We need to talk…

The husband hasn’t been happy this week. He texted on Friday morning to say that, and he would talk to me about it later.

I spent the whole day racking my brains. Couldn’t really focus on work with the idea my ‘husband wants to talk to me tonight’. My imagination was running with the wild at 1,000mph, with visions of him serving up divorce papers.

It all came to a head on Friday night. I left my work mates at the pub around 5.30pm with the message “if I don’t go home now, I’ll be in the doghouse / I’m going on a date with the husband”. I thought by getting home in good time before he does, doing a little ‘housekeeping’ (ie, clean dirty dishes / put a load in of the mountain of clothes we have) before he got home might put me in good favour, perhaps give him one less reason to be mad with me…

I offered to ring the kebab shop to order our usual chicken shish and chips (and don’t forget the tarasamalata) and he could pick it up on his way home. “Don’t worry, I’ll do it” was his reply. Fine. Fine. I’ll crack open a red, and pour a glass.

Only that I was pouring a bit too much. By the time he came home, I gave him a little cuddle and a howsayourdaya talk (see, I’m affectionate) then suggested we eat in the dining room. “Too cold, might as well eat in bedroom”. Ok. Now let me explain before we sound like Wanye and Waynetta Slob – our living room TV is bust. OK, yeah, we are Wayne and Waynetta Slob.

Ate the dinner. Spoke a little about what was on his mind. Work, family….. Every thing but ME. “WHAT HAVE I DONE ?!” I screamed in my head. He’s playing with my head he is…

“Wait”, he says. Takes out his phone. I’m exasperated. He’d rather look at his phone than talk to me, charming. “no”, he can see the look on my face, “I’ve got a list here of what I want to talk to you about”

WHAT?!? A LIST ?!? Alright love!! A bit tipsy, and I’m already mentally stacking up my defence arguments… I’ve been ill Monday and Tuesday, went back to school Wednesday and whacked myself out, Thursday was mental because one of my kids hasn’t stopped crying since the week before and its stressing my team out, and Friday I spent the morning with this crying kid and the afternoon with an occupational psychologist about another one of my kids! Bring it on, I say…

“You made soup this week. You know I don’t like your spicy carrot and lentil soup. You don’t think about me.” he says.

“Uh?” I had prepared a better response than this.

“You said you were going to make dinner for me when I got in at least twice a week, but you don’t…”

At this point he realised how hard I was laughing and crying and couldn’t resist in laughing as well.

“OK babes, I’ll try to be a bit more housewife for you”.

And to think it was something more serious…

and that’s all for now…

Good thing about being ill…

When you wake up in the morning, and your throat feels like sandpaper, with your glands up like Mount Kilamanjaro, you just know you need to call in sick. Tonsilitus is back, and I’m going to beat this bitch. In my profession, it’s better we stay at home so that we don’t spread it to children and other teachers. Doesn’t stop you feeling very guilty though!

Spent all day feeling sorry for myself and drowning myself in dequacaine tablets (these are very strong throat tablets which numb the pain) , painkillers and lots of sleep and water. I’m hesistant to ring the doctor and get onto antibiotics straight away because my mother and sister suffer tonsilitus as well and Mum has had hers taken out because she became resistant to antibiotics and she wishes she never took them out because she still gets very sore throats!! So I decided I would try to ‘foresee’ them coming up and ease off the worst of it. Instead of battling through it and just making myself 100 times worse.

So, its nice after a crap day of being ill that the husband brings home more dequacaine and coca cola bottles (I love these) to make me feel better. He throws them on the duvet while I look like death.

He still grunts and goes “alright?” as if I’ve spent the whole day lounging about………

All I wanted was…

The husband’s 30th was looming. As far as planning and preparations go, I like to plan well in advance, especially if it includes travelling. So in May, I invited all his friends (and some of mine!) to York for the weekend in October. Yes, 5 months in advance. I’d even booked a restaurant for Saturday night, planned a Viking museum and Brewery visit during the day, pub crawl and nightclubs for the evening. It was all planned out, meticulously. He would be so happy with this, I would win ‘Wife of the Year’ and so on…

It was even nicer when the restaurant, Delrios, emailed back to confirm the booking, and to let me know it was my cousin! I told the husband about this, and his response? “You Lavertys, you’re just everywhere aren’t you”. Charming. It was decided we would stay the Sunday night in York and spend time with them catching up. All in all, a nice perfect weekend to celebrate my husband’s 30th, surrounded by good friends, good food, and good fun!

To top it off, towards the York weekend, Mum texted me to say she couldn’t take up the hotel voucher before its expiry date in November, so I told her to book it for the following Tuesday, Ollie’s actual birthday, after the York weekend, and I would take him out there for the night. Included a 3 course dinner and breakfast, he certainly wouldn’t complain. Also, we picked up our new Audi that morning… I could definitely feel someone, somewhere, was writing my nomination in for ‘Wife of the Universe’ at this point…

The weekend in York was had, and the hotel trip made in the Audi, and the husband was happy…. or so I thought.

We were lying in bed when I could see something was on his mind.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“You forgot my birthday”

“What? I know I woke up that morning and didn’t say happy birthday straightaway but I did remember, like an hour later”

“You didn’t even get me a card until the next day”

“Hmm? Sorry, but I did organise a weekend in York, and the hotel trip for your actual birthday, and I sorted the Audi so it was ready for your birthday…”

“But it would have been nice to get a card.”

There goes my nomination for ‘Wife of the Galaxy’ in the bin… all he wanted was a f**king card!