I usually don’t discuss my husband much here, but he never rarely reads my blog so… whatever. Other than a cordial “excuse me” or “pass me a fork,” we’ve been giving each other the silent treatment for over 24 hours now.
He told me on Friday that he’s hiring a lady to come “help me out” twice a week, whether it be to clean or just watch the girls. Any normal person would be overjoyed by this prospect, but honestly… I think I’m a little offended. It’s not that I don’t need the help – trust me, I do.
I think I do a pretty darn good job of keeping the house in order most of the time. But mainly I just don’t think we can afford it. If all our bills were paid, money in savings, my airfare to BlogHer purchased, then maybe I’d be more open to the idea.
If he actually helped out just a little bit here and there, it would make a huge difference. I’m not asking him to wash the dishes or do laundry, but… he won’t even pick up his plate from the table for goodness’ sake! And I’m not doing it for him anymore, but I don’t think he’s even noticed.
It’s really just the little things that get to me.
Like having to sort out a million white socks that are all turned inside out and just subtly different. I’ve asked him to make the effort to take his socks and t-shirts off right side out multiple times, but for some reason that’s too much of a challenge for him. He said: “Just leave my socks in the hamper and I’ll sort them while I watch TV.” Yeah, that’ll never happen.
I was invited to a baby shower for some neighborhood moms (which took place last night). He refused to watch the girls for an hour and a half so I ended up having to find a sitter through my babysitting co-op. And no, he had no excuse, other than “I don’t want to.” My in-laws came over for dinner last night, and I found it hilarious that at the last minute he changed his mind. I guess he didn’t want them to think that he wouldn’t take care of his own daughters. But I already had the sitter set up so I didn’t want to cancel. The baby has a little separation anxiety and cried non-stop for the first half-hour, so the sitter called me, worried, and I called my husband to go pick them up.
An hour and a half later, he calls me – “Are you EVER going to come home? Your daughters miss you.”
O-M-G. Are you kidding me?? How hard would it be to take them upstairs to bed for once in their lives? That was the first ‘Girls Night Out’-type thing that I’ve ever gone to, for this same reason. What excuse do I give my friends? Um… I have to wash my hair. Or do I tell them the truth – that my husband doesn’t want to watch the girls – and feel totally embarrassed?
I’ve been so incredibly irritable the past few days. Can you tell?! Maybe I’m PMSing. Maybe it’s stress. My period’s a week late. And no, it’s not that, unless it were an immaculate conception. But that’s a whole ‘nother glass of whine.
All those little things are adding up and starting to chip away at my motivation to be a nice wife that keeps a tidy house and makes a wonderful dinner every evening. I’m trying to not let it affect the mommy in me, but it is. My patience is waning, as is my creativity and my enthusiasm… for just about everything.
When I’m stressed I obviously can’t focus, so I end up doing ridiculously time-wasting things like watching reruns of AFV and playing card games over and over on my iPod touch. Yesterday I must’ve spent two hours, maybe three, trying to figure out why my comments were slightly out of whack here. I went through the code line by line until I finally got it. I could’ve spent that time cleaning the house, or writing a few blog posts, but no – my perfectionism got the best of me.
That’s all for now, folks. Laundry awaits.