Tit for Tat

This morning my husband woke up in a tourist resort in Dallas, Texas. He spent the previous evening at a Twins Vs. Rangers game. He arrived home around noon today. He told me he was "tired." Oh poor him.

I wonder how he enjoyed his continental breakfast and the morning paper. I think about his queen sized bed and uninterrupted slumber and I find it very, very difficult to sympathize with any kind of fatigue that he may have going on.

I understand that people get tired of business travel, however, I do believe that two nights away from home must have felt like a gift from the Gods. Two nights sans crying, diaper changing, feeding and breaking up fights, must have been LOVELY. I can only fantasize.

I know it cannot be tit for tat, after all I am the only one with the tits, and thus, I am blessedly tied to my newborn for survival. It is a blessing. My husband argues that he will never experience the feeling of a baby moving internally. He will never know what it is like to sustain life through his body alone. It's a woman's privilege. It is. Yet, I do harbour some jealousy. I'll never be the bread winner. Nobody will ever wine or dine me, heck even my husband never did, when we met at 18 I paid my own way through our first dates.

The division of responsibility is clear, but darn it all, what I would do for one night in a Dallas hotel on an expense account....