I marvel at my husband's in-one-ear-out-the-other ability. If he were to ride the perfect storm, his would be the only boat sailing at an even clip. The man is a rock. I down right envy him for it. I really do.
When asked how his day went, he says, "Good." Then he flips the lid of his soda can and says nothing for two hours.
When asked how my day went, I announce in one breath:
"Thumbing through my wallet while balancing three shopping bags, a PDA and an overfull bladder, I finally found the coupon for 10% off the house shoes I remembered our son needs after shopping for the kids' easily microwaveable lunch since I'm not going to get home when they do because I will be taping a TV show tomorrow and permission slips have to be signed, parent-teacher conferences need to be arranged, friends' parents have to be alerted, and my cell phone must be charged in case of emergency...."
A Big Gulp®-size amount of air enters both lungs as I close my eyes to memorize the next day's details...saddled with unopened mail, a UPS package and a bag of groceries, I plop down the items and run to the bathroom. Two minutes later, hubby enters the kitchen, puts down his briefcase, takes off his shoes, sits himself down, and placidly reads the paper...
Martha Brockenbrough, author of Things That Makes Us [Sic], has written one of the most poignant articles I've read in a long time in this month's Parenting magazine. It describes why we moms are so exhausted and pissed at the husbands whom we love, yet curse, almost every day. Where is their frenzy? Why do they rest when they're tired while we do not?
The article is entitled "Mad at Dad: We love our husbands -- so why are we so angry at them, so often?" The most eye-catching part has to do with moms being the Encyclopedia Britannica to the dads' brochure. Martha writes:
We carry so much of this life-altering responsibility in our heads: the doctors' appointments, the shoe sizes, the details about the kids' friends. Many dads wouldn't even think to buy valentines for the class, for example, or know when it's time to sign kids up for the pre-camp physical, or that curriculum night is next Thursday at 7:30 and you need to hire a sitter and bring a nut-free vegetarian appetizer that can be eaten without a fork. Even moms who work full-time take it upon themselves to store all this data in our already overstuffed heads. We're the walking, talking encyclopedias of family life, while dads tend to be more like brochures. [Reprinted with Permission from Parenting magazine and Martha Brockenbrough]
At my request, hubby read the article, too. He nodded, smiled, then opened the paper again. Nary a grunt escaped his esophagus, the very one I wanted to choke, but then thought better of it...
