El Jefe’ and i had a rare, civilized, adult conversation last night. it’s not that we argue and are constantly down eachother’s throats. it seems as though we are very busy trying to maintain our careers, our Midwestern work ethics, a functioning household (nothing even remotely related to a well-oiled machine), prepare for the season of Holiday Hell with our extended families, and raise an ever-growing, ever-changing, ever-developing toddler. our needs as husband and wife, and our marriage, most often take a back seat. way back seat. back of the trailer, just millimeters in front of the license plate back seat.
Punkin has had a baby sitter something like three times in his life (last year’s company Holiday party, our anniversary, and a wedding in May. i think that’s it.). each time, his Godmother came over for the evening. we don’t know any teenagers in the neighborhood, and frankly i don’t trust my parents, and besides, he spends five days a week around nine hours a day in daycare. so there’s some guilt, some laziness, and some lack of trust. don’t get me wrong … we both enjoyed a meal where we didn’t have to cut everything up, make sure the temperature bordered on cold, didn’t inhale our food to have a free hand to catch tossed utensils and launched green beans, and have an adult conversation. we’d like to go to the movies one evening so we can actually watch a movie from end to end. but somehow it is not a priority, and it is ok with both of us.
we talked about his potential for promotion. we talked about moving. we talked about my job. we talked about what we would miss about where we have spent the past ten years. i told him i wanted to deliver the Peanut here, and he was adamant that i should not have to change doctors again.
it is no wonder i love this man. we’re on the same page.
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