Okay, so I am so BEYOND irritated right now, but I'm torn as to who I should be more irritated with: myself, or my husband.
Having moved in with his parents, we live in a very small space as compared to what we had before (a 2bd/2ba entire apt).
We now have:
Two bedrooms which are connected by a jack n' jill bathroom being used as our "apt.".
In that space, we have a small living room/office area, and then a bedroom area. Now, we are trying to negotiate how to fit our son into all of that as well.
This is a hard task. It's made harder by the fact that my darling spouse is a SLOB.
Trails everywhere he freakin' goes. Clothes strewn wherever he happens to take them off, crochet paraphernalia (yes, he crochets) here and there, whatever magazines or book he decides to flip through, dishes, shoes, etc.
Basically anything he touches/uses in his daily life gets scattered through our little abode.
It drives me FUCKING nuts. Partly because I am, in fact, a Type Aer who has inherited her mother's reverence for cleanliness (although not nearly as psychotic), but MOSTLY it's because a small space immediately becomes unlivable if it's not kept clean and organized.
And I have TRIED. I've let a lot of things go in the 2.5 years that we've cohabitated, and I've done my damnedest to try and give everything a place, so it's easy keep stuff picked up.
This does not register with him.
The thing is, I feel bad for getting mad at him about it. When we both worked, I didn't feel bad, but now that he's the only one working, I feel like the LEAST I can do is the housework. So now, I DO feel bad, because I feel like I'm not pulling my weight.
This feeling is not as a result of him either. He doesn't care if I clean or not. He's fine with the mess and overflowing baskets of laundry. I'm the one having the nervous breakdown about it.
Before I got pregnant, This wasn't that big of an issue. For the most part, even though I got annoyed from time to time, I did all of the cleaning/laundry, and that was that. But now, it's a different story.
I'm so tired. All the time! It seems like the messes are creeping up on me more and more frequently now. Oh, and the laundry. Good LORDY LOVIN', the laundry. There's always been a lot of it, because my husband is sweaty and changes at least twice in a day, but lately, it's just overwhelming. I can get it sorted, washed and dried, but by the time I get to the putting away/hanging up portion of the program, things fall apart.
I just don't have any energy or focus, which is worse than the fatigue.
So we end up with baskets of laundry lined up on our window seat or next to the bed, which end up being rifled through by the Hubster, and thus strewn throughout creation.
And a day like today will come, a day that is hot, one in which I am tired and headachy, where I look around our space and its piles of mess/laundry and try to imagine our son and all of his stuff coexisting with it all, only to realize that it's going to get SO MUCH WORSE.
--this is when I CRACK.
Yelling is imminent. My poor clueless spouse will walk in the door any minute now, and I will unleash a torrential bitchfest upon him.
But I don't want to. He works hard, and I SOOOO appreciate that. He doesn't care if I do nothing but sit on my ass and eat bonbons...
So what right do I have to chew him out for not putting away his crap?
But at the SAME TIME, shouldn't he put away at least some of it?
Sometimes as he sits there, after work, playing his Xbox, amid piles of laundry as I once again gather up his dishes, I briefly visualize strangling him with the controller cord and throwing the machine out the window....
Other times as he sits there, after work, detailing the mind-numbing day he had, amid the piles of bills he's trying so hard to pay, I'm so thankful that he's willing to do it and come home so happy to be with me every day.
Does any of this make any sense?
I think I just needed to vent.
9 comments:
When I was pregnant with Serena, Brian was working 2 jobs, and we had a full sized bed. So by time by belly was bursting I would have to sprawl out to get any sleep, but I felt so guilty for him working so ahrd I didn't want to disturb his precious sleep, so I would lay...not sleep...on a very small portion of the bed to give him room. He had no idea I was doing this, I didn't want to say anything, but I grew to hate him due to hormones and my own imposed boundaries. It was ridiculous. When I was pregnant with Chloe, I realized he wanted to help me, so I had my body pillow taking up half of our too small bed, and I felt not one shred of guilt, not one. And he was happy to know his wife and baby were getting the best they could. Maybe instead of telling WIll he's a slob, you can word it as, you need his help doing your work because the baby is making you so tired. Make it about what he can do to help you, not about what he's doing wrong. Then he can feel good about helping you, you can feel good that some mess was cleaned up, and you don't have to be bitchzilla queen of the hormonal women of doom.
Bitchzilla, Queen of the Hormonal Women of Doom! Haha! That's totally how I feel too! I think the reason I get so frustrated is that I have tried every tactic in the book with him to get him to be a little more "helpful around the house" as it were, and he just doesn't get it. Not b/c he doesn't want to help, but I think because he just doesn't notice/care about the mess, and thinks that I care/notice waaaay too much. He's the type of guy who won't think to do laundry until he has absolutely nothing to wear. And I mean NOTHING. Haha. Thankfully, after blogging yesterday, I was able to quell my wrath, but he did notice that I was frustrated. When he asked about it, all I said (not yelled) was that I wished he'd be a bit more conscientious about helping me pick up, b/c especially right now, things are kinda overwhelming. So he helped me put away the rest of the laundry, which was great....Then I woke up this morning to his socks and underwear on the floor. Sigh. Small victories, I guess. He really is a sweet man.... :)
Yesterday, not kidding, Brian came home, looked around and said "thanks for cleaning up" and threw his work pants and shoes on the floor and went upstairs. It was so comical I couldn't be angry, wanted to be, but couldn't be.
OH MY GOD.
I had a seriously cleaning fit in the bedroom cos we do the exact same thing!
Jonathan is a saint about getting everything washed and dried, but we NEVER put it away. AWFUL.
I swear, it's a never-ending saga, the laundry....
Wow, I how INCREDIBLE that I faced similar issues when I brought my own Jayne man home. Seriously, we've had The Talk about 49206 times, but I can tell you he HAS improved. Dramatically so.
The most effective things were positive reinforcement [yep, like a puppy], and explaining how I was personally insulted when even a sock was thrown onto the floor that I slaved to clean. PERSONALLY INSULTED.
As talking over my feelings about gender roles. About how I loved him because he didn't put pressure on to conform to traditional man/woman roles, but that his behavior did not reflect his academic views.
As much as I hate nagging, it was the only way to literally open his eyes to my very different view of housekeeping. He simply couldn't see the problems until I pointed them out. But I'm telling you, after two years, DRAMATIC improvements. Miracle!
i'm laughing so much at this.
This too, shall be you, very soon! ;)
i fear we may have all married the same man
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