and perhaps others who think I should just dump the jerk already. Both views are wrong, I think, in their oversimplification. As much as we might wish to make a great and mature partnership in marriage, probably the majority of us don't succeed in that, not without decades of friction, certainly, sometimes never. When they say marriage is hard work, they mean it's a whole lotta "suckin' it up." Biting the bullet. Getting squeezed between a rock and a hard place. Who isn't going to feel immature a lot of the time? The demands of marriage push every self-centered button you've ever seen -- and parenthood finds a whole new set you didn't ever want to acknowledge.

I really hate it a lot of the time. But, like Israel in the summer vs. Toronto in the winter, the alternative is no picnic either.