There is a constant battle in our house at the moment.

Most of the time it’s rather one-sided seeing as my husband has been working ridiculous hours coming home long after the kids are in bed.  I do know for sure that he is working, I have no doubts on that score, fidelity is not even remotely being called into question here.

The battle lines are being drawn about ‘stuff around the house’. Hubby feels like he has carte blanche to work the hours he needs to (without discussing it with me) because he’s the major breadwinner (at the moment). I get this completely, and I am 100 % supportive. The only time I whine about stuff, is when he says “I’m on my way home now” and then spends another 2 hours at the office finishing off a document etc. My expectations are being raised and then disappointed – hence the whining. If he tells me, “this week is going to be tough” then I am prepared for it.

He gets to go to his very stressful corporate job, after dropping one of the kiddos at school, and then shut out the rest of his life completely and get on with his job. I’m pretty sure there are some other WAHMs out there who will agree with me, that this sounds like a freakin’ luxury to me. Now I know that stress isn’t luxurious by any means, and I’m sure that the hubby has his fair share of stress, and interruptions and what not, but still, he doesn’t have to spend even 0.00023 nano seconds worrying about managing his time, so that he can:

• remember to shop for the birthday present for Child A’s party this weekend (and remember wrapping paper and extra sellotape)
• know the exact contents of the fridge and how long these items will keep the family fed, and which meals are going to be prepared and when
• do the dishes, and remember to ring the dishwasher repair guy to hurry up on the quote to fix the damn dishwasher
• remember to go to the pharmacy because the brilliant saline nosedrops for the kids ran out last night and it’s flu season. (the drops keeps the runny noses from developing into month long chesty coughs)
• do the laundry, in between running errands to the grocery store, the school run, the extra murals, and oh yes, BUILD A CAREER

I feel, largely, at the moment, that because I’m doing the evening routine with the kids SOLO 99.9% of the time, that he should be helpful in the morning, by making the kids lunches, getting them dressed (they’re very cooperative – it’s not difficult), yet I still get up sometimes 90 minutes earlier than him, TO WORK.

Then I wake him with freshly brewed coffee. However, he then expects ME to help him with the kids and says “You’re just sitting at your computer, can’t you help me or something?” – in an irritated tone. Which makes me want to LOSE-MY-FREAKIN’-SHIT.

I am so, so SO sick and tired of being swept aside as unimportant, to be made to feel that my needs are somehow less pressing than his. That his job should rule all our lives and that we are at the constant mercy of his schedule, and that he doesn’t compensate for this by either getting up a bit earlier to lessen the stress on everyone. As it is, he comes home and is usually in bed a good 1-2 hours before me too. Shame. So stressed out. Poor poor hubby. I’m sorry for the sarcastic tone here, because damnit, I *don’t* know the stress of dealing with billion dollar deals and the volatility of the international marketplace and yadda yadda. But I DO know the stress of trying to keep four lives running smoothly, singlehandedly, all whilst trying to find the time to build my own career, see to my own clients, and have some kind of life for myself. I do not want to be someone who is completely taken care of financially, I *want* to earn my own money, because I don’t like anyone trying to tell me what to do with MY money.  I do think that on the whole women are starting to realise that dependence on a guy is a very precarious thing, and this is why we see so many women starting their own businesses and doin’ it for themselves. (wiggles hips and sings song by Destiny’s Child)…all the momma’s who earn the dollars, show your hands up at me, all the hunnies makin’ money, show your hands up at me.

Anyway, so this morning we had a rather large argument, about who does more. I hate arguing. Like really. Especially when it gets so heated. Incidentally, I refuse to argue in front of my kids, as in I will completely ignore the other guilty party and shut my ears if they dare and try to continue arguing in front of the kids and I will only engage the kids in conversation, and goof around with them, until they are busy in another room absorbed in another activity. I realise that no arguing is ever healthy, but I do try to minimize the impact on the kids.  As long as they see us apologizing to one another later, I actually think that it can be a a good thing. i.e. an argument doesn’t have to mean it’s the end of everything, everytime.

What I also hate is when one party doesn’t play fair. When I argue, I don’t raise my voice, I go for the logical debate, and of course, the other party being male and not half as mature as me, goes for the low road, the name-calling, the raised voice and frankly, the ‘dredging up the past’ routine, that makes me SO unbelievably tired.

So, we had a big argument this morning. It was the same old same old. He wanted help with the kids, and I wanted to take a bath and get ready after having gotten up at 5am to work till 6h30 (after having done the evening routine alone last night again), then woken him with coffee at 6h30 at which point he was huffing and puffing and asking for help with the kids, and saying that I was being unfair and slacking off as a mother…and after all he was so tired and stressed and well you know the rest.

So we parted on rather silent terms.

Then about an hour later, after having had my breathing space, as usual, I began to see the bigger picture, something that I despair of him ever getting sight of, and I decided that I was going to do something nice for him. Nothing like fighting fire with water eh?

So, I went and bought one of those stainless steel travel mugs, made soup at home and filled it. Made hot buttered toast cut into strips and wrapped in foil to keep warm. I also added a tupperware with two sections, filled one half with croutons, and the other with a dollop of sour cream. I added a plastic spoon, some paper napkins, packed the whole lot in a thermal bag to keep it warm and went and delivered it to his work. I just dropped it at reception, asked them to tell him it was there, and left.

Call me a sucker, call me weak, call me stupid for letting him be ‘rewarded’ for bad behaviour. I call it the fucking high road.

Plus, my phone has been ringing off the hook for the last hour, and gosh would you look at that, I’m too busy to answer.

_______

Updated to add: He got home *BEFORE* me, at 16h30 on a Friday afternoon, and he’d brought fish and chips!! Yay! We have at least achieved detente!

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