What a wonderful date night. Nathan and I spent this evening chowing down at our favorite spot to reminisce about the old times. We went to Domo 77, a hibachi steakhouse that has been around forever and probably has not been redecorated since its inception in 1977. It is one of those establishments where the chef cooks your teriyaki chicken right at your table where you sit shoulder to shoulder with complete strangers. Being left handed, this it a tiny bit irksome; I either elbow Nathan the entire meal or irritate the ever-loving shit out of the elderly woman next to me. Needless to say, I let the old lady have it.
Spending a meal where we made it “official,” where we celebrated many a birthday and our first wedding anniversary really puts things into perspective. The portions have gotten smaller and the prices have risen, but it still is, in essence, a place where time has stood still. I sat for a moment and gazed at the seats where Nathan asked me to be his girlfriend, and I cannot think of how much we have changed. Sure, we have increased our mass and gotten a few wrinkles and grey hairs since then, but I wonder how much of those kids still exist. I am still a drama queen and cry every time I see the Lion King. Nathan is still an asshole and a crazy driver. Now we are parents; oh, God, actual parents and I never could have foreseen that twelve years ago as we shared a plate of egg yolk shrimp (which is still what we both order each and every time, though now we pair it with lobster or fillet instead of the cheaper-chicken). Am I ready to actually be an adult now? Like it or not, I guess I made that decision the moment I decided to stop my daily dose of Ortho-Tri Cyclen. It is crazy to think that fifteen years from now, Finn will be the age that Nathan and I were when we met, fell in love and (gasp!) had sex. Jesus, I better start practicing my “Always-use-a-condom-and-never-in-my-house-and-if-you-get-her-pregnant-I’ll-kill-you” speech… I might have my opening statement if I get cracking now.
On the way to pick up Finn from Nana and Grandpa’s house, we talked about how we still trust each other and still love one another. (It is insane to think that this is the same guy who I used to be afraid to fart in front of.) During this conversation, I realized that while Nathan has gotten to be the best husband/boyfriend that I have ever known to exist, I also realized that I have become a parody of the nagging wife. Oh, I never thought I would see the day where I would call my hubby to find out what time he was going to be home because I was going crazy with the baby. Now it seems like that is all I ever do, and I hate myself for it. What the hell happened to me? I want to be as good of a wife to him as he is a husband to me, and I have no idea how to do it. He has gotten more tolerant, me – less. He used to be an asshole to everyone, now he makes an exception for me and Finn. But, I used to be a bitch to just about everyone, now it seems it it just to Nathan. After all this time, it is the ultimate irony that he deserves that less than ever and I am dishing out second-helpings of it.
I spent the last five years making a place for myself with my career, thinking “Oh, isn’t this great, women can do anything and everything,” and now I just want to stay home with Finn. I turned myself into a feminist, tree-hugging hippy, only to revert to a housewife who fills landfills with Pampers that will take twelve billion years to disintegrate. I used to make more money than my husband, (to his delight, and hence mine) and now I don’t bring in a dime. I was a poseur back then, or I am now. Either way, it is pretty pathetic. What are my options? I can go back to work to feel like a contributing member of society and let someone else raise my baby, or I can stay home; never to extract myself from my sweatpants and sleep tight knowing that Finn is in good hands and I alone am to blame for my child’s neurosis. I was raised Lutheran, but I think I am beginning to understand the whole Catholic Guilt thing.
Here is what I have determined, so far. I’m screwed either way, so I choose to stay home. I can at least be comfortable doing that and I never have to b.s. my way through a self-review while I do it. As for being a better wife; I don’t even know where to begin. Kathy Bates decided to fashion a sexy getup out of Saran Wrap. I could start there.