Complain At Your Own Risk!

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My girlfriend Monée

I have a friend named Monée. No matter how upset, frustrated or annoyed I become with my husband her advice is always the same, “Work It Out Because There Ain’t Nothing Out Here”!

Today, I was complaining to her about my husband who had just left town for business. I love him dearly but last night I was looking forward to putting S Dot to bed and having the entire house to myself. I had just poured a glass of wine, I looked horrible in the most comfortable way and I was feeling good. But, just as soon as I turned on the baby monitor and settled in for a little “me time” the phone rings. It’s my husband. He was calling to check in, though we had just finished talking face-to-face on our iPhone 45-minutes ago.

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Monée has been there since the beginning of my pregnancy (shown at 8 months)

Every minute we spoke felt like hours. All I could think about was the list of things I had been dreaming of doing over the next two-hours. Two-hours people! 120 minutes. You don’t realize how fast they go when you’re actually enjoying yourself. T-W-O H-O-U-R-S!

As a working mother that’s all I get. I am up and moving from the moment I open my eyes at 5am. Those two-hours are precious. And my husband knows how much I value that time. So, for him to call during my sacred two-hours to chit-chat because he’s bored is frustrating.

Don’t look at me like that. You are the one who chose to read my diary. I know you’re probably thinking exactly what Monée was thinking, “Um, I’m sorry. Are you complaining because your man called to check on you?!” <record scratch> Did I mention that my friend Monée is single without children. <continue music>

Monée has a imaginary score card she uses when I complain about motherhood or marriage, and let’s just say my husband and son are having a hell of a season!

I have found that I have to be careful complaining to some of my friends, because life’s challenges are a matter of perspective. What’s an issue to you wouldn’t amount to a hill of beans to someone else. Short of my husband laying hands on me, I will never get sympathy from Monée (nor should I) because in her eyes I have someone who loves and supports me, and to focus on anything else is a complete waste of time.

My diary entry is this, “Don’t call Monée!”

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