09 February 2007
I’m too good…
…and I’m paying for it. Why do I do this? I mean, c’mon. I’m smarter than this.

Marc is gone all day again. All Day. Like the morning he’ll be in Chalons, an hour and a half drive in one direction, and this afternoon he’ll be in Villiers-le-Sec, a good 30 minutes in the other direction. The afternoon is the annual meeting for the accounting firm—he’s on the board—and afterwards they’re having a nice buffet dinner for everyone, including the wives.

Am I going? No.

See, tonight he also has his singing thing going on, and as they’re meeting with the guy who’s going to teach them something on Sunday (another day he’ll be gone…again), he didn’t want to miss it.

And since I’m the one always stuck with finding a baby-sitter (can anyone say Uphill Battle, please), and because I’m more schnizzly than schnizzle, I said, “You know, if you’d rather go sing, then go sing.”

So Mr. Happier-than-happy took off this morning, after having stomped up and down the creaky, squeaky old wooden staircase three times and waking The Screamer two hours earlier than usual—and this after having kept me up until midnight because…I’m not really sure why he did that. He’ll do a drive by to pick up lunch (“Can you maybe make me a sandwich or something for tomorrow so I can eat something? Please.” he asks, in a voice more pitiful than pitiful), and he’ll make another pit stop for dinner.

Me, I’ve had hardly any sleep, the monkeys are wild (they haven’t slept enough either), I have an extra meal to prepare (Muppet, Tiggerette and I won’t be having sandwiches because that’s just bad parenting here), it’s bath night, I’ve got liquid fire runnin’ out my bum and a fever and I’m still knocked up. Life is grand. Oh, and I’ve got to have dinner on the table at the same time as the baths because He. Has. To. Go. Sing. Do I need to mention the battle with the older child when he leaves?

And I don’t want to complain. Really, I don’t. But the worst part of this whole day will be when he comes home. He’ll be in one of two moods: Mr. Grumpy-because-my-day-was-shit (like he can talk!) or Mr. Touchy-feely-let’s-get-it-on, which is about 180° and thousands of miles from while I am. Honestly neither of these men is really welcome in my life right now. Both of them set me on edge. The first one really needs no explanation because grumpy men are just dicks and everyone knows that. But that second guy, he really gets on my nerves because he Just Doesn’t Get IT. When I am tired, run ragged, pregnant and therefore VERY UNCOMFORTABLE ALL THE DAMN TIME, the very last thing I want to think about is sex. No, I want to curl up in a ball—or maybe not as even that’s not very comfy these days—and die, at least for a few uninterrupted hours.

Sleep and calm and peace are what I crave these days. And that means not having anyone, little or big, growing or grown, wanting or needing anything from me.
posted by Doc at 11:48 | Permalink |


  • At 16:24, Blogger Wendz

    I hear you.

    Fucking dicky men.

    oops sorry.

  • At 18:00, Blogger Nicole

    Despite your well-deserved rant, I think you are handling this incredibly well. If B had the good fortune to convince me that he needed a night out while I was swamped with the amount of work you have been doing, he would have to have balls of steel to dare ask me to cook for him. I kind of think your husband should be spending his time encouraging you to rest up, not inventing new ways to keep you running. I'm sure he's a lovely man or you wouldn't even think of doing all this for him, but he sounds completely clueless.

  • At 09:25, Blogger Linda

    Someone said all men are children and it can be so true. I think French men can be a little more needy than Americans but I only have one of each to compare. Men are truly clueless most of the time. Sometimes it helps to make a list of the good qualities of your husband and dwell on these. Marriage-besides parenting, the hardest job in the world.

  • At 19:40, Blogger Pardon My French

    Oh, it sounds like you really need and deserve some time to yourself...I've been whining about the whole sleep thing and I don't have to take care of 3 other people like you. You are my hero because I don't think I would be handling everything as well as you are. You *are* too good but I hope that you will be soon rewarded with some R&R. Sorry about the whole liquid fire/fever thing.

  • At 13:20, Blogger Melissa

    How do you do it? You are an angel and my personal role model. Keep your chin up and know that I'm sending my love your way. You are doing a fabulous job.