Tonight my husband talked to me for an hour and a half with no distractions. That’s a pretty big deal. It’s not that we don’t talk, but we’re both usually caught up in our own activities, and the conversations are fragmented. There was a time not so long ago that we couldn’t speak to one another without it feeling forced, or resulting in a heated disagreement. I hesitate to say fight, because we never really fought. We’re both fairly restrained, laid back people. Of course, that’s only on the outside. My brain is a nuclear reactor. His brain, I’m not sure. He has the ability to not think about anything, which makes me unbelievably jealous. He is notoriously passive-aggressive, though.
In order to get him to open up, I had to ask him lots and lots of questions, and he’d only respond to the question. It almost felt as though I was interrogating him, but I really just wanted him to talk to me about stuff. Work, life, what’s on his mind. Now, all I have to do is ask him ‘what’s up?’, and he can use that one question and talk to me until I have to interrupt him for a bathroom break. I love it. It’s the most amazing feeling that he’s comfortable with me like he was when we were dating…for the whole three months before we got married. Impulsive, much?
He was about an hour into his rant, that started with ‘what the hell do I want to be when I grow up’, and then it shifted to him talking about the idea of farming with his Dad sounding more and more appealing every day. The 8 year old version of myself wanted to beat up the 33 year old version of myself for the reaction I had. When I was a kid, I wanted to live on a farm. I wanted one of every animal, from a chicken to a zebra. In fact, living on a farm or homesteading followed me into adulthood. It’s all very hard work, but it’s also fantastically satisfying work. If you were to ask me right now if I want to move to a farm, I would first ask you, “Will his Mom be there?”
His parents own a farm, but live 45 minutes away in the city and commute to do chores 3 or 4 times a week, since cows pretty much care for themselves. The house at the front of their property just went up for sale, and the owner agreed to sell the house for payoff on his loan which was an extremely good deal. I got the news tonight that they’ll be closing on the house in April. Good for them!
So, when he basically said we should move out to THE farm, an involuntary whine escaped from my throat. Dead giveaway that I wasn’t a fan of the idea. I need to be at least an hour away from his Mom at all times, preferably at least 3. 42 is even better. She is one mean woman. I can’t handle that. I actually felt the need to cry while imagining I lived 10 acres away from her. Apparently I started chewing my nails, because he told me to quit it. One tear rolled out of my eyeball, and that was that. The show went on, and he continued on with how he can make it work if he gets his IT certs, which will give him the option of working from home. EEEEK! Oh, Dade, I love you, but this marriage works because you leave the house 5 days a week, and it doesn’t hurt that we live 7 hours from our families.
Such a reaction could have derailed him, but it didn’t. That’s both good and bad. Good that I didn’t offend him so much he shut up and kicked me out, but bad that he kept the Mama’s farm train rolling, which jack-hammered the idea into my head over and over and over again. Fuck, I can’t stop thinking about it. It’s awful. Worse things could happen, but I’m drawing a blank as to what those might be right now.
The good news is, he has at least 4 certifications for his admin job that he needs to study and test for, and then after that he gets a new set of orders for this base that starts the timer over for a 4 year assignment. I have at least 4 years of life left before my mother in-law buries me in her back yard. I’d better get started on that bucket list!