I was tired. I was trying to recover from Laryngitis and an ear infection. I had been working since 7am, and would continue to work until 5pm, the same as I did every day.
I work a full time job, take care of 3 kids, and go to play rehearsals Monday through Thursday. On Friday evenings, after a full day of work, I catch up on any time I might’ve missed for work because of kid’s doctor’s appointments or school meetings. I spend my Saturdays, much like my husband, wrapped up in a blanket on the couch, binge watching Netflix. Sundays are spent corralling kids, getting homework done that they “forgot” they had, and generally getting ready for the next week. I am extremely limited on my extra time.
Let me repeat that- I am extremely limited on my extra time.
Prior to our little war that began 5 (or was it 6?) days ago, I’d spent a portion of that ‘extra’ time helping my husband study, yet zero hours memorizing my script.
I was tired and I was busy. This time I told my husband that I couldn’t help him study. He did not appreciate that.
The fight basically boiled down to one thing: MY time.
I was feeling like he believed that his time was of more value than mine. He wasn’t shy about telling me that my feelings were right!
At the end of the day, his job is to kill bad guys. At the end of the day, my job is to answer emails. His job, is more important. I don’t disagree with that now and I didn’t disagree with it then, either.
The point I was trying to make was that even though his time is valuable, so is mine.
