I think I’ve finally written enough letters to you where I don’t quite remember whether I’ve talked about certain things because everything’s just blurring together. I suppose if you go back and find multiple letters talking about the same thing, you can take it as a sign that whatever it is, it had a big impact on me or was just a relatively consistent issue in my life.
I suppose that first paragraph is really a long-winded intro about the fight your mom and I got into today. As usual, I don’t even remember how it started or how it spiraled into a public spectacle where I’m pushing your pram and walking 10 yards ahead of your teary-eyed mom, as we try to make our way to a Nando’s of all places. The sequence of events is murky, but I think it goes something like this because it usually goes like this: your mom gets annoyed because “I’m not listening” and I obviously think I am listening, then she’ll say something while she’s exasperated which I take exception to and then I am mean to her.
[Do I really listen to her? I think I do, but perhaps it’s a classic “Men are from Mars and women are from Venus” sort of situation. I honestly think our world views are just very different. I’ve often thought about how to explain it to someone because it’s not as simple as something like I’m an optimist and she’s a pessimist. It’s like we take different methods of transport to different locations – our conclusions are different and how we get to those conclusions are also different.]
I’ll be the one that usually apologizes first – I don’t want to speculate why lest I get myself into trouble from this letter. I often feel very bad about the situation once something secular requires my attention (e.g., I can’t stay angry at your mom and the negative emotions often melt away when something else distracts me such as ordering lunch). So I apologized after we situated ourselves in a Nando’s booth.
My take-away from today’s fight though is that your mother and I are often on the same chapter, but not the same page when it comes to raising you. For example, this morning before we left, your mother felt I could’ve been preparing your lunch instead of folding the laundry while she was busy with you. It’s a series of small things that add up and just leaves her feeling frustrated. I don’t blame your mom for feeling that way even though we both know I’m trying to be helpful. She says I can’t prioritize, which is partly true since I often feel like I can just do everything and we all know that’s not true, particularly when a kid is involved. All she’s looking for on the weekend is help managing you. I’ll work on it. Like they say, and as much as I think it’s unfair, happy wife happy life.
Anyway, here’s a happy picture of us in case you’re starting to get too down. We make cupcakes for each other. Life is fun with each other, including the drama.