Hey Jakey,

I love to watch you wake up from a deep sleep. You squirm, grimace, smile, fart, wiggle, stick your fingers in your eyes, sigh, grunt, snort, smack your lips. You give it everything you've got in your cute-baby arsenal. Daddy says, "He sure knows how to wake up..."

Speaking of your daddy, hmph. He's got to get a job and soon. This duplex was not big enough for the both of us today.

I spent the early part of the morning doing some housework, the kind of stuff that I can do with one hand, cuz I've got you draped over one arm. Starting a load of laundry, putting stuff back where it belongs, tracking down all the different bits of the Sunday paper strewn around the house and throwing it away. He walks in the door from running errands and first thing he says is, "You know I hate it when you stack dirty dishes by the sink." HELLO... I can't wash dishes with one hand!

What this statement means to HIM:
"You know I hate it when you stack dirty dishes by the sink."

What this statement means to ME:
"I so completely don't care that you got up 4 hours before I did to feed and change the baby, then stayed up cuz he wouldn't go back to sleep."

"You're an inconsiderate slob."

"I lost my job and I'm stuck in this house with you, so I'm going to make YOU miserable, too."

"Of all the shit going on in our lives right now--unemployment, bills, a sketchy car, a screaming infant--right now I'm going to focus on the stupidest fucking crap imaginable: three dirty glasses and a used baby bottle sitting next to the sink."

"Your breast milk is poisoning our son."

I mean, REALLY! I flew off the handle (whatever that means...) and let loose with a string of horrible accusations, curse words and pent-up anger and frustration, then spent the rest of the day ignoring him, which is pretty difficult in a house this small. At about 6pm, we finally reached an unspoken agreement that the row was over. He made me stir-fry and bought me Hagen Dasz. Whatever. It's over until next time, I suppose.

So that's how your daddy and I communicate, Jakey. He says really stoopid, ignorant shit, and I grossly over-react. It's like a script, really. One of these days, and it won't be long, you'll start talking, and you'll be written into these little one-act plays, too. I betcha can't wait!