Monday Vent - The Pressure of Helping

The holidays are fast approaching and I am starting to realize how unprepared I am. I am thinking about how I can gear up and knock out all of my "to do" list. The problem? I also have my mom's "to do" list. She went in for  replacement hip surgery 1 1/2 weeks ago. She is recovering beautifully, but... she still needs a ton of help. I don't mind doing it, really I don't. I love my mom and I know that I'm the only one that can do some of these things the way she wants them done. My brother makes her crazy with his own agenda and arguing with her about what she needs or doesn't need. JUST DO IT! She wants fabric deodorizer in the wash with her towels? THEN JUST DO IT! Nope. Not him. He argues with her that it doesn't need it and moves on.

I don't ask my dad, because my mom and dad are directly connected by emotional well being. If my dad thinks my mom is doing well, then he's happy. If my mom thinks my dad is happy, then she's happy. Keeping my dad out of it makes everything to him seem like it's going easier for my mom. Doing things for my mom, keeps my mom mentally happy and hence my dad too.

So I know, I could say "no" to her. But I just can't. I know that I will be purchasing all of her Thanksgiving Day food for her and getting it into her house. I will probably prepare of bunch of it too. I know, I SHOULD anyways. Why should she do the bulk of the work year after year? Even if she is able bodied enough to prepare the food this year, her stamina is not back to normal yet. So I say "yes" and "no problem" and "anything else I can do for you?" And then I put more on my plate, to put less on hers.

Who knows when she will be able to drive again. So after Thanksgiving, I will look forward to doing her Christmas shopping. I will do all of this with a smile on my face and a hug and kiss to her, while inside I will be stressing about all of my "to do" lists and my Christmas shopping. 

I do it out of love. I do it out of appreciation of all that she has done for me. I do it because I'm the only one that can. When I do it and feel stressed about it, I feel guilty.

=J

Have you found yourself in a similar situation?

Monday Vent-Bogey Man

It is Monday morning and I am exhausted and in need of uninterrupted sleep.  My husband had a momentary lapse of judgment and allowed our two young boys to watch a part of “The War of the Worlds” right before bedtime. Luckily for them, it was a part where there is a lot of screaming, running, and the aliens suck up people and dissolve their remains into liquid.  If you haven’t seen it, let me assure you it is quite horrifying.  Now, these two boys had nightmares when he had another lapse of judgment last summer and let them watch him playing a video game involving zombies chasing people through a forest.  Those nightmares lasted a few days and they still talk about it.   Although they are typically good little sleepers, they were sobbing and scared when I called them upstairs.  It became apparent that they would not go to their own beds so I allowed them to come into our bed, just to stop the crying.  My husband can sleep through anything, but, unfortunately, two little extra bodies kicking and rolling around kept waking me up, although I’m not actually sure I fell asleep.  I put them back in their own beds around midnight, but one returned by 2:00 a.m.  So, here we are at 5 in the morning and I have to get moving, yet all I want to do is go back to bed.  Thanks honey!!!

Now it's your turn! Come on, you know it will make you feel better!

S-)

My Lame Father's Day Effort

Over the years, I have complained too many times about the time that my husband bought me flowers for Mother's Day, at the grocery store, near the gym, on his way home from working out.  Or the time, that I got flowers, from the same place with the comment "I would have been able to get you a gift, but we did that family thing yesterday." (Insert eye roll here.) So yes, my husband hasn't really blown me away in the Mother's Day arena, but over the years, I have come to accept that, that is just him. It doesn't mean I'm not appreciated. It doesn't mean I'm not loved. He does plenty every day to let me know those things. Also, after being married as long as we have, we have both mellowed a bit, become more accepting of each other and far less critical.

This year, for Mother's Day, I told my husband "Don't get me anything." I meant it. He found time to shop and bought me a pair of capri pants and a cool t-shirt. It was sweet and unnecessary, AND the wrong sizes (admittedly, I have put on a few pounds). Luckily, he still knew where the receipt was and I was able to exchange the shirt and ultimately return the capris.

Which brings me to this Father's Day. My husband told me "Don't get me anything." He meant it. I was OK with it too. I picked out a funny card for him from the kids and checked Father's Day off my list. Until Saturday night, when my kids were getting into bed, and with panicked looks on their faces asked "What did we get Dad for Father's Day?" When I told them "nothing" they replied with "We HAVE to give him SOMETHING!" Uggg... kick me in the gut. Bad, bad, unthoughtful mom. I asked them for ideas, and of course they had none. Now my brain kicks into overdrive. "Are the kids little enough to make some cute little craft and have him be overwhelmed with it?" No, at this point, Dad will know I forced 2 sleepy kids to do a crappy art project when they are capable of creating something beautiful if given enough time. Then, I remembered that my husband was planning on working out early in the morning. I should be able to go pick up something when the stores open and get back home before him.  As it turned out, he slept in. I tip-toed out of the house and started driving looking for anything open besides a Walgreen's (which BTW is where I purchased his "Perfect Push-Up Equipment: As Seen On TV" the day before Father's Day last year). I ended up finding him 2 pairs of work-out shorts. OK, truthfully, I purchased 4 pair, 2 in 1 size and 2 in a larger size because I wasn't really sure what size he wore. So, we are even on the wrong size thing. To cover up for my last minute shopping, I also picked up McDonald's breakfast for everyone on the way home. We threw Dad's on a breakfast tray and carried it upstairs to him. Distracted by breakfast, I quickly threw the shorts (guessed right with the smaller size) in a gift bag with some tissue and "ta-daa!" the perfect Father's Day morning. As he opened the package, he said "I thought I wasn't supposed to get anything." Then he immediately put on a pair.

Come lunch time, my husband automatically made lunch for us all, like he always does. And at dinner, when I offered to make something (meaning = order pizza), he only wanted leftovers from lunch. I spoiled him a bit more and reheated it for him (lol).

What I took from today is that:
I have no room to complain about lack of effort on my husband's part.
I have thoughtful kids.
My husband and I have a good thing going.

=J

Drama King

Why is it that perfectly rational, mostly independently functioning men can go completely ballistic over the most inconsequential, fleeting things and make the entire situation worse? My understanding was that women were supposed to be all emotional and irrational. I’ve always kept pretty tight control of my emotions and apparently, my reward for that is to have a spouse who flips out over nothing and is moodier than an adolescent girl (see, even I buy into the stereotypes!)

Situations that I need to handle because I can do so calmly and logically: taking vehicles in for any repairs and talking with the mechanic, returning items to stores past the return deadline, paying bills, setting a budget, teaching my boys sports, homework. All of these situations turn my husband into an emotional volcano just waiting for a “reason” to erupt. The diatribe has many nuances but the same under lying themes : “the car repair places are a rip-off”,” the gas company/tire store/grocery store etc. charges too much”, “homework is stupid it doesn’t matter anyway”, “the boys just don’t want to play sports”, “I work hard I don’t need a budget but you should be on one”, and “why don’t we have any money since we both make a good living?”

Anyhow, what is prompting this line of thinking is a common occurrence in most households. Our two boys are now ages 6 & 5. They have recently stopped taking baths together because there legs are too long. Now that there is not as much open space in the tub there are many more opportunities for invading each other’s space and wrestling around. They have been reluctant to take showers because they are scared of the water spraying at them. However, at a recent splash park, they finally realized that spraying water is actually fun. My husband took the initiative to help them with their first showers. The six-year-old went first with no problems. As the little one is getting into the shower, my husband asks me to get the tear-free shampoo. I didn’t see what the big deal was, so I said to use the regular shampoo since he already knows to close his eyes when we rinse. Unfortunately, the little guy decided to open his eyes when the soap was being rinsed and running down his face. As he rubbed his eyes, his daddy starts yelling, “OMG, OMG THE SOAP IS GETTING IN HIS EYES!” Just picture a sensitive little drama king in a shower with his daddy YELLING at the top of his lungs about soap in his eyes as though there were shards of glass shooting from the shower head. Little drama king begins screaming and Big drama king continues screaming. Screaming and chaos. I come in and of course am subjected to the accusation that this is all my fault and I have to deal with the carnage. After Big drama king storms off and I enter, putting a dry towel over the little king’s eyes, he stops crying. I ask him if he got soap in his eyes, he says, “yes”. I then ask if his eyes hurt, he says, “no”. I then ask, “why are you crying?” He says, “I’m scared because Daddy started yelling at me”. Imagine that, another completely unnecessary dramatic episode. My little king now says that he will never take a shower again. Gee, I wonder why? Post-traumatic stress syndrome caused by a big drama king.
S-)