We’ve been a little busy of late, so in lieu of writing an actual blog post, for one week only I’ve decided to throw open the doors to our marriage and let you take a peek inside.
Can you take your shoes off before you come in though please?
It’s Saturday night and we are deciding what the evening’s entertainment should be.
Me: I’d really like to watch something that makes me cry.
Him: Like seeing your best friends lined up and shot in the head one by one?
Me: Maybe something a bit more lighthearted.
Him: Bludgeoned to death by a clown?
(We settle on George Clarke’s Amazing Spaces)
It’s Monday, and we’re doing the bi-weekly shop. My husband comes down the aisle with bread.
Me: That looks tiny. Is it a normal-sized loaf?
Him: Yes, it’s a normal-sized loaf.
Me: It looks really small in your arms. Have you been working out whilst I wasn’t looking?
Him: Yes. I’ve been working out you’re an idiot.
It’s Wednesday. I have woken up with a pain in my chest for the third time this week.
Me: I think there’s something wrong with me.
Him: I agree. It’s called hypochondria.
Me: I’m serious. I’ve got this weird pain in my chest every time I wake up.
Him: Oh that? Yeah, that’s called nothing.
Me: You’re not very sympathetic.
Him: You’re not very sympathetic.
Me: I could be dying for all you know.
Him: Well hurry up and get on with it. I’ve got about another two years before I’m past being able to pull anyone half-decent.
Me: I don’t like the idea of Edgar calling anyone except me ‘mum’.
Him: I’ll teach him to call her ‘f*ck buddy’.
Me: Oh, okay. Cool.
It’s Friday, and I am trying to cajole my son into trying a dish I have slaved over, whilst he just motions in the general direction of a satsuma.
Him: You shouldn’t bribe Edgar with food. It can set up negative associations for the future.
Me: Telling him that if he eats his dinner he can have some fruit isn’t bribery.
Him: What is it then?
Me: A lesson in cause & effect?
It’s Saturday. We are in the park, and having grabbed my husband to passionately kiss him, I now imagine I am some kind of love machine.
Me: On a scale of one to ten, how romantic do you think I am?
Him: Can I use fractions?
Me: Oh come on, I’m quite romantic aren’t I?
Him: Define romantic.
Me: You know. Behaving lovingly and appreciatively towards you.
Him: So can I use fractions?
Me: Just give me a number!
Me: Five? Five? So I’m essentially ‘neither here nor there’ on the romance scale?
Him: Well name something romantic you’ve done recently.
Me: I’ll take a five.
It’s later on that same day…
Me: Compared to other wives you know, how overbearing do you think I am?
Him: Do I really have to answer that?
Me: YES!….I mean no…. I mean, only if you want to, darling.
Him: I don’t.
Me: You don’t think I’m overbearing?
Him: I don’t want to answer that.
Me: *sits on own mouth*
So there you have it. It’s not much to look at, but we’ve worked hard to get it into the shape it’s in.
Next week, I review my mother-in-law.