You know when you’re talking with friends, it’s okay to kvetch without having to preface with a polite caveat like “well you know I love him/her but…”
Here at GeekMom we wallowed ever so briefly in some of that recently. Want to listen in?
OHMIGOHD! Why is it that the ONLY TIME my husband EVER goes on a run is when I ask him to take care of dinner for the evening??? PS: This comes out to between 2 and 3 “runs” a month…
It is 7:30, the kids haven’t eaten yet, I am supposed to be working from home, and I am sitting in my bedroom about ready to SPIT NAILS!
I’m sorry to vent but if I don’t write this down somewhere I’m going to hurl something against a wall. unsigned
Mine does that too, minus the running. He simply micro-obsesses over something minor while letting the actual task languish.
I realized there was no hope of relying on him for vital domestic tasks the day I hosted a Mother’s Day brunch for his relatives. I had tiny unwell children and a nursing baby, meaning it took me several days to prepare the food and gifts. He insisted he’d clean the kitchen and do the dishes. As the time approached I set the table, put the food in the oven, straightened the house, picked flowers from the garden and arranged them, took a shower, bathed the kids, got everyone nicely dressed and came into the kitchen to find the exact same chaos of pans I’d left. He had started to clean the stove but got distracted and had taken all the dials off to clean behind them with a toothbrush.
My policy of not swearing in front of the kids was sorely tested that day. It’s really hard to smile through a dinner for company while suppressing murderous rage. Laura
My DH has this habit of cleaning up after kiddie messes in the following order: himself, the surroundings (floor/table/bed), the child.
My instinct is to do it in the opposite order. I discovered he got this habit from his Dad, who once at a family reunion was playing happily with our toddler youngest son until he spilled milk down the front of his shirt. FIL brought my literally dripping son across the house over to me, hands him to me (still dripping), says, “He needs to be cleaned up” and walked away to clean himself up. I cleaned up not only the child, but also the drips all through the house. unsigned
Despite that fact that you never seen any papers or other debris strewn about the floor inside the house but notice any harm to the yard outside the house, you’re still my Valentine. unsigned
Despite the fact you see your son fall on the concrete and scrape the skin off the top of his nose, you still think giving him the ‘you’re a big boy’ pep talk trumps scooping him up and just giving him a hug so he can sob until it feels better? You’re still my Valentine. unsigned
For Valentine’s day 2003 – when we still lived in other parts of the world – my husband, then fiance, sent me a wonderfully thought out but completely thoughtless Valentine’s gift.
Knowing how much I suffered with menstrual cramps he sent me several boxes of heating pads along with the chocolate hearts. Sarah
As an antidote to all the gooey hearts and flowers stuff, you may want to join in. Care to share a “despite this, you’re still my Valentine” tale?