Okay, so I went through my roaring thirties as a flaming feminist. (Check Crash Test Dummies Are People Too for my funny flaming feminist writings.)
It's a thorny path, ain't it, this marriage gig! And this week has been particularly thorny.
So this morning I was up at 5:15. I helped my daughter come up with a thesis statement for her Huck Finn paper while I was touching up her tresses. (I know, get-a-life!) Then it was on to the boys. My husband took care of the breakfast, while I took care of the botherings.
Did you brush your teeth. . . with toothpaste? Take your bath . . . with water? Did you apply sunscreen . . . beyond your nose? Did you say your prayers . . . and not just in your heart?
In between the botherings I changed the laundry, emptied the dishwasher, showered, shampooed and shined and then spread all my class stuff across the kitchen table to begin preparing for this morning's lecture. Meanwhile my husband was dozing off to Regis and Kelly.
Not that I care. I mean I wouldn't even mention it if it weren't for the passive-aggressive way in which he was dozing. His passive-agressive dozing aggravates me because I can't call him out on it. No matter how I argue it, he always says the same thing back, "I was JUST sleeping!"
But I was on to him.
Later, when he came downstairs to depart for work, I was perched at the computer inputting grades. He had that you-are-perched-at-the-computer-and-I-really-was-just-sleeping look on his face. So I put on my yes-I-am perched-at-the-computer-but-the-house-is-clean-and-the-children-are-well-cared-for-and-anyway-I'm-not-blogging-I'm-grading-which-I-get-paid-for look.
And then he spoke for the first time all morning. "There are two things you could do for me today," he said.
Is it bad that I wanted to scratch his eyes out?