Yesterday afternoon, J-dog and V-meister kidnapped me and the P-Dawg by gunpoint and forced us to drive them to Red Robin for lunch. As we were waiting for our food to arrive, I noticed my husband eyeing me with a look of concern.
P-Dawg: "So, I've been thinking about what you might want to do when you eventually re-enter the workforce."
Rima: "Are you calling me lazy?"
P-Dawg: "No, no, it's just that-"
Rima: "I'm very busy, you know. Very busy. It's not like I'm running around getting pedicures."
P-Dawg: "No, of course not. But I've been thinking that-"
Rima: "I have too much time on my hands? Because let me tell you something, mister . . ."
P-Dawg: "No, it's not that. It's-"
Rima: "I spend a lot of time on laundry and general home economics. And tidying up. Do you think our family's shoes line themselves up from smallest to largest in the entryway all by themselves?"
P-Dawg: "Thank you. Listen, I'm not saying right away, but hear me out for a minute-"
Rima: "Not to mention menu planning and food preparation. These things don't come easily to me, but I do them out of love."
P-Dawg: "I know you do, and I appreciate it, I really do. But I know you want to eventually get back to work and I've been thinking about some options you may want to consider."
Rima: "Plus there's violin practice, and my charities . . . "*
P-Dawg: "For example, I think you might really enjoy starting your own business. You could do something you love, make your own hours, and not be confined to a cubicle."
Rima: "ARE YOU CALLING ME FAT?"
********************************************************************************************
While I do plan to go back to some form of work eventually, I apparently don't want to talk about it yet.
(And for the record, what P-Dawg had in mind was for us to start our own day trading business. Which I think has something to do with the stock market and is the OBVIOUS CHOICE for a person with degrees in French, English, and Edumacation who has no idea what's even in her 401k plan, regardless of the fact that she is routinely quizzed about it at the dinner table.)
On the other hand, it's heartening to know that the P-Dawg was merely projecting his own career aspirations onto his wife, and not trying to prematurely foist her on corporate America in curlers and a bathrobe.
*There are no charities
Monday, February 22, 2010
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6 comments:
LOL. When Ryan says "We'll just figure something out for dinner" I get all psycho like "WHAT DO YOU MEAN 'just figure something out?' You think it's that easy? What the hell do you think I do all day? There's the planning, the shopping, the cooking! Just figure something out. Pfft!" And all he's trying to do is not put dinner pressure on me. It's my job! I take pride in it!
I believe I have suffered through a version of this conversation.
Homeschooling is a surefire way to prevent being forced into employment.
Ha!!! We're not quite at this point yet but I do find myself rehashing my day to my husband when he gets home in a "SEE I'M NOT JUST EATING BONBONS AND WATCHING REALITY TV" sortof way. Not that he thinks that but...
Re-entry ... isn't that what astronauts do?
We've had this convo -- and my DH thinks I'm going to return to my previous career, the one where I am no longer licensed and haven't done of day of continuing edumaction since our first born was ripped from my loins. Ahh men.
This is HILARIOUS. (Are you calling me fat was my favorite.)
Day trading. Um. Tell him to stick with stethoscopes (sp?) and leave you to your shoe arranging. My husband is a financial and estate planner who has entertained in his office many a beaten up, stressed out, and suddenly poor day trader (who were otherwise smart and successful people).
Doesn't he think you should write? You need to tell him how offended you are at his not seeing the obvious.
This. Is Awesome. Go ahead, Ms. Wallstreet. You'll be fantastic :)
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