Confessions of a bad wife: I'm not supportive of my St. Patrick's Day loving man
Do you know what St. Patrick's Day is? The Irish equivalent of Cinco de Mayo. A bunch of Americans grabbing hold of a culture not their own as an excuse to drink themselves sick. Only I think St. Patrick's Day might be worse because everything gets dyed green. Why? Why does the beer and bagel and cake and face need to be dyed green?
St. Patrick's Day--or as it is better known in my house, St. Patrick's Month--forces me to face the cold, hard truth about myself: I can be really bitchy and unsupportive. I wish this wasn't true, I wish I could just get on board, open myself up to the fun that I really could have if I would stop being such a judgemental shrew but alas, I can not. And this makes me a horrible partner.
You see, my man plays the bagpipes. You heard me--and because they are so loud, so did everyone else--the BAGPIPES. Oh, and he wears a KILT. My entire March is spent tripping over green beads, leprechauns and Guinness cans.
It would be easy to say that this is because I am Latina and he is Irish and it is just a culture clash but while it is true--I AM Puerto Rican, I am also Irish. Our son, when you do the math, ends up as much Irish as he is Puerto Rican. Aye, not only am I a bad partner, I am a bad Irishman (Irishwoman?).
Right now, as I write this, John is going from elementary school to elementary school playing the pipes for the kids. While most people would find this really sweet and endearing, it just pisses me off. He never takes the day off--ever--but once a year he takes a day off for this.
And the band he plays with, they are what is called a service band, which means he plays for the fire department graduations or for police officer retirement parties or less frequently now (thank god) he plays home soldiers who died in Iraq as their bodies are received by their families.
And it all makes me hostile.
I usually assign this to my Latinidad and some of that is true. My rhythm loving, dancing self just doesn't understand how anyone can like the drone of that instrument (the tubes the noise come out of are actually called drones). To me it sounds like cats squealing.
The alcohol plays a part. I'm not a big drinker and so I don't love to attend these St. Patrick's Day parades and events he plays because if I wanted to be surrounded by young drunk idiots, I'd pay a babysitter and go to the club.
But really, if I am being truthful, it is the time it takes. And the space it takes up in my house. And the fact that he doesn't wear underwear under his kilt (I do not believe him when he says it is more comfortable, it just seems hot and gross).
Maybe my bad wife confession is just that I am jealous. Well, and I really hate St. Patrick's Day. Oh and I'm not actually his "wife" but that is for another time...
What is your bad wife confession? Are you supportive of everything he does?