I started out this morning angry at my husband. No, not angry. Frustrated. Exasperated? Something not good, and it's been ruining my whole day.
The reason for my frustration? Last night, Nelson picked up the living room (yeah!) and proceeded to put the day's sippy cups and afternoon snack bowls on the counter over top of the dishwasher. Instead of just PUTTING THEM IN THE DISHWASHER. WHO DOES HE THINK IS GOING TO PUT THEM IN THE DISHWASHER? ME! AM I THE ONLY PERSON IN MY HOME CAPABLE OF OPERATING THE DISHWASHER? HE CANNOT OPEN THE DISHWASHER? HE CAN GET THE CUPS ALL THE WAY TO THE DISHWASHER BUT IS UNABLE TO FLIP IT OPEN AND PLACE SOME CUPS IN THE TOP RACK? So, before I went up to bed to read, I calmly asked him to please put the cups in the dishwasher and then run the dishwasher.
When I got up (first, of course) this morning and came downstairs, the cups were still sitting on the kitchen counter FOR THE LOVE OF GOD AND ALL THINGS HOLY IS IT REALLY THAT DIFFICULT? So, I took a deep breath, loaded them up, ran the dishwasher, and proceeded about my morning because, really, it is not that difficult to load a few things in the dishwasher. For me. So I just did it and stewed about it because I guess I should have just done it in the first place and not expected him to show me the courtesy of doing a menial chore like moving cups four inches in to the dishwasher when that is MY WORK and then I put on my crown of thorns and bled and bled and bled.
So, Nelson gets up and I try to put on my best non-martyr face and see him off to work and I carefully do not mention the cups and am nice and loving and trying to move on. And after he leaves I go into the kitchen to refill my coffee and I trip on the trashcan, which belongs under the sink but, Nelson leaves it in the middle of our very tiny kitchen so he does not forget to take the trash out in the mornings. He rarely puts the trashcan back BECAUSE THAT IS WHAT I DO and, you know, the sink is like four feet from the middle of the kitchen and way too far to walk, and wait, why is this empty trash can so heavy?
That would be because it was NOT EMPTY AT ALL. It was completely and totally full. And so I called Nelson to bitch at him for not taking out the trash, which he regularly forgets to do, and he forgets so often that I think I can put the word "forget" in quotes here if you know what I mean. I threw in some bitching about the dishwasher while I was at it and then some more bitching about some trip he was supposed to have told me about last night and forgot to tell me about and he doesn't even know WHEN this trip is only that is it out of country and some time "next month" and then I just hauled out my cross and carried it on my back for miles and miles and miles.
And then I did some online browsing and filled my cart at Old Navy and bagged up the trash and put it on the porch to take to the trashcan when I took Oscar to school. And then I proceeded to be snappish and short with my children all morning and incite bad tempers in both boys. And Oscar cried at preschool drop off and I came home and put Benji down for his nap and baked a chocolate cake and started to feel really silly about my terrible behavior towards my husband and kind of exhausted from all my crankiness and feeling sorry for myself and damn, that cross is heavy, you know?
I sent him a text not long ago apologizing and promising not to bitch about the trash or dishwasher anymore. I remind myself of sleep-in Sundays and of battles better fought by not fighting. I remind myself that I love my husband and hate fighting with him and that when I argue with him no one wins, not me, not him, not our kids. I remind myself that I don't have to wait until tomorrow to start fresh. I can start fresh right now.
Deep breaths. Deep breaths.