Yep, you read that right.
My husband, a big, giant, selfish jerk. I’ll elaborate.
Currently, I am a stay at home mom. I do the cleaning, laundry, child caring, and most of the cooking. If I want to give the guy a chance to defend himself, I will give him credit where credit is due. The Man with a Plan can cook! He cooks most weekend meals. They take him all day, they are delicious, and I usually plate-ago on it.
Before I continue, I should explain plate-ago. It’s a term we came up with to describe our over-eating. That feeling where you are completely full and can’t eat another bite but yet get up and make yourself another full plate of food. The point where you should have stopped eating, an entire plate full ago. Plate-ago.
Back to why he’s a jerk though. I get that he works hard, long hours. He deserves some down time, a rest. I don’t mind doing most of the housework but shouldn’t I get a break too?!
I’m not asking for a vacation. I don’t need an entire weekend or even a day off! In fact, sometimes, all I want is a shower. 15-20 minutes, all by myself. To clean, recharge, and practice my Grammy acceptance speech. WHY IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK FROM HIM??!!!?!?!?
The other day, I had made breakfast, fed everyone, then cleaned up said breakfast mess. I then announced, loudly, I was going to shower! My husband knows, this is my sacred time. A time for me to gather my thoughts, mentally prepare for the warfare that is child raising. He usually supports me being clean and having a moment to myself. He usually embraces having a clean, happy wife. I say usually because the other day, he decided to ruin everything.
I made my announcement, making sure that everyone in the house heard me. I went to the bathroom, closed the door, and started the shower. Now, if we’re being honest, I will admit that on weekends I might, sometimes, occasionally dilly-dally a bit longer than I should.
Normally, he allows such dilly dallying and has the graciousness to ignore it. I have the ability to perform a complete shower in 4 minutes, dirty clothing on to fully dressed in clean clothing if need be. But hey, it’s the weekend, I’m going to party hard, let loose and stand in the hot water a few extra minutes and even dry myself completely…. until he RUINED IT!!!
There I was, happily ignoring my entire family when I hear a door crash. Not a gentle, Man with a Plan forgot something and is sneaking in so he doesn’t disturb by precious alone time but a giant “I’m three and here to ruin your life” kind of door crash. Then, there he was, the Boy who Breaks Everything. He opens the shower door, which is glass and completely transparent by the way, to talk to me. He needs help with his train. HIS TRAIN!!!!!!!! I ask him where Daddy is, he says he doesn’t know. He can’t find him. I tell him to wait until I am dry so I won’t destroy the electronics in the train and ask him to leave, making sure to close the door behind him.
He leaves. The door is completely wide open.
It’s ok though. I can salvage this! Yes, the door is open and the cool air conditioning is starting to take its toll on my relaxation but hey, I’ve been through worse. I can power through.
But alas, the door is open. Naturally, that must mean Mom is available. In case you missed everything up to this sentence, quick reminder, MOM IS NOT AVAILABLE!!! It’s her precious shower time….. GO AWAY!
Doesn’t matter, door is open, Mom is available.
In walks Sweet Girl. She needs water, with ice of course. I have seen this little adult get herself ice water on more than one occasion. In fact, she normally doesn’t ask. She goes to the kitchen, gets a glass, fills it with ice and water. I’ve seen her do this successfully on multiple occasions so I have to ask her, why can’t she do it herself? She doesn’t know. Natural follow up question, WHERE IN THE HELL IS YOUR FATHER?! She’s doesn’t know. She says she can’t find him anywhere. Also, yeah, she knows the difference between everyone words and grown-up words. No judgement zone here!
Let’s do a quick recap, shall we? Here’s what we know so far.
- Mom does everything. Always.
- All she wants is a peaceful 15 minutes to herself.
- Both children have become suddenly helpless.
- Dad has fallen off the face of the Earth, never to be seen or heard from again.
So, I call it. It’s not happening today and something terrible has happened to my husband. I step out of the shower and wrap a towel around me. No time for drying off completely, moisturizer, or getting dressed, I have to find my husband. Oh, and I find him alright. SITTING IN HIS RECLINER IN THE LIVING ROOM WITH BOTH KIDS ON THE COUCH NEXT TO HIM!!!!!!!
Yes, that’s right. They’re all in the same room. I decided to ignore them all in the most passive aggressive way I can, because I am a mature, grown adult. I make sure to sigh and huff and slam as many cupboards, drawers, and doors as I possibly can. I go back to get dressed, making sure to slam the door behind me and as soon as it shuts, the door FLYS open again. I’ll give you a hint: the Boy’s train still isn’t turned on.
From what I can only assume is the clues I have been dropping, my husband has followed our son into the bedroom to fix his train and tell him, “Hey buddy, let Mommy have some time.”
That’s what he says, “Let Mommy have some time.” Is he kidding me? He’s got to be joking, right? My shower is already ruined, the day has no chance of being a delightful one and I am ready for a fight. I can’t wait to hear his excuses why he didn’t help them. I have control of my rage, it’s right under the surface, ready to pounce. I have to ask calmly to start so I can work up into a giant explosion.
“Why didn’t you help him with his damn train before?! And have you suddenly forgotten where the water is in the house?!”
He senses something is happening. He’s a smart man and trained in conflict resolution. However, between his confusion and under-caffeinated morning brain, the best he can muster is a simple, “huh”??
There it is. The trigger the rage needs to be released. I ask him all the questions. Does he think it’s a woman’s job? Does he think I don’t deserve 15 FREAKING minutes to clean myself? Inmates have more privacy and privileges than I do. How dare he be such a shallow minded, selfish, butthead! I work just as hard as he does, and I grew those humans he decided not to help with this morning, What if he mother heard of this? I know she taught him better than this! Forget his mom, I’m going straight to the big sister. She may be 8 inches shorter but she will smack him around still! I end it with a simple question that he has no chance of responding with anything other than a complete apology and beg for my forgiveness.
“Why didn’t you help them before they came into the bathroom?”
His response, he didn’t know they needed anything because they didn’t ask.
THEY DIDN’T ASK! Of course!!!! It all makes sense now. How is he supposed to know that train isn’t working, or our fully capable daughter suddenly lost her ability to get a drink on her own. It isn’t him…. it’s them!
They’re the selfish jerks. They’re the ones that don’t think Mommy needs a break. They were sitting next to another parent IN THE SAME ROOM. He is a brilliant, extremely capable, highly functioning, intelligent, good-looking man with super human strength. He manages an entire team of highly strategic, next level thinkers. Even if he didn’t do all of that, he is perfectly capable of flipping an on/off switch or getting a glass of water!
It’s them!!!! Of course it’s them. It’s always been them.
I’ve personally witnessed it. I will make the kids their food, snacks, drinks, whatever they want and I decide, yes, I will join in the deliciousness I just prepared. Sometimes it’s a homemade pie or cookies, usually it’s more of a, “hey I unwrapped a cheese stick,” or bag of chips, whatever no judgements. It never fails. I grab my treat, sit down, wiggle into a comfy spot and then they start.
“Mom!!!! Can I have a drink?”
“Mom, can you reach that for me?”
“MOM MOM MOM MOM!!!! I can’t feel my ear and I think it fell off!”
General nonsense just pours out of their mouths. My sister says they have an internal alarm that sounds. As soon as Mom gets comfortable or tries to feel like a human, they activate their complete helplessness mode. It’s nice that she vents to me, makes me feel like it’s not just my own children that act this way.
And I should know better than to blame my sweet husband. I have seen him correct their behavior for this. Multiple times. He’s watched them ask for things and ask, “why are you asking her?! I can do it and I am IN the kitchen?! You had to walk PAST me to get to her. Come on guys.”
Sometimes, I even get to see the follow-up discussion. They all talk about how great Mommy is and how she does so much for all of us. He explains how the whole house would crumble without me and how they need to be sweet. He goes on about how much I mean to him and how we should be so grateful that our house has a mommy that does so much!
They do it. Between the lack of sleep and ability to sit down without someone needing something, they have broken me. My mind. My ability to think clearly. My logic. My common sense. My spirit, which was the first thing to go.
So we end up in the same position we have many times before, more times than should be acceptable. I’m standing in a towel, staring at my husband who just stood there and tolerated being attacked from a crazy person. He has successfully sent the kids out after turning on a train and reminding a smart, capable little girl she can, in fact, get water herself. Everything he has ever said about me comes crashing back and hits me like a truth smack across the face. I instantly get smashed with a feeling of guilt and also a little turned on. How could I ever think that he would ever think horrible things about me. Why would I ever even begin to imagine that he doesn’t think the world of me? Deserving not only a shower but his praise and gratitude that he doles out quite often. The fact that he constantly reminds me how wonderful and crucial I am, alone and in front of the kids, just proves he wants me to shower!
That leaves me with two options.
I can gravel and apologize. Beg him to forgive my big ‘ol bag of crazy and hope that he once again forgives me, like he always does. Or, I can take that mature route I always take.
Quickly flash him and run away yelling, “You picked me and you’re legally bound to me!”