The True Story of How My Marriage Was Abducted By Aliens

Priss & Vinegar

My daughter was just a few weeks old when it first occurred to me that I might hate my husband. Our house was a wreck: he kept tossing clothes onto the floor inches from the hamper, forgetting to close every damn drawer and cabinet in the kitchen, and leaving dirty plates on the coffee table. We argued constantly about the baby, with him second-guessing the organization of a nursery I had painstakingly catalogued and me sobbing that he had no idea how hard it was to exclusively breastfeed. And then one afternoon, as we drove past his once-favorite watering hole, my husband dared ask when I thought our life was going to “go back to normal.”

I cried.  I yelled.  And for the first time ever in our relationship, I looked at my husband and thought, it might be better if you weren’t around.

In my defense, I was TIRED…

View original post 556 more words

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s