Voodooesque

Are we nearly there yet?

So. there's umpteen different ways to reassure someone that there's life outside of parenthood. there's rarely a situation which, albeit with a bit of planning and a slight compromise, you cannot include your infant and still participate in.

I've been a big proponent of that. Taken my daughter pretty much everywhere I wanted to go since week one.

The thing I never considered was: Is there life in my relationship outside of parenthood?

I am staring down the barrel of yet another holiday during which, after she's gone to bed, we sit in silence. Each with a separate novel or puzzle book. Because there are no household chores to share. No shared TV interest to slump in front of - no 'Millionaire' to pose answers to. We don't even talk about what we did during the day.

Even at home, there are deathly silences where our conversation should be. We can talk about the offspring, work, building/decorative house-related stuff and that's it. There's no laughing that doesn't involve her.

We just met in town for lunch - the two of them went out this morning to pick out a couple of things for his mother while I did some work. I combed my hair, put on clean jeans - there may even have been deodorant involved - to go and meet them. Half a dozen times I tried to start a conversation. About his father's health (he had an operation on his foot yesterday), about our upcoming holiday, about a christmas party we've been invited to. About the fucking menu.

I got nothing.

I know he's tired and under work pressure. Well, so am I. I know that everyone deals with fatigue and pressure in different ways. It's quite possible that I've had my empathy chip removed.

But why do I feel that it's always me driving this bus?
(And because of the Offspring, I can't get off. The doors are locked.)
(Like a macabre Speed sequel)

posted by dodo @ 2:35 pm