Yesterday the babies had their 6 week check-up. They're fine, other than being underweight, but unfortunately they haven't grown as much as they should have over the past 2 weeks, so next week we go back and check and see how they're doing. The doctor isn't worried, we'll just keep an eye on it, and he pronounced them fit and healthy, even if we are a few weeks behind developmentally. Nora was so pleased to get naked and weighed she even hosed down his bed, his growth chart, and the scales. My little girl did not get her bladder capacity from me then.

On the way home from the hospital we busted into what's become perhaps the biggest argument of our relationship so far. It's many pronged, with antlers anchoring many layers of anger and frustration. It has taken hold of our household and punctured it with silence. We haven't spoken a word to each other yet today, and I don't know when that's going to change. I'm not sure what to talk about, except to ask which of the bottles he made up this morning are the White ones, so if you're reading this, Angus, perhaps you can identify said bottles?

There are a few specific things we're unhappy with each other about, which I won't get into, but I can't help but feel so dragged down. Once, if I had a problem, we'd sit down and work it out patiently and calmly. Now I feel I just have to suck it up and deal with the sarcasm. This, in turn, makes me drill into Angus even more which simply creates a vicious cycle.

The straw that broke the camel's back for me happened yesterday. I feel like from sunup to sundown my entire day is taking care of the house and babies, including dog walking, meal cooking, a million loads of laundry and dishes, taking trash out, feeding, burping, tidying...it just doesn't end. Ever. And I feel like I'm doing everything and not only not getting any sign of appreciation, but he actually complains a great deal that the house is a disaster. I could handle it if only he didn't complain. I just can't take the added pressure. Me, I've been throwing things away. Lots of things. Things I love, things from my childhood, things that are pretty. Everything must go. I took bags of things out to the garbage bin last night. The garbagemen are coming today, they'll take my things away, and I'll look at the back of the truck and think At least they can't come back in.

And the house is not great, but my constant cleaning is at least keeping it to a bare minimum. I tell him that everytime he says the house is a disaster I take it personally, so he took that as a sign to walk around the house and point out all the flaws. This, combined with a few other very sensitive arguments we're having, finally bubbled over the side of the boiling pot. It's not an argument about cleaning. In typical coupledom, it's an argument about everything else, cleaning was just the catalyst to get the lid open.

So I finally snapped yesterday. I told Angus I wanted to be away from him. I took the babies with me to the grocery store (but only after being told to be away as long as I possibly could, please, by Angus). I bought a cup of coffee at the store's Starbucks. A gingerbread latte, it arrived lukewarm, but I drank it anyway, the babies snoozing in their carriers. I sat there on the green fake velveteen chair and drank my coffee as slowly as I could.

And what I wanted to do was check into a hotel with the babies. Not forever, just for one night. Just 24 hours with me and my children. We would do everything that I'm not allowed to do with them (You're just giving them exactly what they want!). They would sleep on my chest, and when they got tired of that I would make a nest of pillows and have them sleep next to me. I would hold them whenever I wanted to. I would nap beside them (oh God, to nap beside them). Maybe at some point I'd drink a chocolate shake, most likely not, I would just be with them and not do dishes, and not do laundry, and not pet the dog, and not stress about Angus' stresses, and not do anything, really. I wouldn't even say a word, I'd have no laptop and no phone, I'd just sleep and be with them.

And then I would come home. I wouldn't be away forever. It would just be a moment I could have to hold on to, a break from the stress and angst.

After I finished my coffee I did some grocery shopping. I wanted another cup of coffee in that pitiful Starbucks but Nora was getting very angry and was shouting, so I knew we had to go. So I came home.

Never before have I felt that I wanted to leave before yesterday.

I don't want to feel that way again.

So we're not talking, but I don't really know how to talk anyway. He just gets sarcastic and aggressive, I just turn into a tangential harpie who takes a small argument and goes global, taking my stresses and exploding them across my vocabulary. I really need to learn when to shut the fuck up, I guess. I'd like to fix the situation (not least because I'd like to know which bottles are the White ones), but I'm so furious I can hardly believe it.

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. Or not, in my case. I found a cinema nearby that has something called Newbies, where parents and their new babies can take in a morning movie and not worry about pissing off the other patrons as we're all there with babies. I think I'll take the babies to that. I need to get out more with them - now that my travel ban is over, it's time to face the fact that I feel very stressed about leaving the house, especially with thim. It's time to live life now.

In the meantime, I'll clean. And throw away things. Because the less I am the better.

-H.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 10:13 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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