Orange you glad you can communicate with your spouse?

A few months ago, I asked my husband to just let me know in advance what his plans are for the week. (I think I deserve a wife-of-the-year award for figuring out how to get him to do this. . . or maybe some sort of Nobel Prize.)

Today is Saturday, and he tells me he's going to the library to study. I ask him to give me some general time guidelines so I can plan the day accordingly. He says he'll start when our son goes to take a nap (about 2 p.m.).

So far, so good. I'm content. We're communicating. It's great.

[Before I go on, I should probably state for the record that I've had a challenging week. Other moms will empathize with me, because:
- I've been taking care of a sick, whiny toddler who just spent the weekend with his sick cousin (a kid his age who loves to hit, whine, yell "NO," and throw tantrums. . . and yes, those things are all contagious, too. My sweet baby has been corrupted.)
- I've had no "time off" since Monday. (My husband took the train into the city practically every night this week for classes and other work events, which means I've been on duty for 4 days straight, 15 hours a day.)]

So the afternoon arrives. Our son is "down for a nap" (which means he's in his crib, kicking and screaming so that he can effectively not nap.) I'm not happy that he's crying. All I want is a few minutes of peace and quiet so I can read my book. The thought of showering crosses my mind. . . and leaves just as quickly. I'm not getting a shower in today.

In my mind, I want my husband to go to the library, finish up, and come back early so he can give our son a bath tonight. I think men should instinctively know that this is what a tired, frazzled, mentally and physically exhausted mom would appreciate. But apparently, they don't come with that kind of programming.

While I'm thinking this to myself (I've learned better than to open my mouth before thinking things through), I'm watching my husband in the kitchen, methodically cutting an orange. I (think I politely) ask him when he's going to go study. By this time, it's 2:20.

"Why are you trying to get rid of me?" he retorts.

I say, "I'm not trying to get rid of you. I just thought you were going to study this afternoon. It's 2:20. It would be nice if you could study and be home by the time the kid is up so you could help out this evening."

"Jeeze, woman! Can't I have two minutes to eat an orange?" Clearly, husband is upset and defends his orange.

I reply, "What? This isn't about the orange!"

"Well, it's always about something." Husband rolls his eyes, huffs, and leaves visibly upset.

So now we're arguing about an orange. To be continued . . .