So a part-time mommy colleague that I rarely see "stopped by" my office yesterday. She had no intention of stopping by. She was passing and she quickly popped her head back and asked, "How's it going bella?" It was one of those rhetorical, salutation-type questions, the one that you are supposed to reply with, "Great, thanks! And you?!?"
Poor woman got a sincere answer of "...uh... yeah... uh... not feelin' so hot..."
Then I started crying.
Whatever appointment she had, she missed. Because by not ignoring my sobbing, she was basically forced to be my therapist for nearly an hour: I cried and complained about my latest fight with Tiziano, about how tired I was, how I just don't know how other women do it, did it, continue to do it, often in worse circumstances, bla, bla, bla.
Thankfully, she was really compassionate and did the whole "if you make it through these years, you can make it through anything" speech. Which I needed to hear. I subsequently called Tiziano and, well, didn't apologize (because as usual, it was HIS FAULT!), but tried to make the peace without letting loose the crazed hysteric that is in my head.
I have to admit, though, that being the breadmaker to a stay-at-home dad may sound good in theory, but I get little in the way of moral support by most of the other mothers I know: they usually identify with the frustrated homemaker issues Tiziano brings up, and not with the perpetually exhausted breadmaker, nursing mother, primary night-waker, zero downtime/hobby issues that I deal with!
Wednesday, 11 March 2009
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