Some Women Set Fire to Their Bras. Not Me.

So then hubby boo is late for, of all things, a scuba diving lesson - huh? When did this come about? I swear, of all the people who know what's going on in hubby boo's life, I am not one of them! On top of that, he is unreachable for the whole day, not just a a few hours. It occurs to me that his life has not changed much since children, but mine has completely.

So while I am stewing all day trying to get in touch while a business partner waits patiently to start an obviously forgotten meeting, I realise that the difference with me now and how I might have reacted five years ago, is that I'm less outwardly emotional and more likely to say my piece.

And while I am thinking, there is no point in turning this into a finger-pointing exercise where I cry and whinge about my long-lost freedoms (I can do that on my blog), I decide I shall be very calm but to the point.

Then hubby boo comes home with an earache. He came up out of the water too fast. And a sore back. And he's damn tired. And he knows I'm pissed by the sight of my jowls on the ground. And while he talks about the scary bits and the fun bits about scuba diving and wonders if I may be interested in trying it out, I wonder to myself, when will I ever go scuba diving, and why doesn't he know this about me?

He knows that if I had an extra half hour I would try my best to be seated with a coffee for that duration. Any other distraction like conversation or tv or people watching can also. He knows that I scoff at willingly staying in the humid, hot outdoors (though I rather like the rain) when aircon and civility beckon through openable doors. He knows that if I were to spend any time at the sea it would be for the restorative fresh air, the warming and tanning sun, the refreshing water and opportunity to check out skimpily-clads and of course, the exfolitating qualities of the sand. Not for getting close to sea creatures or for examining the lovely oils-slicks that have turned to gunk on the sea bed. Not to play with pressure and oxygen and risk inhaling water and exploding a lung. Not for having to do things with a buddy and making sure one or the other doesn't die of the other's little mistakes. No, not at all.

So when he hands me a scuba diving manual and asks me to take a look, it takes everything inside me not to put a match to it. I kindly put it down and look into his eyes, and there I see someone trying to make good, even if he doesn't really know why Mama-With-The-Jowls-On-The-Floor has come out tonight. He knows there's something wrong, and vaguely guesses he has something to do with it. I realise the manual is both a peace-offering and a buffer between unknowing male and explosive female. And I can see there's an apology if I want it, but I'm still upset and not wanting to start a rant and have it all end with a headachey monster man going to sleep pissed, and a soggy mama zombie waking up with puffy eyes. Plus I don't like being offered an apology when understanding is missing.

So I tell him there's food and that he should check if it's normal to have strong earache after diving. We watched CSI for a while, but unfortunately he slept through the bits where they explained why the wife killed the guy after all those years of suffering. Then he woke up, groaning about his sore shoulders and could I please massage them? Lower? Higher?

I keep telling myself I'm not patient, but I now know I am. I'm as patient as time, as still inside as granite, as solid and cool as a rock.

I think all this patience is giving me high blood pressure, or some condition that is bilious in nature. A grand, old-fashioned heart-to-heart is on the books and I'm sensing relief from distance caused by work, sleeping schedules and tiredness.

And knowing hubby boo, all my fears and frustrations will have been for naught and my cup shall runneth over with love, and understanding and support for a decent while. So as I sip on my coffee and wait for the sleeping prince to awake before my meeting, I wonder if I should make an appointment with him to guarantee my time. Then I think of our poor forgotten business partner and think, there aren't any. We just keep on keeping on, sometimes we go with the flow, others, we stand our ground.

My instinct was to stand my ground last night, but experience tells me I need more time to let irrationality and anger to subside before I speak my mind.

My bras are all safe, not singed at all. My fashion values and sense of wearable architecture has not abandoned me!

Lovey C