Through her eyes

Beth Carmichael opened her diary peering at the never ending list of things on her to do list, and extracted a sticky note which had the time and date of her daughters dance exam on it. She had had a busy day tidying and packaging the endless crap in the spare room so it could once again be used for its purpose. She looked at her watch it was nearly ten past three, and she still had a mountain of things to do before Hamish’s family arrived from Edinburgh. He had dropped that bomb on her, as was his usual way, only two days previously suggesting that his elderly mother sleep on the fold out sofa bed if the spare room was in a mess. She had rolled her eyes behind his back at his sheer lack of organisation, knowing that he would have known about the family visit for at least two weeks prior to telling her. She scooped up a pile of ironing off the kitchen worktop, and bent down to pick up her son’s football boots which were in the hall way, on the way up the stairs she glanced at her reflection in the mirror and made a mental note to book in to have her roots done.
When Beth had married Hamish eleven years earlier she had been pregnant with their first child. It hadn’t been planned, she hadn’t been sure she’d wanted children but Hamish had seemed overjoyed at the news and insisted they do the right thing and get married. She had agreed in haste faced with the alternative prospect of being a twenty two year old single mother, and before she knew it Hamish’s mum and sister had organised a huge soiree that with her emotions completely caput she felt she couldn’t object too.
Hamish had been a good dad at first coming home on time, and getting the shopping, and when one day he had found her slumped in the kitchen, head in hands, unable to cope with baby Sam’s constant crying he had even had his mother come to stay to ease the burden. Beth quickly realised that this was Hamish’s coping mechanism, that instead of facing an issue he just let his mother deal with it. In fact dealing with anything at all seemed totally out of Hamish’s capability, and so she had quietly and defiantly taken on more and more responsibility, only asking his opinion on things she felt he could cope with so as not to be disappointed.
She placed the ironing on the bed, ran a brush through her hair and put on her lipstick. She remembered fondly the day she been accepted into college to study interior design, it had been a week before she had found out the other rather less exciting news that she was expecting a baby. She sighed remembering how Hamish had belittled her aspirations, telling her he wanted her at home and making her feel guilty by asking how she could leave their baby with a stranger. Eleven years later he still didn’t understand how free she felt when she has painting a wall or deciding which fabric to cover a sofa in. She returned her hair brush and lipstick to their designated drawers, put the ironed shirts away in the wardrobe and put on her outdoor shoes, she had Katie’s dance exam to get to.

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