Although I love my long suffering husband very much, every now and then (ok daily at the mo) I hate him and want to punch him in the face. I feel sorry for the poor guy, but am positive that he feels exactly the same about me. Having a young family is bloody hard work, and I’m beginning to understand why many couples end up going their separate ways before the youngest has started school. There’s just so much to contend with already, and being nice to one another often takes a back seat.
This morning is a fine example – first off we were up at 5am which is not a great start. After being awake for over an hour 4yo wanted to make her breakfast, she played around and took ages in doing so. I went upstairs to get ready for work and the whole time I’m up there I can hear that she’s still messing about and not really eating her food. He’s getting really angry and then starts going on about what a waste this is, blah blah. She gets down from the table at this point and is now playing with her toys saying she wants to eat at nursery. I come downstairs and he’s fuming. I say that he should just let her go hungry and next time she’ll want to eat. He now gets peed off with me.
In the midst of all this I realise I am two minutes late leaving for work and will miss my train if I don’t run out the door right then. Help me please I say, but he’s still annoyed with me and doesn’t. I end up running out of the house muttering FFS quite loudly and promptly collide with an elderly gentleman neighbour on his morning stroll to get the paper. Oooops! Sorry I apologise, you didn’t need to hear that. He has a wry knowing grin on his face, one that says don’t worry, been there many a time myself dear.
Fortunately my memory isn’t up to much these days, and all is usually forgiven rather quickly. Had I not written just this post I probably would have forgotten the incident by now. I was very comforted recently by seeing an interview with married folk in their 80’s and 90’s – apparently the longest surviving couples bicker on a daily basis.