I'm so tired

Exhaustion has its benefits. For instance, you don’t mind how much noise the kids make, ‘coz your low level of consciousness tunes it out. And so long as you have your day detailed to near the minute (which I do), and keep to the schedule (which I sometimes do), you can get through the day on automatic, without a care. I think it’s a bit like being on drugs – but cheaper (and that’s good ‘coz I’m broke).

But there are drawbacks. You forget stuff, like complaining.

This week has been especially busy as I’ve dashed about attending school leaving assemblies, new school inductions, a ballet recital, a dentist appointment, a school surf day, as well as the usual daily, three school runs, homework and cooking for six. And by the time evening comes I’ve been too tired to gripe about the nuances and irritations of the week.

So last night when my BetterHalf raised the subject of my ‘slipping’, I was offended and took the time to explain (in detail) why the bedrooms are a mess, why the bookshelves haven’t been painted, or curtains not yet made, and lawns not mowed.

Very wisely, he backed off and made some jokes about him sitting on his arse all day (yeah, that’s sure to amuse me!) and asked why I hadn’t mentioned these things. Huh? I have! Alright, I didn’t bother telling him about the hassle I had getting a parking space in town, or how the supermarket computer checkouts crashed, or when the builder down the road started pointing and laughing when I drove past him for the third time in an hour; but I did tell my BH about the major events! And I told him, that I’d told him (if you follow).

Luckily for him, I was tired. I didn’t have the energy to fully assimilate the realisation that my husband doesn’t listen to me. Of course that may be a bit harsh, maybe he imagines these activities only take up the odd hour or two. So I didn't give him a hard time, I let it go with a sigh and some grinding of my teeth.

At this point stop, and imagine you are a man who has just offended his wife (a lot) and think of what you could say, in an effort to put things right.

Is it as dumb as: ‘Well, this time next week you’ll be on holiday!’ ?

Ah, ah, ah – before you get carried away and wonder why I consider this the worst thing a husband could say, lets’ define his use of the word 'holiday'.

In his sentence it means: At home. With four children. For six weeks.

DOES THAT SOUND LIKE A BLOODY HOLIDAY TO YOU?

Suddenly I wasn’t tired any more.

And tonight, he’s listening.