Wednesday, September 19, 2012

The Green Eyed Monster

My FF is going through a bit of a rough patch.  I am hoping to help him work his way through it, but ultimately it is up for him to do so.  And I find myself not being very helpful in my mind.  In fact, I find myself being very jealous and almost bitter in my mind.  There has been a list of things that he is "going to do" since we moved in June, that are still not done.  He had 5 days off a few weeks ago, hurt his back for the first two days and caught a bug the next three (which I am now working my way through - thanks for sharing with me).  So, he spent most of those 5 days laying down or sleeping.  Did he need it, sure.  But these kind of things ALWAYS happen where there is something big to be done.  <sigh>

So, this week, 5 days off again.  We are on day 3.  The DUNGEON, aka our basement has not been touched.  Shelving has been bought - still not tended to.  One side of the basement is impassible - you cannot get from here to there.  The other side is a dangerous obstacle course and I have sworn off laundry until I get there without hurting my back trying to keep my balance.  And so of course, laundry has piled up.  Groceries in my mini grocery store can't get put away because those shelves are not yet up.  He had my nephew put together our bed frame.  Yeah, he has the mechanical skills of his father.  Sorry boys, that means NONE.  SO, one of the supports, let go - on my side - and has been on his honey list for a month.  My back can no longer handle sleeping on a 45 degree decline. I sleep on his side when he is at work and Sunday night, I just slept on the couch. I suppose I could take care of it myself.  I am more than capable of using tools.  In fact, I was the only one who came into this marriage WITH tools.  But it is the point of it.  The point is he needs to help.  This was his week to help.  And yet - not so much.  I suppose, he did notice my glances to the sink when we got home from N's football game at 8:15 last night - he loaded the dishwasher.  Anyone want to bet on whether or not it got UN-loaded today??  My advice, save your money.  It didn't.

Embedded image permalinkRemember in my last post, I told you I sent him a text about the girls' room.  Yeah, that didn't get done that day.  So, yesterday, about 45 minutes before we got to the house after school (to pick him up for N's football game because he left his wallet in my car and no gas in his truck and could not get down to K-town for the game and so I spent an extra 80 miles driving) he started cleaning their room.  Here was his answer - put all the toys in plastic bags and make the girls cry.  Really?  That will do it??  How did that work for ya when you did it with your oldest.  Soooo, you know what I will be doing.  I will be actually spending the time to put those away on Saturday AM.

So,back to today, he sent me a text while I was teaching.  I responded over lunch and got one word replies.  Really?  Sorry to interrupt.  So, I have him a call.  His only real response, "Wow, you sound like crap!"  Nice.  Thanks.  Probably because I am sick and get up before 5am to get your kids to school two counties away because your job has residency restrictions.  Probably because I have to TALK to my juniors and seniors while my throat is on fire.  Probably because I don't get to sleep while I am sick because I have to still grade papers, referee arguments, go grocery shopping, make dinner, fold laundry, clip coupons, create Prezis, answer emails.  While you get to sleep.  

And then my jealousy got worse.  He was at his sisters having lunch.  In and of itself - awesome.  What makes it hard - he gets to do it without kids.  I consider it a luxury to GROCERY SHOP without the kids.  To do that, I go at 6am, before they get up for Saturday cartoons.  And once again, there is something it gets to do without 4 muppets in tow.  And I was am jealous.  Jealous of the freedom his career allows him and angry over the extra work it creates for me.  I will get over it.  Probably around the time the weight comes off of my chest and I can breathe without barking like a seal or squeaking like a 14 year-old boy who has hit puberty while I am discussing the two sides of the Euthanasia debate.  I know that fair is a weather term and not a part of life.  I get it and I accept it.

But, sometimes, it still sucks.
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