“That’s how marriage can be. Two imperfect persons trying their best to make themselves perfect enough for the other, and accepting that the imperfect other is what God has gifted you.”
Friday, I cried briefly.
In frustration, in anger.
I questioned why I married this man.
Recently, we changed routine, so he drove and I went back to public commute – the long walk, a short squeeze on the train, and a long walk uphill in the morning. Reverse that for the commute home.
I hate it. Even though it’s just one stop.
And my health hasn’t been good – weight is still creeping downwards, back still giving me grief, and let’s be honest, I am having a lot of panic attacks. Just turning onto the highway for a long drive can cause me to have clammy hands. The world seems to cave in whenever the MRT door closes.
So back to Friday… no dinner at home, so I went to buy dinner on my way home. Texted the husband, only to receive no replies, so I just assumed he needed food and bought for him too.
Carrying laptop, milk and ice pack, food for three people onto the train… my shoulders were aching. Train was packed (when is it never?)… And then my gastric acted up.
Husband replied. He just reached home. Thanked me for dinner.
My first thought was, “if I could remember you need food, why couldn’t you remember I may need a ride home?”
Tired, sad, disappointed, feel cheated. He said if he took the car, he could pick me up after work. He only did it once.
I have become less than an afterthought.
I somehow plodded home without fainting, just a lot of cold sweat. I reached home, dropped the food on the dinner table, briefly said hi to Little Foot and went to lie down in bed.
At that point, I hated my life… I hated how weak I have become – physically and mentally….I hated how my other half can never remember my existence when away from me.
Fast forward to today.
He dutifully did his Sunday morning duties, changing diapers, feeding Little Foot, bringing her down to play, while I slept.
We went out the whole afternoon — went in search of lunch and then spent the afternoon at Gardens by the Bay. He accommodated me when I said my head was pounding and let’s not go to his parents’ place. We went for waffles and ice cream..and visited two playgrounds.
By many women’s yardstick, Papa Long would have been a flying colours papa. And I agree.
I guess you could say he is a better father than a husband, or maybe, like how I have forgotten how to be a good spouse, so has he.
Online, people tend to post their fairytale stories. Everyone then goes green when envy.
I thought I’d post a real human story instead, so perhaps everyone else who’s dealing with a less than fairytale life can say “ok, I’m not alone here”.
The fact of life is, when life overwhelms, we become careless, thoughtless, mindless.
In the end, it is what we choose to do with the situation. Take it to heart and drown in the anger and sadness, or let it go and be the bigger person.
I chose to cry. And I asked why he didn’t think of asking me if I needed a lift. He gave me his reason (a lame but real one — he was caught in a jam and urgently needed to pee, so he chiong home). And I moved on.
No he didn’t apologise.
I married a person who is also human, and who somehow believes a wife is a person who can be as capable and strong as he is. So my guess is, he’s going to continue to forget me until he reaches home, he’s going to not buy me a mothers day gift because “you are not my mother”, and all the thoughtless things he will do… because he’s too logical for his own good.
And yet, I am not walking away. Because I already knew these before I married him.
For all the careless and thoughtless ways, he is my life partner… the one who has shared ups and downs, braved through life’s scary moments with me, who never got mad at me.
And he is Little Foot’s super Papa.
Love is easy…Marriage is hard work.
We will continue to bicker about what is important and what a husband should do for his wife (the ongoing debate about whether he ought to buy me a branded bag will probably last till we are 90 yrs old), we will continue to irritate each other because our language of love is different.
That’s how marriage can be. Two imperfect persons trying their best to make themselves perfect enough for the other, and accepting that the imperfect other is what God has gifted you.
I made a decision to get over Friday’s incident and stop dwelling. If I hadn’t, it would have been impossible to have thoroughly enjoyed myself today.
When we shared a waffle today, it almost felt like we were dating again, except that Little Foot was trying her best to get her hands on the ice cream and the water and everything else in front of her.
Here’s us at Gardens by the Bay
And here’s him dealing with the wormy Little Foot while trying to drink a coffee and eat the waffles and ice cream.
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