or,...When Your Partner is a Poopyhead.
Some days, I just can't get much done. Other days, despite what I see as my limitations, it seems like the sky is the limit. I can get more done than I did the previous week! And on those days, I'm proud of myself. When my hubby comes home, I want to yell, "LOOK! Look what I did! I did that! And that! And that! Isn't that awesome?!"
But I don't. And so many times, the poor guy comes home and gets it all wrong. On days I don't get much done, I do dishes. That's about it. I try to have the dishes done and dinner cooking. This, apparently, is enough for him to determine that I had, indeed, a productive day. On the other hand, when I get a lot of shit done, I don't have time or energy for dishes. Are you out of your mind? I painted the stairs, helped kids with schoolwork (okay, cajoled them into doing schoolwork), did two loads of laundry, changed that cat litter and ran people all over creation to various activities. Dishes? He comes home, and there are dishes in the sink. Crap spread all over the living room. And, I'm tired. Suddenly, he becomes a Poopyhead.
Don't get me wrong, I feel bad for the guy. He works hard, and comes home to a house that looks like,... like,... well, like people have been doing stuff and didn't pick up after themselves. And sometimes that's all it really is. Other times, projects are going on that necessitate the mess. It's messessary. The problem is that it is MY problem. Not OUR problem, not the kids' problem, but MINE. And I can only do so much, as we've previously determined.
What I need, and what we need, being in similar boats, is a partner who is willing to take on part of the "pick up your shit" part of the parenting. Not the angry, last-straw sort of deal, but the 'okay, it's really time to do this' sort of thing. The idea is to get to the point where these kids take care of their own shit at some point. We're not there yet, but we're trying for it. I doubt we'll get there, but at least there is the credit for trying, right?
Is your partner supportive? Combative? A poopyhead? All those things? We all have bad days, even hubbies. Let's try to celebrate those days where the world is beautiful, and let the rest go. Why is it so hard to let go?
