Sometimes, in a marriage, everything you do as a couple clicks. Sometimes it doesn’t. I don’t know what the hell’s going on with my husband these days. He’s usually an attentive, compassionate guy and when I have a goal for the family, he supports me, but not lately.
He was out of town for three days this week, and usually I miss him, but this time I was glad he was going. He’s been working on de-cluttering the house for more than a month now – we’re drowning in toys and kids’ old clothes, yet every single weekend, he asks me what, exactly, he should get rid of. I told him what to trash at the beginning. I was specific. And the next week when he asked, I told him again. And the next week, again. And I’ve been as clear as I possibly can, but every weekend, the question comes up again. And every weekend I say the same thing. And, adding to the strife, the project keeps us physically apart, because, as any parent knows, it’s impossible to throw stuff away with kids around. We could be trashing concrete blocks and the kids would say, “Noo, I want to play with those!” So I take the kids out of the house and he stays at home and works on the project. read more
My husband thinks he’s cornered the market on stress. Okay, he’s got a very demanding job; he works a lot of hours, he’s on call 24/7 and he does carry a lot of stress on his shoulders. But the other day I mentioned that I had more stress than usual and you’d have thought I’d said I got abducted by aliens.
“Stress?” he said. “What are YOU stressed about?” Seriously, that’s the way he said it.
I don’t know how two people who live in the same house, eat dinner together and sleep in the same bed can be so far apart in their understanding. I began to explain. read more
I’ve been nagging my husband about his temper since we had kids. Come to think of it, he really didn’t lose his temper until we had kids. Hmm. He yells at them, then I get on him for yelling, and he tells me that they gave him an excuse to yell. We’ve been doing this dance for some time now, and I could never convince him that his anger had a price. Until now.
We were leaving Target, and my two-and-a-half-year-old son had followed my daughter and me into the ladies’ room. When we came out, he headed to our special two-seater cart and tried to climb onto it. Not wanting to take the cart to the car, my husband grabbed the bags out of it and said, “You grab him.” I did, he held fast to the cart and he started to cry. Wail. Scream. I held him across my body like a sash while he kicked and screamed, all the way to the parking garage. read more
Hereditary Insanity is three years old! My actual insanity is much older, but I’m talking about the blog here. So I think it’s a good time to look back and see what we’ve learned. Yes, it’s kind of a gimme for me, but I don’t have another topic and I could use the break. If you’re new to Hereditary Insanity, this “What I did over the year” roundup will be a handy guide to relevant posts. Some new developments: Hereditary Insanity is available as a Kindle subscription and has been accepted by Top Mommy Blogs. Please take a moment to vote so it can stay a top mommy blog. I would really appreciate it. I am also considering sending a post to Huffington Post Parents. Please let me know in the comments which one you think should I send.
I learned that I am passing my fears onto my children, and that’s not necessarily a good idea. (Some of all Fears)
I learned that I couldn’t blame all of my three-year-old daughter’s bad behavior on her age. I had to accept some responsibility for my actions. (Is it three or is it me?) read more
I caught a glimpse of the man I married this week. My husband came home to a toddler tantrum – I had my son freaking out in my arms – and he said, in a positive tone, “What’s wrong, buddy?” My toddler told him. I told him. He took the toddler from my arms and proceeded to work out a solution, all without any evidence of a scowl. It’s a phenomenon I like to call “Happy Matt.”
“Happy Matt” used to be my husband’s only persona. When I met him, his job wasn’t too demanding; we were childless so we had the freedom to do what we wanted; and we were childless – did I mention that? When he met me for dates, he was happy. When we talked on the phone, he was happy. The only time he wasn’t happy when we were dating was when he called me at 3 a.m, frantic because his apartment was on fire. (I didn’t even hear the phone ring.) Soon after, he moved out of that apartment and into mine, and he was happy.