Of course, this is an outdated cliche. Ships no longer need to see each other to avoid collisions, having replaced lanterns and loud noises for radar and GPS, and even us humans have replaced our need for a direct line of sight with instant messaging and so-called ‘social’ media. You get my meaning though. My wife and I spend most of our time passing from one task to another, crossing paths briefly in between.
I’m working, she’s studying. She’s working, I’m with the kids. I take one kid skateboarding whilst she takes the other one shopping. She’s making dinner whilst I’m playing with Lego on the living room floor. I take the younger ones to bed so she can have some time with the teenager, and we meet in the bathroom for teeth-cleaning, where we exchange a brief summary of our respective days, before making sure that everyone is still in the right bed, under the duvet, and that there are no draughts sneaking in under the curtains, carrying with them the threat of another ear infection or lingering cough.
At this point I just want to collapse into bed, whilst Julia, having finally stopped moving, kicks into off-load mode, reeling off today’s frustrations and worries, before thinking (usually out loud) through the worries and frustrations of tomorrow. I often drift off at some point in the conversation and my snoring and lack of attention become another one of the frustrations.
There are some differences between us, which become most upsetting at night when exhaustion strips us of the last remaining shreds of the day’s patience. We are both tired, extremely tired, most of the time, but whereas I can put my head on the pillow and sleep, she can’t, and whilst my sleep is deep and difficult to disturb, hers is light and disturbed by the slightest movement of the duvet or change in the rhythm of a child’s breathing.
I’m often oblivious to the first three times she gets up to comfort a crying child or respond to a call of ‘mamá’, but by the fourth time she’s usually managed to finally wake me up and is pretty pissed off, having only slept in snatches of 20 minutes between interruptions. Her frustrations stem from lack of quality sleep and an incomprehension of my ability to sleep through all but the loudest of noises or roughest of shoves.
I fully understand her, and I wish I woke up first at least half of the time, but I don’t. and when I’m wrenched out of a deep sleep by a frazzled and seriously grumpy wife, I leap (figuratively speaking) into defensive mode, acting the part of the wounded and unfairly admonished. Sparks fly for a bit, sometimes tears too, and then we collapse back into each other’s arms and yet another conversation ensues, involving repeated apologies and vows to find a solution to this seemingly never-ending succession of chaotic days and insufficiently restful nights.
Stuart Westwood 