Oct 11, 2013

Rough Patch

And I'm not talking about my heels.
Gross out.

No, I'm talking about how Bayou and I are running circles through a seemingly never ending cycle of who can out-degrade the other one.
Like, I might stab him in his sleep and maybe laugh about it.
Just kidding. Not really.

What I DO think I need is to use this blog as a platform to vent a tad and then start taking some hot yoga or MMA streetfighter-type boxing so that I don't pull a Chris Brown on my husband.

See, we get into these fun little cycles of not really appreciating each other.

Do you ever have these "times" in your marriage? Where shit just isn't meshing well?
When he puts more emphasis on his "fun" life without me, or puts me second, or doesn't dedicate himself more evenly between home and fun times, or doesn't include me in the fun, it hurts.
And I think I am trying to convey the message to him that it does hurt me.
But he blows it off as I am being too emotional, and that hurts even more, so I get angry and start yelling.
When really it's kind of like my way of begging for a tad more attention as his wife, his fun partner, his friend.

I feel like he starts this drama but won't fess up to it.

What he WILL do though is call me psychotic and controlling and then I feel like I have to show him what a REAL psycho I can be and he will have wished he never called me that.

This has kind of been brewing for a couple weeks and I just know we need to communicate more. Trust me, we have been down this path at least a million times.
But right now it just seems easier, obviously, to dismiss each others feelings because they are stupid.
So here we are at this weird stand still.

I have the crazies, apparently, and Bayou is Italian, so you can imagine how heated these arguments get.

Luckily, we still have our first home unoccupied and a guest room in the new place so Bayou gets to choose where he sleeps every night.
I'm nice like that.

Don't judge. Or do. I really don't give a shit.

Our most recent spat was last night.
He found out about some "awesome" car auction was going on right down the road from his work.
He found out yesterday afternoon, maybe around 3pm.

I assume his brain did the following:
Oh, better call the ole' ball and chain so she can ruin my night with questions.

He phones me, at work, while I am wrapping up the last twenty minutes of my day and am heading home. Now, forget the fact that he is literally already on his way to this place, or maybe he is already there, so it's not like we can have a game plan in advance, it's more fly by the seat of his pants, which makes me nervous.
And he knows this.
I have two questions I am trying to communicate with him, but he is too excited and blows me off a few times as I attempt to gain some insight into his evening.

1) Were you able to stop by the house to let the dogs outside?


2) When, about, do you think you will be home?

When I'm home.

Oh Hell to the no.

I have major issues with these responses. I can feel my blood pressure rising.
See, because we both work, we kind of divvy up the housework and taking care of our three pets as best we can based on our individual schedules. We try to even it out as much as possible so neither of us is overwhelmed.

A) Bayou gets home a few hours before me, so our dogs are only home without pee relief for 8 hours.
Still a long time, but it's doable.
If I have to get home first, then it's a full twelve hours!
That's too long.
In my opinion, and perhaps I am wrong or "too controlling" or "too logical", but I think it's fair to suggest if he can't fulfill his responsibility of a simple task such as letting them out at his normal time each day, then he should be the one to get coverage from a family member, friend, or neighbor.
(They all live within ten minutes of our house. And yes, it's not ideal, but neither is just deciding last minute to do something that is fun for you but maybe a bit selfish and is burdening others.)
But what ends up happening is he either doesn't tell me, and there will be an accident on the floor when I get home, or I have to be the one to find out he won't be home because I will call him on a whim, and then I scramble to get coverage.

Which is just awesome.

And B) the whole "I'll be home when I am home" statement is simply not acceptable.
You are married.
You have a responsibility to me and this family to give me a time frame.
Should I expect you for dinner? Will you be home before I go to bed?

This isn't some bar hopping Saturday night free for all that doesn't have a set time frame and you can do what you please.
This is an auto show.
On a Thursday.
I need more information.

I mean, am I wrong?  AM I being too controlling? 
I try as much as possible to give him his space, let him "be free."
I really do.
He is much more of a free spirit than I am.
I like schedules and routine and planning. Most women, I think, do.
He throws that off for me.
I am asking for him to meet me halfway so I don't have a rage stroke.

I don't think these two questions are ridiculous or overkill.
Go have your fun, just keep me in the loop and try to have a game plan, even if it's late.
I swear I won't care if you work with me.

So needless to say I got zero responses and a drunk husband to deal with.
I ruined his fun.
I am an awful person.

This morning, I noticed he had snuck in and slept in the guest bedroom and was in the shower by the time I came down the stairs.
I was being a psycho with too many regulations and he can't live like that, he so eloquently put it.

So as he neglected to do his share of the responsibilities this morning, and instead peeled out of the driveway, nearly taking out the gate, I proceeded to take out the dogs, twice, and the garbage, and feed all the animals, and make coffee, and get ready, and make my train, in 30 minutes.
Because I can't get any damn help.

Marriage is so much fun sometimes!

Psyhotic TBag. out