Entry 18: December 29, 2011 - A Look Back

So.... we reach the end of the year and things are certainly better now than they were at the beginning.

We have just come back from a great (and expensive) holiday in sunny climes and she has received a very expensive handbag for Christmas .... from me.

As this blog is about minutae, let me describe a bit of a blow up on the day before we flew. I had ordered some DVDs from a couple of TV serials dating from the eighties and was watching them peacefully. She had no interest in them but kept asking how many episodes I had watched. In the end, I admit, I did lose patience and said that given she had no interest in them, really had no emotional connection with the series or the time or the place, please could she not feign interest and ask me annoying questions? This did no go down well and I was told that I was grumpy, she was only trying to be interested in what I was doing and so on.

I did berate myself for a while - just a couple of words, 'Episode 4', would have saved the subsequent strife!

This may also have been a reflection of a comment I had made the previous day. She told off our son quite strongly for not tidying up. While I did not say anything in front of him, I did suggest to her later that she should take some of her own advice before criticising our son!

Anyway, off we flew on holiday - a beautiful hotel and beautiful weather. I had decided to spend some money and buy a (stupidly) expensive (£600) handbag - and she was happy as a child to receive it. And all is well! She had also bought me sweater or two and some shirts - nothing I needed but, hey, I just went with the flow. So now I have resolved to be even more careful about my words while not being a vegetable either.

The irony, though, is that she is now doing what I would have suggested to her in the first place. She likes the handbag but, post-Christmas, there has been a marked reduction in price and so she has resolved to return it, get a refund, choose a smaller bag but buy a wallet too. But had I suggested that she wait for the sales and then choose something herself, I would have been accused of not being romantic, of not caring and so on.

I really do not know when she will grow up or how? Or when she will learn to manage time properly and get things done that need to be done. Do I have to continue to 'manage' her?

Entry 17: Time Management ... again

Come home and - apparently - she has been home all day. But the dining table - full of papers - has not been tidied, the guest room is full of drying clothes, food shopping was done after picking up from school and cooking for dinner has only just started.

What has she been doing all day? No doubt clothes folding will start at 10 pm.

I could do it but I will inevitably be told - as in the past - that my folding is inadequate.

I am a messy person myself but this is getting even beyond me.

Time management is the worst I have EVER seen.

AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!

Entry 16: Wit's End

A minor thing and I have to get my frustration out.

Most of the day - a Saturday - I play with our son; homework, piano practice, lunch, model making etc.. Most of the day she fiddles around and does Facebook. But, then, 10:30 pm or so, she comes upstairs with a packing for a birthday present. No doubt she considers that she has been very busy and can ONLY do this so late but, in reality, that is not the case.

And, in a way, it doesn't matter as I do not want her to be a traditional housewife - even if my blog suggests otherwise. I want her to try and do different things, I am happy to help but what I detest is hypocrisy. The house is a mess but I am instructed rudely to clear the breakfast table; tidiness is not a strongpoint but our son is told off in no uncertain terms about his room. These double standards are what I cannot stand and just get on my nerves: do not lecture me when you are not a paragon yourself.

A couple of Mondays ago, she told me that she was going to go into the city to meet a friend and that I should be back by 6pm or so from work. No problem with that; I said I would cook my own dinner knowing that that is what I would have to do anyway.

But I get home to find that even our son's dinner is not ready, the dishes that were in the sink from the previous day are still there, photographs that ought to have been printed for school have not been, he hasn't had his evening shower and so on and so on. What had she been doing all day given that our son was at school?  I can make a guess.

I really am at my wit's end. I do not know how to improve things without being direct and I do not want to be direct. At least I am not now taking out on my son - just on this blog.

Entry 15: Where are the Adults ... and an untimely fart

Life continues to be quiet. The relationship is fine mostly but I can't help thinking that we are still on something of a knife-edge.

Friday evening and I was really tired. I had done my usual finishing up the son's meal, reading him a story and putting him to bed - followed by a late dinner. Work has been stressful of late as at my grade there is 50% redundancy round ongoing and I had my survival interview this week - but it's not just me I have to be concerned about and try to help, it is also my team.

So by 9:30 pm I was ready to turn in. 'Sleep on my side of the bed as I want to read.' (this is due to the fact that I bought a bedside lamp which she always criticises but it's been two years and more and she has not got around to buying one herself.) 'Ok.' And then she proceeded to fart. So I said - joke angrily - that I wished she hand't done that as I was about to sleep on that side; at which point she accused me of being grumpy.

I rang a friend of mine this evening and was told subsequently that my voice sounded cheery when speaking to someone else but not when at home.

I wanted to respond - but didn't - that it's all about returns to a large extent. This friend has always been kind and is always happy to talk: I give friendship and I receive value back. At home I always appear to give but get little back other than criticism and stubbornness. Just a neutral response would be fine - I don't need thanks.

Our house, overall, continues to be a mess. The marked wall in the dining room is still there, the lights have not been changed, we do not have a china cupboard or a bathroom closet and the rooms remain with their original decor - plus the bedside lamp has not been bought. I could fix all of those but it is her job to look after the house and - in any case - my taste will not be liked. She has tonnes of time to do Facebook, to watch BBC iPlayer and videos and go out with her friends and shopping but not to improve the environment we live in. I don't like it but am prepared to wait and will certainly not instruct.

Oi vey - why are there so few adults in this world?

Entry 14: Going well - keeping my head down

Back now since the end of August and things are going well.

We are back having sex again and the relationship is harmonious. The enforced break of the holidays seems to have done us some good. And why should things not be going well? I've booked a five star hotel in Venice  for the end of October, we've bought a new car, she has bought an Apple Mac and we have booked our Christmas holidays.

The procrastination and lack of time management goes on. I got home today at about 6:30 and the son was half-way through dinner. Our dinner hadn't even been started, clothes were still hanging out in the garden when it was dark. So I gave him some water to go with the meal, gave him a shower, read him a book and put him to bed. Then cleaned his shoes, cleared out our shower drain, took the dry clothes upstairs and dropped the rubbish in the bin. Dinner is now just about ready and it's 2030. Given that I am trying to lose weight and really do not eat very much during the day, I am starving and crotchety - but the frustration is coming out here rather than in a quarrel.

Entry 13: The Return

Wife and son are due to return this coming week-end. What will the atmosphere be like?

I've just booked an expensive hotel in Venice for a four-day break in late October - hopefully that will keep her quiet for a while. Spend money, be happy.

I was speaking on the phone to a friend of mine who has been with her husband for 10 years now. And she was saying that they go through ups and downs and that they row.

Perhaps we should row also but I would end up saying things that I do mean - as in these blogs - and that would not be good. She does spout nasty things when angry but I have to let them go for fear of opening up my full resentment.

This friend also spoke of her brother whose marriage, apparently, really is in trouble. But they continue because of two very young kids.

Increasingly - perhaps because my parents have a combined age of 160, perhaps because of the recent funeral - I feel myself getting morbid and thinking of / being fearful of death. It must be because we think of ourselves as immortal that we do the things we do - work too hard, fight, quarrel. Believing perhaps that once this bad thing is over, all will be well.

Will I be able to slow things down, take my time, enjoy what is out there without searching for it - breathe every moment and know its worth?

Entry 12: A Time for Review - 10 August 2011

Haven't posted in a while as there is little to say. School closed, we - all three - went to India and now I have come back; they return at the end of August ready for school.

Nothing really has changed in our relationship and we certainly haven't spoken of our issues. She signs herself ILU (I Love You) in her texts, before we went on holiday she appeared to be doing more around the house and there is some evidence of a reduction in cutting remarks. And, maybe, the fault lies more with me now and it is up to me to make an effort.

But, it is difficult. I was genuine for so many years and all I was met with was callousness. I am also writing 'ILU' in my texts but I don't really mean it. The camel's back is broken and I have no wish to enter into the maelstrom of being hurt again.

Anyway, that wasn't the review I was talking about when I opened this blog. Today I went to my former Headmaster's funeral. He was only 70 but had suffered a severe stroke in April which, I understand, had completely incapacitated him. Perhaps death was a release and though that sounds trite and self-serving, his wife and daughter appeared to be at peace with what had happened and could even smile. It was a pleasant service and there was one particularly beautiful passage:

'To laugh often and much; to win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children; to earn the appreciation of honest critics and to endure the betrayal of false friends; to appreciate beauty; to find the best in others; to leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch, or a redeemed social condition; to know that even one life has breathed easier because you lived; this is to have succeeded.' Ralph Waldo Emerson.

Clearly a more succint predecessor of:

Wear Sunscreen

Mary Schmich

Wear sunscreen.

If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it. The long-term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists, whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience. I will dispense this advice now.

Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth. Oh, never mind. You will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they've faded. But trust me, in 20 years, you'll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can't grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked. You are not as fat as you imagine.

Don't worry about the future. Or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that blindside you at 4pm on some idle Tuesday.

Do one thing every day that scares you.

Sing.

Don't be reckless with other people's hearts. Don't put up with people who are reckless with yours.

Floss.

Don't waste your time on jealousy. Sometimes you're ahead, sometimes you're behind. The race is long and, in the end, it's only with yourself.

Remember compliments you receive. Forget the insults. If you succeed in doing this, tell me how.

Keep your old love letters. Throw away your old bank statements.

Stretch.

Don't feel guilty if you don't know what you want to do with your life. The most interesting people I know didn't know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives. Some of the most interesting 40-year-olds I know still don't.

Get plenty of calcium. Be kind to your knees. You'll miss them when they're gone.

Maybe you'll marry, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll have children, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll divorce at 40, maybe you'll dance the funky chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary. Whatever you do, don't congratulate yourself too much, or berate yourself either. Your choices are half chance. So are everybody else's.

Enjoy your body. Use it every way you can. Don't be afraid of it or of what other people think of it. It's the greatest instrument you'll ever own.

Dance, even if you have nowhere to do it but your living room.

Read the directions, even if you don't follow them.

Do not read beauty magazines. They will only make you feel ugly.

Get to know your parents. You never know when they'll be gone for good. Be nice to your siblings. They're your best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future.

Understand that friends come and go, but with a precious few you should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle, because the older you get, the more you need the people who knew you when you were young.

Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard. Live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft. Travel.

Accept certain inalienable truths: Prices will rise. Politicians will philander. You, too, will get old. And when you do, you'll fantasize that when you were young, prices were reasonable, politicians were noble and children respected their elders.

Respect your elders.

Don't expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have a trust fund. Maybe you'll have a wealthy spouse. But you never know when either one might run out.

Don't mess too much with your hair or by the time you're 40 it will look 85.

Be careful whose advice you buy, but be patient with those who supply it. Advice is a form of nostalgia. Dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it's worth.

But trust me on the sunscreen.


And I suppose the 'review' really is that we are not here for long. And while, yes, it would be great to make up with my wife and get back to where we have been in snatches, they have always been patches on the edge of precipices. So maybe I should just 'endure the betrayal of false friends' and maybe I shouldn't 'put up with people who are reckless with your's'. Not putting up means not reacting as separation is not an option as I have a responsibility - and it would not have been an option even if there were no child in the equation.

Entry 11: Relative Peace

The relative peace continues at home.

After the epiphany moment I wrote about last week, I have been more relaxed. We speak civilly at home but that's about it.

No laughter, no sharing and no joy except for when we discuss our son.

Entry 10: An Epiphany (sort of...)

Life has been pretty calm of late. Partly due to the fact that I had an epiphany moment the other day.

Something has 'clicked' inside me and I wonder if things will ever be the same again - which is a terrifying thought to contemplate given that we are both relatively young. Anyway, the epiphany was that I cannot let this issue affect me adversely: I could easily let this thing gnaw away at me and become the only thing I think about. So, at work as well as at home, I have decided that I will concern myself with and do my best at the things that I control, I will advise in the areas I can influence but ignore the rest and not get upset or excited. This the only way to bring some focus to my mind.

Already I have avoided meeting up with friends - other than close ones - as I haven't been in the  mood to be relaxed and friendly; this I have to correct.

I was telling a close friend I did meet up with about some of my issues, and it occurred to me that I have always relied on my friends to give me confidence. They are the only group who have an unadulteratedly positive view of me and in whose company I feel some worth. One's partner should be there to support, to help, to build up and not to criticise, make one feel small and treat like an idiot.

Entry 9: A Microcosm

A microcosm of why I have given up.

Last Monday and Tuesday I stayed home to do odd jobs around the house - like putting up mirrors and pictures and so on. I had initially brought the stuff out of the garage in August last year and then taken a day off in October to do the work but she hadn't made up her mind.

Anyway, I do the drilling and things, there's dust around. I use the dustpan and brush. No thanks for the work, the minimum help with the activity but immediate criticism for having used the dustpan and brush instead of the vacuum cleaner. Couldn't she have got off her fat arse and gone round cleaning after each drilling if she felt the need instead of sitting around and doing Facebook while I worked?

Entry 8: Help!

No, we haven't spoken about our issues. Life continues peaceably enough but there is no laughter and no fun. But things are definitely not getting better.

She fell really ill on Thursday (3rd) and spent the whole day in bed - some sort of viral. Better on Friday but down again on Friday evening. Drama, drama, drama - 'man-flu' in a woman.

So on Saturday I do about three hours of ironing from all the stuff that had been piling up for weeks. (the cleaner usually only has time to do a few things each week and then I - not she - have to blitz.) This in addition to taking our son to the shops to buy a toy, give him a shower, get him ready, keep him entertained, run the wash and do the drying and prepare lunch for us all. She was too ill to help in any of this but not too ill to work out some complicated train timings for a friend of hers and do Facebook.

And the point is, I do not mind. I do not need thanks and nor do I need praise. But it is the additional heap of criticisms and accusations of being uncaring which truly make me angry. Like, today, early in the morning, I unload the dishwasher, get our son ready for school and drop him off. And then are snide comments about my having forgotten to give him his water bottle and a snack. Yes, I did forget and I should not have but, really, is it fair to focus only on that?

So I come home from work, immediately get down to feeding our son. Am informed that she is still not well and will not be having any dinner. I get a bite from the fridge, have dinner with our son, read him a story, put him to bed and then go back down to the kitchen to clear up. All this time she is too ill to eat or help but well enough to do Facebook.

I met an old friend of mine for lunch last Friday and shared with her some of my frustrations. This is something I have not done before - mostly because I do not see the point of burdening someone else with my stuff but partly out of respect for my wife. The only confidant a person should need is his or her partner. I would have had to let everything out for the lunch to be truly therapeutic but some is better than none.

Help!

Entry 7: A Couple of Examples

Saturday 26th
We HAD to leave at 11 am to be on time for a lunch invitation from a cousin of mine on the other side of London.

Son and I woke up, installed an exercise bike, had breakfast, showered and got ready. All she had to do was (i) make some derogatory comment about what I had chosen for our son to wear and (ii) get ready herself.

My son and I were ready on time but she wasn't: we left at 1130.

Sunday 27th
But, damn, she was ready on time, on the dot at 10:45, for an appointment with her friend whose son was having a birthday party.

All night I squeezed into our son's bed as he was suffering from a fever and I knew that he was likely to run a temperature at night - and it duly came at 4:30 a.m.. Was I told in the morning, 'you were up last night, I'll get him ready and take him to the birthday?' ummmmm ... no!

Monday 28th
A peaceful day putting up pictures around the house - the ones I had had ready since August!

Do I open up? Speak about my irritations? I don't know.

Entry 6: Trying not to care

It was great coming back home last Thursday. She had had the time to cook a roast lunch for her mates but not to pull back the rubbish bins from the street to front yard where the bins live - a distance of five yards. Clearly this is my job.

An uneasy peace now reigns in the house. We talk but not very much, we do not argue and are friendly to our son.

You see that is another reason why I am in this mode of not really caring any more. Because I have held back from criticising her for so many years and just accepted whatever came my way, I find it difficult to be confrontational now. And, increasingly, I found myself losing my temper at my son as a surrogate for my frustrations with her - and that simply is not fair. So, now, by expending no energy on her, I find myself better with my son.

Was watching TV the other day and a comedian called John Bishop came on talking about love and marriage. He mentioned how he had gotten divorced after about 7 or 10 years and put it rather graphically: 'after 7 years, you wake up, you look into each others' eyes and say, "why don't you fuck off and live somewhere else?"'. So, as I suspected at the beginning of this blog, this is not an uncommon story.

I suppose we will get over this episode but it will not be at my expense.

I am taking a couple of days off next week to do some work around the house - maybe we will talk then.

Entry 5: Why this Blog?

Did succeed in going out for my cricket practice yesterday evening - though not before feeding our son, putting him to bed and taking out the trash!

So why this blog?

Well, while this is being written as if it were being read, in reality I am writing it for myself. I do not have a real life confidant you see.

To be fair, I do have a number of close friends - male and female - who could be confidants but why should I burden them with my crap? They have busy lives with their own constraints and my stream of consciousness misery will do them no good.

I like to think I am a reasonable genuine bloke - a nice person. Not perhaps someone with zing and pzazz but decent, friendly and solid. I have maintained friendships over many years which I value and I can say with some confidence that my friends like me. Instead of a supportive atmosphere at home I have let myself fall into a pattern where the one who should support me most (and whom I support), makes me feel not-good-enough.

And, in fact, I was a copious diary and letter writer for many years as I was growing up. Once again, I let out my frustrations on a page rather than another person. It was cathartic at the time and I hope it will be useful again.

For years now I have written down frustrations on scrappy bits of paper - and then proceeded to lose them. Here, then, is where I can keep them.

Entry 4: Is it Laziness, is it Depression?

My mum and dad are pretty old - 74 and 84 respectively. They spend half of their year in India and half here and, while here, do feel the need to have us visit relatively often. Mainly to spend time with their grandson.

Having not visited for a couple of weeks, I suggested going on Saturday and staying over - but she said that she had work on Sunday.

On Sunday, then, I woke up at 8 am, took our son to a film at 11, bought lunch to bring back home - to find that washing was still lying around and she still had not had a shower. Very busy.

We are going to India on holiday in the summer and by procrastinating the prices have gone from £420 to £587. We are supposed to be going to France in Easter and it has been a month that she has been looking at rental apartments.

Is it laziness? Is it depression? I don't know - and, increasingly, I do not have the energy to care.

Entry 3: A First Attempt at Space

Two weeks now and the silence continues. Her cousin being here helps to alleviate the atmosphere a little.

I  have decided that I will start to go out a little and not always be at her beck and call. So, last Saturday I said that I would be going for some cricket nets on the Sunday and that I would have to leave at 11:30 am. She said that she would go to Sainsbury's first as a friend's son was coming around. So far, so good.

Madam woke up on the Sunday at just before 11 - I had woken  up, given our son breakfast, showered him and  played with him by then as well as making breakfast for her cousin - and informed me that I would have to go to Sainsbury's. This made me half an hour late for the cricket.

A small thing I admit - though it incensed me at the time. But it is these little acts of callousness which have made me fed up with it all. I am taken for granted and I have had enough.

About ten days ago she spilt curry gravy over one of the walls in the dining room. This clearly means that we will have to get the whole room painted as the marks will not go. And that's fine - a number of rooms would have needed painting in the summer anyway. I got in touch with a handyman I know in two days and I asked her to get in touch with someone she knows asap so we could compare quotes. Has she done so? Has she fuck.

This is also a consistent pattern. It took her four months to get a gardener in to clean the garden properly and professionally. It has been 16 months and she still has not called the electricians to fit some lights. I brought some pictures and hanging items out of the garage in August so she could decide where they would go and I would hammer the requisite nails - no decision yet. I even took a day off work in October or November to do this work and she did Facebook all day. She procrastinates and then creates a drama. Went to John Lewis to look at lampshades before Christmas and she said she would order on the internet - has she? No - but it will be my fault that we do not have nice lights. I could do it but she took the responsibility and she must see it through.

I am just sick and tired and wish she would just go away.

Entry 2: 11 years - tired, tired, tired

Went to bed last night after the first entry. She turned away - the silent treatment continues. Well, fuck you .... or not, to be more accurate.

A Saturday.

Today milady woke up at 1045. I had been up since 7:30 am with our 5 year old, given him breakfast, played a little, was getting the morning bath ready. Then came lunch preparation while she focused on Facebook.

Before you ask it, no, she does not have a job other than that of being a mother. Her choice - she told me off once for suggesting that she might consider going back and I haven't tried since. As a mother she is wonderful, as a wife.....?

I get home from work and I start a second shift. Feed our son - often preparing the dinner as well - bathe him/shower, read two stories and put to bed.

In the meantime, cooking for our meal - I am not allowed as I have been deemed incompetent - has started at 8. Eat at 9 and collapse at 10. For some reason it is only then that washing can be put up and that is followed by 'oh, I have so much work'- what was wrong with the whole day (or at least from 9 till 2:30?)
But the point is, mostly, I do not mind. From the birth of our son, I have done the waking up at nights. 99% of days I have been home between 6:30 and 7 for the evening meal and sleep. When the cleaner is unwell, I do the bathroom and the ironing; it was me recently who ironed from 9 till 10 and then studied from 10 till midnight as her cousin was coming and clothes and sheets had piled up.

I am tired, tired, tired. 11 years of being patient, 11 years of second guessing her moods, 11 years of clutching at the patches of good humour, 11 years of worrying what she will think, 11 years of being belittled.

Entry 1: Walking Cliche

What can I say? I am a walking cliche. 42 years old, a middle manger in a large organisation in a large city. Married, one child (private school), a terraced house and just over a £90k salary. Leave the house at 7:45 am and come back at 7 pm.

Life has stopped those critical few of significant success but all three of us are healthy, we have good friends and loving families. We should be happy because we have much of what we could possibly want and yet, we are miserable.

Married 11 years and I am falling out of love with my wife.