Husband and I climbed many mountains on Saturday - all from the comfort of our own home.
The day hadn't started well. You see Husband hasn't got a UK driving license. Yes, he can drive - better than me, thought that aint saying much - but his Aussie license expired many moons ago and so in order to drive in this country he needs to sit a theory test and then a practical one. Months ago I highlighted the fact that come next Monday - 6th Dec - I will be unable to drive for 6 weeks post section. I suggested he get his cute butt in gear and had some lessons and did his tests. No - I didn't actually suggest it. I demanded it. I gave him ONE THING to do during my 9 month pregnancy - while I did blood tests and scans, and midwives and dressing a fucking bump and all that jazz - he had one thing to sort: to get his license here. He eventually had a couple of lessons in October and finally enrolled for the theory test (which you have to do first). That was 3 weeks ago. I drove him there - he had been practising apps on his i-phone for 3 days solid, on the questions he would be asked. He was buoyant, confident - his average score 48 out of 50. A cert to pass and then the practical test to do. He'd have that in the bag - as he is a more than capable driver.
But he only brought the plastic part of his UK provisional license with him. It is the only piece they carry in Australia. But not here. Nope, in the UK, they need the green bit of paper too. They wouldn't let him sit the test - he blamed UK bureaucracy and I blamed him for being an idiot.
Cue test no 2. Arranged for Sat at 4pm. Now on Fri I had emailed him - an 'end of my tether - I would rather be a single fucking parent than be in this relationship anymore' email that had provoked all sorts of discussions: him accusing me of being 9 months preggers, irrational and hormonal - and unfair to boot, seeing as he has had no assistant in his busiest period of the year. Me: agreeing that I may be hormonal, but also stressing that a week or two of single parenthood and no work has given me clarity of thought.
So, I pick up Sproglet's best mate - we are off to see 'Megamind.' Sproglet's best mate calls it 'Nevermind.' I think on reflection, he may be a genius child film critic and he doesn't even know it. Anyway, I make lunch and Husband and I are cordial at best. He opens the letter of confirmation re: his test. The test I have begged and cajoled him into. His face goes white, then red. And I know. Something is amiss.
I ask him - but he just brushes it off. I ask again - what is wrong? He says nothing. Then he realises that he can't get out of it - so he admits, the test was on the 25th. He got the day wrong - he'd missed it. 8 days until we have a baby and he STILL hasn't done his fecking theory let alone the major practical test. The ONE THING I asked of him. I was so angry, so disappointed, words failed me. I sat down on shaky legs as the tears came and I said two words: 'I'm done.'
He knew he'd fucked up - he tried to say sorry, tried to appeal to me, but I wasn't having any of it. How can I keep relying on a man who cannot be replied upon? It felt like the last blow - the last straw. Words were exchanged but I wasn't listening, I just kept telling him I was done and off I went to stuff my face with ice cream and watch a blue alien try and take over the planet with 2 small giddy children.
When I came home the kids ran off to play and I staggered upstairs feeling more weary than I have done in years. I lay on my bed and cried. Husband gingerly approached, watery eyed and full of sadness - for everything. It all came out - my story on repeat detailed in my last blog post, my inability to be so lonely again - my fears for my sanity post baby, how I can't do it any more. We talked and talked and... we turned a big corner. He heard me. He listened. He finally got it.
Things are going to change he said. I wanted to believe him - and I have to take that chance. Since Saturday they have. Small changes but significant ones. He took today off to accompany me to my pre op meeting. He got up and took Sproglet to school, made his packed lunch. Tonight I lit a fire, made a huge pasta dish and we ate as a family. Tomorrow Sproglet and I are off to his hotel (where he works, not owns!) for dinner. We're getting the tree on Sat. Decorating it with camp glitzy balls that a gay man would be proud of. We huddled together in bed last night, wrapped in many blankets against these freezing temperatures. He is excited about the baby. It feels like a marriage. A partnership. He's going to make changes at work so we get breakfasts together and 2 more meals a week. He's going to make more effort to get up and do family stuff. He doesn't want to lose us and he knows that I have never been more serious than I was on Saturday.
We climbed mountains on Saturday, we really did.
The view from the top is pretty damn good.