Husbands, murder and why I never rule anything out........

Today is a hard blog to write; having just had a fight with my husband where he implied I’m a bad parent, I don’t really want to write anything........certainly nothing funny or even informative.  That’s what marriage does for you sometimes – can’t live with your partner and murder’s still illegal damn it.

Of course I blame my father in law; he’s always been a moaning miserable so and so – these days, due to his cancer, you can understand it – but over the last twenty some years, not so much.  So having grown up with a domineering moaning father who never felt anything my husband did was good enough, I suppose it’s rubbed off on him – how could it not?  

Indeed my late mum, God rest her, was very stubborn and I know I’m just like her – so maybe it’s just we take after the most dominant of our parents?  Having said that, being stubborn is nothing to being an irresponsible, pathological liar like my father so, overall, I think I got the better end of the deal.

I get on with my in-laws now, very well in fact.  But it’s not always been so and therein lays the rub.  My father in law doesn’t like independently minded women, and I am certainly one of those - so you can imagine his thoughts on me.  

And, despite being told by a female friend that I would make a good feminist cry because I put my husband and daughter first in everything; that, despite my health, I always make sure his dinner’s on the table when he comes in and such like, I know that I'm no doormat. 
  
I won’t be talked down to because my father in law, and occasionally my husband, thinks that because I’m female I’m somehow deeply stupid, and so must have everything spelt out in a way even I can understand that I’m always wrong.  Naturally I don’t take it and, once my mind’s made up, I won’t be budged either........cue row.

Admittedly we don’t have many; these days it’s almost impossible for me to argue anyway as I find I stutter to start with, and then quickly get to the point where I can’t talk at all only grunt in anger and frustration; this is due to me having had two suspected strokes.  The second one left me with this little argument stopper – I mean grinding to a grunting halt is hardly going to win anyone any arguments is it?

So, for the most part, I don’t rise to the bait and the rest of the time we get on just fine.  But occasionally he’ll have had a bad week at work, or his dad will have completely ticked him off (like last week); I’ll be tired, feeling sicker than usual or in even more pain than usual (as today) and he’ll decide that, since he can’t shout at his directors (or his father), he’ll shout at me instead - needless to say it never has a Hallmark ending.

It can be over anything too; this time it was our daughter and the way he spoke to me about her, a while ago it was cleaning something (I can’t even remember what now) and I remember once, years ago, we even had a screaming row, in a packed MacDonalds, over a chip.....yes, you did read that right – a chip. A single, lone, solitary chip. 

I didn’t want a whole carton you see, so I stole one of his......you’d have thought he found out I'd stolen the crown jewels the way he carried on (in fact I think he’d have been less upset if I had).  Still, it did give the rest of the diners there a story to tell and chuckle over when they got home, so it wasn't a totally lost cause for everyone.

Will it blow over?  Sure; it always does – perhaps not tonight though.  He was wrong and this is one of those times I’m not backing down.  But, I still love him loads and we have a very happy marriage believe it or not.

Still, if he keeps up the bad mood (it’s been a week now of his constantly niggling little grumbles that slowly eat away at your sanity to the point where you want to scream), then who knows – perhaps murder will be an option on the grounds that "he drove me to it, guv honest".

This is Simi, thanks for reading......