The One in Which I Warn You of More Whining Coming Your Way

Mood: Aggravated. I hate when stuff disappears

Listening to: Some Beautiful Silence

Daddy G came home the other day with a more serious than usual expression on his face. I was sweaty (from the weather), exasperated (from the children) and hormonal (from, well, hormones. Girls have PMS hormones, let’s let it go already). This is never a good entry for a scene, but it does set the state for what comes next.

Daddy G: I have some news that you really won’t like, but I have to tell you.

I froze and got that deer in the headlights look that says I’m about to hear about an affair, a lost job, a death or something similarly serious. Daddy G of course took his sweet time continuing. This drives me nuts, but he does it all the time. Daddy G hates breaking bad news to me because I inevitably overreact and he hates confrontation.

Daddy G: I have to go to the US in June.

Me: No.

Daddy G: And September.

Me: Are you fucking kidding me? No.

Daddy G: Yes. My boss says blah blah blah I am needed in the US. (I honestly can’t remember what he said, I was trying to remove half of the red from my vision and stop my blood pressure from rising any further)

Me: Was something about “no” unclear?

I knew I was being bitchy, but I really didn’t care at that time.

Daddy G: Don’t be like this Becky.

Me: And why the hell not? You told me twice a year. Already once this year you’ve been gone for almost 2 months.  

Daddy G: It won’t be that long this time. You know that was for citizenship purposes.

Me: I think you’re missing the point here. We both know I am able to do it, but I don’t WANT to be left here to deal with life, the kids school, and the kids craziness all by myself.

Daddy G: I know.

Me: Not only that, both the times you are going are times when the kids and I can’t come with you. They have school.  I was looking forward to going to the US on your company’s generousness.

Part of the draw of Daddy G’s company is that they will fly us to the US with him when he goes, but we have to arrange the trip when our kids have school vacation. School starts in June and there are no holidays in September.

Daddy G: I know. Look Becky, I just brought you all to Sri Lanka for a family trip that we all enjoyed.

Me: I will not be bribed. Or shamed into being quiet.

Daddy G: I know.

Me: You better stop sayin I know, mister.

Daddy G: Sigh. I’m sorry it’s worked out like this, can you please stop pouting and talk to me about this like 

a grown up?

Me: Danger Daddy G, Danger.  It is not my fault that you spring this shit on me when I have PMS and am least able to deal with it like a mature adult. You should count yourself lucky that the shoes are two rooms away. I really, really feel like being super immature and chucking some shoes. At you.

At this point Daddy G started laughing and hugged me. As usual, my tantrum about anything related to his work is acknowledged, but really doesn’t ever change a damn thing.

Me: You do know that if you leave again without buying a car I will get extremely stabby and probably not be here when you get back.

More laughter. Sigh. At least I can have the bed and the fan to myself.

Becky

On Why I'm Glad I'm Not the Girlfriend Any Longer

Mood: Aggravated. I hate when stuff disappears

Listening to: My daughter getting Hindi tuition

Daddy G and I were watching TV the other day. A mushy boyfriend/girlfriend make out scene came on as we watched. As is his way, Daddy G proceeded to laugh his ass off at the scene and make fun of it. And you people said romance is dead. Hah! He’s never been the romantic type. I was placing bets in my head about whether they would be sex involved (none, unfortunately) and if so, how many naked body parts (oh come on India!) would be blurred out.

It got me to reminiscing about the good old dating days with Daddy G and how new and exciting everything was. I was missing it for a while, but then I started thinking a little more objectively. At that time, life was hard; both for me and for us as a couple. I was struggling to make it on my own as a semi-adult. Daddy G and I had a long distance relationship in which we only saw each other every 5 weeks. We weren’t even sure if we would last, so even our emotions were held in check a bit.

Now that I think about it, the time Daddy G and I had dating did have its own magical quality and I’m very thankful for the time and experiences we had. However, I would never want to go back to doing life like that. I really don’t ever want to be the girlfriend again. I’ve said many times before that I hope I never have to create a relationship of this type again. I never want to have to put in the crazy time and emotions it takes to get to know someone that well and marry them again. I can just see myself analyzing every little thing and thinking about how this is so not the same as last time – I want it the same!

I’m glad I’m the wife because for me, that comes with a good deal of permanence and security. The longer Daddy G and I are married, the more comfortable we are with ourselves, each other, and the relationship we have.  I love the way I can talk about uncomfortable things with him without having to walk on eggshells for fear of saying something wrong and chasing him away. Well, maybe I do tread some thin ice occasionally, but you’re stuck buster.

Yes, I do miss the excitement a bit. I miss things being new and being a fascinating creature to Daddy G. I have been known to occasionally whine when he no longer reaches for my hand when we walk together. Even with that, I know we’ve had our season for that type of thing. I’m continually learning to appreciate the man he has become and the direction our relationship has taken. For everything there is a season and all that good jazz. Most of all, I’m glad I’m not that same insecure, scared 19 year old who is terrified that I will do or say something to chase him away. I’ve grown to learn how silly that philosophy is.

Yep. I’m glad to be the wife.

Becky

A Recent Conversation

Daddy G: Becky, what did you buy on Amazon on our US credit card?

Becky: Erm….mumble mumble something DaddyG. I won’t do it again, promise. (Daddy G gets paid in rupees, so spending in dollars is expensive for us)

Daddy G: Seriously, what was it?

Becky: Mumble mumble… 50 Shades of Grey.

Daddy G: You spent 2,000 rupees on Trash Lit?

Becky: Yes.

Daddy G: Why???

Becky: I’m not apologizing. It was worth it.

Daddy G: Why was it worth it? It’s not even good writing!

Becky: I agree, the writing was absolutely awful. The good scenes were pretty hot though. That directly 

benefits you, you know.

Daddy G: Why didn’t you just buy it on Flipcart? (The Indian equivalent of Amazon, where books are 

much, much cheaper)

Becky: Well, first things first, I really didn’t think I would find it there.

Daddy G: I checked, it’s there.

Becky: Well, ahem. Second, I knew you would flip if I bought an actual book where our kids could get their hands on it or it could accidentally embarrass you in front of company.

Daddy G: Hmmm. Point given there. There will be no erotic literature on our bookshelves.

Becky: I’m sorry, I won’t buy stuff from Amazon anymore.

Daddy G: Wait a minute. Is this why you call me Sir?

Becky: Absolutely not. Number 1 I started calling you that long ago. Number 2, you’re totally not a dominant personality.

Daddy G: You really have to stop calling me that. People are going to think we’re all kinky.

Becky: Oh no. We can’t have that. (Eyes rolling so far back I can see the back of my head)

Daddy G: Seriously, I’m an exec now, you can’t be putting shit like this on the internets.

Becky: I call you Sir because you insufferably bossy sometimes.

Daddy G: This is not helping your cause. At all.  No Sir.

Becky: Damnit.