3 years, my hubbie and I have been wed. 3 years! Goes quickly, doesn't it. Ahhh. Back then, two fresh faced (well, sort of fresh faced. From a distance. If you were squinting, and a bit short sighted.) young lovers, saying 'I do' and agreeing to spend the rest of their lives together, romantically entwined and gazing lovingly at one another for eternity.
Fast forward 3 years, and what have you got? A conversation that runs a little like this.
Wife: (slumped on sofa in front of TV): Shall we just not bother getting each other an anniversary present?
Husband: (eyes never leaving the screen.) Yeah. Alright. (pause). Actually, we could get that Arcade Fire album.
Wife: That's not really a present though, is it. It's just because we want it.
Husband: (after another pause) Yeah.
Wife: (after a longer pause.) Alright then.
Who said romance was dead, eh? Who needs flowers and chocolates and saucy underwear, when you have Gok Wan on the TV, a bottle of discounted booze and an Arcade Fire album?
Seriously though, we are sometimes romantic. But the laws of the universe are greatly stacked against us at present. Loud child who insists upon waking at all hours of the night - check. House a complete shambles, only use of candle light is to guide the way to the toilet in the dead of night cos the electrics are down - check. Job for husband utterly demanding and requires him to work about 16 hours a day - check.
I could go on...
On a completely different note, I had a really nice day today. D and I drove down to Exeter to see my dear friend /business partner and her little lad, for her birthday celebrations and we had a splendid meal out, despite D deciding to shriek fairly loudly at various intervals throughout. (turns out he was nestling something rather smelly and probably uncomfortable to sit on in his nappy, so that might have been the reason...) Pizza was eaten by my friend and I, nibbled on by her son, and lobbed all over the floor by D. Blush. He is such a .... wayward...child!
A grumpy old man sitting next to us complained fairly loudly about children being in restuarants, which did get me equally grumpy for all of about 2 minutes, but then I just decided to ignore him. I do find it a bit sad actually, how people in society seem to detest children. It makes no sense! Destest the parents who fail to shut their offspring up by all means, but not the kids themselves! I should like to point out that I was also doing my level best to try to chill D out, including pacing him around to the other side of the restuarant - but this obviously was not good enough for this jowelly, pompous faced old git. Ha ha. I must confess, I did make a comment whilst leaving (it's the pikey Essex girl in me) about intolerance, which in retrospect, was somewhat childish.
But hey, never cross a suburban mama when it comes to her precious little offspring! He may be loud, he may be the wriggliest little man I've ever come across, but he is MY wriggly little yappy whippet of a lad and I think anyone who doesn't think he's amazing is an IDIOT. So there. Ha!
I then proceeded to go completely mad on returning home.
There was a reason for this, I didn't just walk through the door and go crazy (though the thought often crosses my mind when I walk in to see piles of dust and plaster and many builders stomping around). The reason was when the BFG (the head builder) approached me and informed me that not only would I need to paint the bathroom and spare room by Thursday, but I would also have to strip the wallpaper and polyfilla the walls. (which would need CONSIDERABLE polyfilla-ing).
To say I went a little bit potty would be a bit of an understatement. Put it like this, I felt my own eyeballs uncontrollably twitching and the vein in my forehead start to do some sort of salsa dance of anger.
See- I'd agreed to do the painting, to save costs. But NEVER agreed to do wallpaper stripping and wall smoothing! And certainly not over the space of a day and a half, whilst looking after a 10 month old!
So, to put not to fine a point on it, I raged, then I sulked. I stormed into the den, muttering under my breath like a stroppy teenager. The BFG looked a little bit bemused. Then a little bit scared. He was probably right to be. I'm a horrid old cow when cross. He wisely retreated to the kitchen again while I shovelled pasta into D's mouth, brow furrowed, mouth pursed like an old lemon.
His parting shot was to assure me that he would try to find someone cheap to peel the wallpaper off. Yes, that would probably be wise.
I am slightly pacified, but not much. Ha ha!
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