Yesterday MBB came home late. As usual. It was almost 11 pm. Sigh... Our routine is this. I leave the house at 6.30 am, when it's still terribly, terribly dark. MBB on the other hand is still comfortably snoring away, tucked under the faux suede comforter. Rightfully so, given that he only got home at 11pm the night before and after an hour of winding down, he'll only crawl into bed by midnight. On top of that, he is a light sleeper and wakes up a few times in the middle of the night, partly thanx to yours truly, who is also a light sleeper.
Then we get through the day and I am home usually by 8pm but MBB is still in the thick of things at work. So by the time he gets home, my eyelids have turned to lead. While MBB winds down, I'm halfway sailing to La-La Land.
See the problem? This is why my weekends are EXTREMELY precious to me. Hence the resentment if I am expected to work through the weekend!
Back to yesterday.... When MBB came home, he told me his management is exploring the possibility of shift work. There'll be 3 shifts, Morning - 7 to 5, Normal - 8.30 to 6.30, Late - 11 - 8.30. When I heard it, I got a little mad. Why? Because this arrangement gave me hope.
It made me believe that he would be able to come home give and take an hour, so I expect that I'd have him to myself by 7. It made me believe that there'll be more time spent with him.But the sad reality is that he will still be at the office way after 5. The only good thing I see about this shift thing is that on days he works the late shift, he'll be able to sleep in a little more.
Now, I am optimistic to the point of being annoying. Especially because most that surround me are cynics who see the glass as half empty. But for the case in point, even I, the ever optimist, cannot see the my situation improving.
Am I being unreasonable? Am I being a difficult wife? Am I not trying hard enough to understand the demands of his job?
Right now, I just do not know.