A letter to The Man

I know you want to fix me, but I’m not a broken toy.
Your trusty letter opener and superglue won’t work on me.

I know you don’t understand what is going on in my head.
How can I expect you to, when I struggle to myself?

I know finding me crying in the dark seems irrational to you.
But for me, sometimes it’s the only thing that makes sense.

I know you have been trying hard to be supportive.
I appreciate your efforts so much, even when you falter.

Above all else, I know that you love me unconditionally.
Right now that is exactly what I need.

All my love

Née

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10+ reasons not to marry a bricklayer

I need one of these shirts from zazzle.com.au!

The Man is back at work. It was so nice having him home over Christmas. Primarily because The Man who works is different from The Man on holidays.

He is a bricklayer.  Yes, when I was very young and VERY naive, I got sucked in by the whole tradie thing.

The Man was unlike any guy I’d been out with before. He drove a ute, he drank beer, he worked hard and he got dirty. 14yrs on and nothing has changed. He may drink less beer, but only just.

I love him as much as I did 14yrs ago, but there is one aspect I’ve come to dislike, loath even. His job.

So, ladies with daughters, listen up. Here are some very valid reasons why you should never let your girl marry a bricky. NB: The following probably apply to other trades but brickies are my area of expertise.

1. They smell. Bad. Every day.

2. They shed sand everywhere and are grimy. The Man leaves a residue on everything he touches. Like my steering wheel or my nice new iMac keyboard *grrr*

3. Their dirty laundry is horrendous – see points 1 & 2 above. Your washing machine will never forgive you.

4. Their work hours can be unreliable and unpredictable. I rarely know more than a day ahead when The Man will be working on a weekend or finishing late or early etc and neither does he. Plans for Saturday? Make them Friday.

5. Work itself is unreliable. No work = No pay. Hello GFC = Goodbye 5 year plan.

6. Their working day starts early. The Man’s alarm clock goes off at 4.30am.

7. Anything that goes to work will become work property. This is because one day in dirty, dusty, grimy conditions renders things unsuitable for any other purpose. Think clothing, towels and your favourite Tupperware.

8. Their bricklayer & tradie mates are loose cannons and generally a bad influence.

9. Bricklaying is HARD WORK. Literally back-breaking. One day your man will come home with some sort of injury and will need nursing. Think man-flu but a million times worse. (Also see point 5 above: No work, No pay)

10. Further to above…bricklayers work hard all day in the hot sun. Come knock off time, it’s a cold beer and game over (apart from point 12 below). There is limited opportunity for the “dump and run” that mums often desperately crave by the time hubby comes home from work.

Additional points if your bricklayer is self-employed: 

11. There is no bricklayer’s office at a job site so random bits of wood, wall and brick are often used to document random important bits of information. These miscellaneous pieces of crap WILL make their way into your house.

12. There are endless important phone calls at inconvenient times e.g. dinner time, bath time, that time when your child projectile vomits all over your favourite wool shag pile rug, meanwhile the other is trying to climb onto the roof. That sort of thing.

I know by now you are thinking I’m an awful person, but truly I’m doing a community service by highlighting these issues for prior consideration to committing to your bricklayer.

I’d like to reiterate that I love my husband. I’m grateful he works so hard to earn money to support us.

I just really hate his job.

How do you feel about your partner’s profession? Love it or loath it?