Tuesday, December 16, 2008

Work widow

Being a new mum can be isolating enough, but being a new mum in a new city with a husband whose job is demanding evenings and weekends is down right shiterific (hey! a new word!). Here I was, all thinking that hey, I'm a grown woman with her own interests and life and I really don't depend on my spouse to have a life so I'll be totally OK with him working until 6 every night and at least one full day on the weekend.

Hmmm, not so much.

It's not like he's around during the day, and that's okay. Chou and I have our routine, and more often than not, we both get a little put out on the weekends when Mr. Wumpus is here disrupting things. Still, we like him so we make the effort. But evenings? Evenings he's always been home for, usually by 5. It's been a month now of more like 6 pm, and seeing as wee Chou starts her bedtime routine around 7 to 7:15, that doesn't leave much time for daddy daughter time (or sans-Chou time for me, but that's secondary).

Yesterday, it all sort of smacked me around. We had temps nearly in the double digits (ABOVE Celcius. In December. I know, weird), and all I wanted to do was get in 3 miles sans-Chou. My last two runs have been really disappointing - first with the stroller and feeling like I would collapse, then in the snow and slush and ice sans-stroller and feeling about the same. I just wanted to get out there and knock out a feel-good few miles in celebration of my signing up for my second half marathon.

By nearly six at night, with no sign of the husband, I knew I wasn't going to be running. I was also bored out of my face and tempted to eat every last cookie in my freezer. I was pissed off that I hadn't worked out earlier in the day, and kicking myself for being stupid enough to think I'd get a run in with at least half light (the sun sets by 4:30. Stupid winter).

And maybe that's part of the problem. I wake up in the dark, I head out for some sort of errand or visit, I work out while the Chou sleeps, then I twiddle my thumbs around here, make dinner in the half dark and then, boom, it's dark and my husband isn't even home from work. Have I mentioned it's dark at 4:30? Yeah, next week's solstice couldn't come soon enough.

What's really getting me worked up is that apparently it's one particular person at the hubby's work that's creating this need for so many hours, and not everyone else has to do it. It's this lopsided time demand that's really getting under my skin. Well, that and my lack of running, combined with wanting to eat everything in sight while being bored.

Hey, at least I've got a cute kid. There's always an up side, right?

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