Thursday, February 22, 2007

Men! (a rant)



Where do I begin? Yesterday, I gave a research paper, which had taken me hours to prepare.



"Good luck, dear!", he yelled, as I left the house.



"How did you get on?", as I came back from work.



I jest, of course. So, you might reasonably ask - when did my dear spouse remember that, actually, his wife had been doing something significant during her working day?









1.15 am, after he had watched some late-night TV whilst I slumbered beside him on the settee. I was knackered. So, when we finally staggered upstairs, I fell into bed, reached for the alarm-clock, and commented that at least I didn't need to set the alarm for 6.30 am this time.



It was as though a light had come on. "Your paper! How did it go?"



"Who cares? You don't!", as my head hit the pillow and I went straight back to the land of Nod ...



I suppose 5.5 hours sleep isn't bad going, but I still wasn't in the best of moods when the alarm clock woke me this morning.



"Mum? My foot's still sore ..." There was no swelling, no redness, but Viola-Kid had been grumbling about it since Monday. There was nothing for it - he'd have to go to the doctor. He was only at the surgery last week with a sore hand. Anyone would think he was accident-prone!



Could Super-Spouse take him to the surgery? He wasn't (we thought) due at work until 11.30 am. No. A colleague had misinformed him, and he had to be at work earlier. Better not risk it. (And, I thought privately, if we ended up going for an X-ray, then it was better for me to be late at the library than for Super-Spouse to be late at the crematorium where he plays the organ. Books can wait more readily than grieving families.)



The doctor was sympathetic. No swelling, no redness, no need for bandages or tubigrip, no need to miss PE at school, and he didn't recommend amputation as he thought it too messy. I don't think Viola-Kid realised his leg was being pulled ...



Back to the house to take Calpol before rejoining his classmates. Super-Spouse was equally sympathetic, but still didn't want to take him to school. Because now - wait for it - HIS whole leg was sore. Men! Don't you just love 'em?

(Image from parentscentre.gov.uk - it's a website about family health.)

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