Yesterday, as those of you who read my last post will recall, I was full of praise for Jet Lag Dad. Sadly, last night, I discovered I had spoken too soon.
I mean, how could he? And does he really think that calling me paranoid will help? And what exactly is so unreasonable about suggesting that he occasionally take a turn at clearing up Pesky Puppy’s poop when we go to the park?
A fight over dog poop – stupid I know. But then how many times are the fights we have with the people closest to us about anything that, in retrospect, could honestly be considered important?
I call it the last straw factor. The ‘I’m so knackered that pretty much anything you say or do right now is going to send me into an apoplectic rage’ effect. With the only interesting question, in the cold light of day, being why JLD was primed to fly into such a thundering rage.
One very reasonable explanation could be straight-forward exhaustion. What with broken nights and long distance flights, I’m willing to admit, in the cold light of day, that there are reasons why he might feel inclined to fight.
But last night I sensed something else. Something that can best be described as frustrated desire. A desire to be seen as something other than the person I call on for help, at three in the morning, when I no longer think I can keep going.
So tonight I’ve got something special planned. Rather than foraging for food in the near-empty larder, JLD and I will be dining in for two, followed by an early night, once the babies are sleeping soundly.
Not quite the lavish night out that Gina Ford recommends to revive a flagging relationship, but it will do. Because the truth is that a quiet meal together, followed by a child-free cuddle, pretty much sums up what we currently mean by idyllic.
