Ninapintasantamaria's Blog

{March 16, 2010}   A list.

Things my husband has done in the last week to bug the shit out of me:
Not picking up our child or dropping him off at all last week because he didn’t want to deal with traffic, and then going to get a haircut, and buying ONLY drinks at the grocery store. Because we didn’t need anything else in his estimation. Mine would have been quite different.
Parking his car under the awning, thereby preventing me from parking in my normal spot and making it necessary for me to park down by the basement and haul said infant and paraphernalia UP the driveway at a steep grade. (That’s right, I said up. And I’d just worked a 12 hour shift and driven across town to collect our spawn.)
After said asinine behavior, expecting sex/blow job/both. Seriously?
Disappear all day on Saturday to do routine maintenance on his car after being told specifically that I needed to run errands, such as go to the bank and straighten out our offspring’s bank account, get an eye exam and new glasses, run to work and retrieve my cell phone which someone (and we’re not naming names) managed to leave in her locker due to sudden hurry to get out the door to collect infant across town at the SIL’s who was babysitting for a favor when YCU had been off for at least 2 hours.
Get pissed at me when the furniture repair people show up and only complete half the things he wanted done, hadn’t communicated to me, but that he couldn’t be bothered to stay home and supervise.
Return on Saturday, promising to stay with spawn so I could accomplish these things unhindered, and then disappear again with lovely assistant/friend (I’m being facetious here. It’s his best guy friend.)to pick up a “part for the car”.
Bitch about how ‘I must have run over something in my car, rendering the left front tire bald’ even though he drives my car as well.
Bitch about how ‘I must have hidden/lost the tylenol bottle when we were searching for it this morning at 3am, even though he’s given Fletcher his tylenol too. Because nothing’s ever his fault.
Refusing to get out of bed and help with Fletcher at night when he was off the next day, and I wasn’t.
When he finally did get out of bed, he knew he needed changing, but didn’t want to do it, so wandered around aimlessly till I got up and commandeered said infant and took care of matters myself. If not, a major nasty case of diaper rash would have begun marinating.
Whilst searching for said tylenol bottle completely ransacking the entire contents of my purse, the diaper bag, and all the freshly folded clothes. And not replacing those contents or refolding, thereby leaving me to do it at either 3am when I’m already pissed like hell, or this morning, when (guess what?) I’m pissed like hell.

Things my husband has done to try to make up for bugging the shit out of me:
Bought me my favorite ice cream.
Made me dinner and brought it and a drink to me without me having to ask.

Do we see any lopsided-ness here? Just checking. I laid into him on Saturday about disappearing, and wound up taking the baby with me to run errands. I’m perfectly capable of traveling with him by myself, it just makes things take longer and somewhat inconvenient. I laid into him last night about constantly blaming me for any and all arbitrary happenings from losing some obscure piece of paper, to random car door dings, to misplacing the tylenol bottle, to the baby’s being fussy. I would like some appreciation and respect and some damn deserved consideration. Now.

Quiet Dreams says:

Hmmm. Men don’t get that (often) the sexiest thing they can do for their partners is to BE a partner in all the nitty-grittiness of life.

Here’s hoping he wakes the fuck up.

rosesdaughter says:

Your household sounds like my household. Hmmmmmmmm. Im going to blow soon

g says:

My other half is no better.


Kristin says:

{{{Hugs}}}, I hope it gets better.

Suzanna Catherine says:

Unfortunately, and I really hate to say this, they (men) get worse with age. Don’t have any words of wisdom…but I so GET what you are saying!

Nina says:

You mean they really never are house broken? DAMN it!!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

et cetera
%d bloggers like this: