The Talk

Things had been going along really well last night – until she decided we needed to talk.   And not just any talk, but a no prior warning sneak attack sit-in-front-of-the-TV-to-force-me-to-pay-attention-to-her talk.  

Why do they do that?  

Does she not think it’s going to piss me off?   We have a DVR, so all she had to do is ask me to pause it or wait for a commerical. 

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Of course she is complaining about me.  

Evidently, I haven’t been pulling my weight with Junior and around the household.   I admit that she does more than I do with him, but only because she is breast feeding him.   She is also more in tune with what she needs to take to the sitter everyday.   Because of our weird schedules and commutes we have a strange AM routine that (somehow) completely takes me out of baby prep in the mornings.   She wants to “figure this out”.  I tell her I do what I can in the number of hours in a day, and if she had any suggestions.   “No, but you know I do more!”   

Yes, Dear.        

So her big interruptive speech boiled down to her asking me to help more, but not really have any ideas of how I can do that.   I tell her that unless she has a specific example there is little I can do to help, because I feel like I am doing what I can.   Her response:  “Don’t be an asshole, just help me out here.”

All that is left to do is change the subject.  I make the look-around-the-wife-at-the-tv move and she pops up and storms out of the room.

Thank you for wasting my time.