I’m so fed up right now. Tomorrow is H’s undokai, which roughly translated is Sports Day. Y has been reading the letters from school telling us what to prepare and bring, etc. and roughly translating it himself. Roughly seems to be the key word here. I’m one of those annoying people who likes to know the details of an event that I have to prepare for. I say annoying because the way Y looks at me when I ask such unreasonable questions such as “what time does H have to be there?” leads me to believe that I am abnormal.
Seriously, sometimes I wonder why I am married to the polar opposite of myself. And why we are here where I can’t completely understand the language and am in my impatience and love of directness having to deal with a life of hints and innuendos in a country that shits on women and children and animals..
Hmm, not sure where that came from, but it’s probably because it’s been over two years since I was back in Blighty and I need five minutes there for some stranger to tell me to f off to my face and give me a reality check that Britain is not all Hugh Grant film-like and is actually quite scary at times.
Anyway, back to the undokai crap. So the translation goes something like this, “trainers, changings, short pants, 12:40, sports hat, long sleeves, jumper” This does not sit well with my being a detail person. It’s a bit like asking you to write an essay but to guess what the subject is and the question. Y is bloody PTA, so he’ll be toddling off early. I would rather stay at home. F is 8 kilos and I know it’s not much, but I’m guessing pushchairs aren’t allowed tomorrow and that I’ll be standing with her on my back and L attached to some other part of my body like a limpet.
Y rolls in at 9pm making enough noise to wake F up where I’ve carefully extracted her from my arms just a short while ago and dared not to breathe in case she wakes up. So back she goes onto the breast with her deadly toothy grip and takes the edge off my wine and Grey’s Anatomy time. Then he asks if I’ve put the camera battery on charge. No, I bloody haven’t. I’ve got a grizzly baby who won’t let me do anything. I’m thinking he could do it instead, but he has no common sense and I’m too stubborn and proud to ask him to do it, because after 7 years of marriage I still hold onto the hope that he will take the initiative and do something to help instead of me nagging him to do it. Deep down I know there’s as much chance as hell freezing over.
Then he wants to know what time mil can come over tomorrow. I can’t tell him exactly when I’ll be ready, but if she’s going to make us late, I’m going without her, and she’s always late. And if she’s not late, she’ll be flapping around stressing me out, and F will be screaming because mil scares the crap out of her. Ok, I’ll give him that because there is no way around how I feel about that one.
So he gets sulky about that. Very annoying. Sulking is insanely irritating. So I’m left with a wide awake baby, slamming around charging the battery with a baby attached to my boob and a toothbrush in my mouth while he sits at the dining table playing some computer game on his phone. Sorry, but I refuse to believe that he doesn’t see what’s wrong with that. There is only one parent in this house. I even think a lot of the time that doing everything myself makes life a lot easier, because I’m independent, but the language barrier is a massive pain and the Japanese lessons aren’t getting stopped anytime soon, because thats the last hurdle. I asked him what a sentence meant that my friend had texted me. And he wanted to have a look, but I said it was a private conversation, just that I wanted to know what the sentence meant. Then he refused to translate and started sulking again. Omg, the sulking!!!! I hate being dependent anyway, but being dependent on someone who is laid back, last minute and often unreliable is sooooo stressful.