Marital Status

As my 20^th wedding anniversary approaches, 21 July, I’ve been reflecting on how much of my married life has been spent as a single person.  Many times I’ve filled out a form and come to the Marital Status section.  My pen has hovered over the Single box although I’ve always placed my tick in the little square next to Married.

     Tony and I made a deal as new parents that we’d always share work so one of us could remain at home with the children, a deal Tony admits he broke early on to establish the first Gadin Ninja grass cutting business.

     “I have to work,” he said.  “If you want to work, put the kids in childcare.”

     I understood Tony’s predicament.  He loves working.  I wanted him to be happy.  I had an education, an opportunity he didn’t have.  It was only fair I supported him.  I could return to work anytime.

     I stopped work, became a full-time mother to a baby and toddler and also the admin chick.  I began to paint to combat the frustration of parenting alone for Tony was cutting grass during the week and driving taxis for a mate on the weekends. 

     After two years, we worked out it was better to lease a taxi and buy a licence.  So, Tony became owner of Strait Taxis (Be strait there!) with a brand new Toyota Camry sedan he called Lady Cathrine.  Again, I did the admin.  Tony worked late and left early.  Often, too often, I went to bed alone and woke alone.  The only evidence of Tony slipping in and out of bed was his side of the bedding turned down.  On Sunday night, Tony regaled me with stories of going to parties or catching up with people between midnight and the home rush in the early hours of Saturday and Sunday mornings.  Many people were surprised when he mentioned he had a wife.

     “I didn’t know you were married,” he reckons they said.  I know because some of them told me when I eventually met them.

     I recall the only night we got a babysitter and I went to the Boat Club and met Tony on one of his taxi breaks.  One woman in the throng commented, “so you’re the imaginary wife.” 

     Tony had a dream to establish Torres Strait’s first Islander-owned fishing charter.  It was my job to support him achieve that dream.  We sold the first Gadin Ninja business three weeks before #3 was born to establish Tony’s Island Adventures.  The fishing charter wasn’t as lucrative as the grass cutting so I stopped painting and went back to work just after I learned I was pregnant with #4.  I had a skill and I needed to support my husband to enable him to continue working.

     When I was 35 weeks pregnant, working point eight, doing admin for the fishing charter and the taxi as Tony worked long hours,  I decided something had to give.

     When Tony returned for a meal break, I rushed down the stairs, holding my swollen belly to keep  balance.

     “I’ve had enough,” I said.  “It’s me or the Lady Cathrine.”

     He didn’t say anything for a few moments and I contemplated life as a single mother. 

     “Okay,” he said very quietly, the closest he’s ever been to tears.  “I’ll sell the Lady Cathrine.”

     I went back to work shortly after the birth and Tony looked after the children.  We engaged babysitters on the days Tony had fishing charters.  Within a year, Tony was frustrated and wanted to work longer hours.  I stopped work again.  When the young ones slept, I painted and wrote, worried that if I didn't do something mentally stimulating, I'd lose the ability to think and speak intelligibly. 

     The fishing charter income and my painting wasn’t enough to support a family so we started Gadin Ninja, mark 2.  This time Tony added tree lopping to the service and we built up a nice little operation.  Tony worked long hours on Gadin Ninja and Tony’s Island Adventures.  I managed the businesses and the kids and in spare time (mostly in the dead of night), I painted and wrote.       

     Fast forward to Atherton.  We established a grass cutting business, The Yard Ninja, but things are quiet, competition is tough and we are not bothering to promote it.  After months of job searching, Tony found work on a casual contract basis and is often ‘under-employed.’ Anyway, his contract ends on 30 June.  I have loved that he’s been playing more of a role of house husband as I work, but he’s found a new interest – prospecting.   

     He’s bought a metal detector, has done a few trips and is now obsessive.  Each night he pours over books about prospecting or he’s sitting at the computer, the screen glowing with the patchy green/grey terrain of Google Earth.  He’s wants to become a professional prospector.  He’ll deck out the Prado, hit the road and be gone for weeks, months at a time.

     I’ve been plagued by old fears; will I have to stop work to enable him to pursue his new interest?  Will I ever be able to spend time finishing that book?  Will we have to struggle financially again?  Will Tony ever want to work and support me and my dream to write?  Why can't we have stability in our lives for once?

     I’ve had it.  I wonder if it’s time to tick that box next to Single.