Crabby
I've been feeling a little . . . unappreciated lately. It's a common refrain heard from moms and wives since Biblical times, I'm sure. Normally I just suck it up and go on with life, but every so often I feel the need to hit the brakes and pout about it a bit. I've been threatening to "go out for cigarettes and never come back," but this threat has been rendered largely ineffective, mostly by the fact that I do not smoke.
No one seems to notice that clean underwear automatically appears in their dresser drawer. Or that clean sheets magically land on their beds twice a month. Or that nutritious meals appear on the table regularly.
Apparently, I am the only member of our household capable of:
I know it's really my own choice that I like to keep the house neat. It would just be nice to hear an occasional, "Hey, thanks." When I was growing up, it didn't matter if my mom handed my stad a pickle sandwich. He would say, "Aw, thank you, honey. That was the best pickle sandwich I ever had."
I was feeling a little frustrated the other day when the note below was slid under the bathroom door while I was in the shower. I have to confess that while it would be nice to be both loved and appreciated, one out of two ain't bad.
No one seems to notice that clean underwear automatically appears in their dresser drawer. Or that clean sheets magically land on their beds twice a month. Or that nutritious meals appear on the table regularly.
Apparently, I am the only member of our household capable of:
- Emptying a backpack (and dealing with the contents thereof, such as school papers, wet snow gear, and stowaway Zhu Zhu Pets).
- Cleaning the litterbox. Cleaning anything, for that matter.
- Buying groceries.
- Letting the dogs out. Letting the dogs in. Feeding said dogs.
- Keeping track of the school schedule, which includes late starts, early dismissals, and "closed just for the hell of it" dates.
- Driving short people to gymnastics class.
- Keeping track of every birthday in our extended family and buying gifts for those occasions.
- Packing lunches.
I know it's really my own choice that I like to keep the house neat. It would just be nice to hear an occasional, "Hey, thanks." When I was growing up, it didn't matter if my mom handed my stad a pickle sandwich. He would say, "Aw, thank you, honey. That was the best pickle sandwich I ever had."
I was feeling a little frustrated the other day when the note below was slid under the bathroom door while I was in the shower. I have to confess that while it would be nice to be both loved and appreciated, one out of two ain't bad.
Comments
Bottom line is when I get in a funk like this I realize that its due to the fact that we've got 6 foot snowbanks here, and I remember to look at all of the things I DO have and how much worse I could have it...
And then I think 3 more months and I can get a lawn chair and a drink and not care anymore!!
I hear you on the last one. In 12 years I think my other half has done the litter box less than ten times. And I'm being very generous. I don't know why it's become my job but I will say it's probably the only one I really resent having to do myself. I think my family will only "get it" when they realize I'm dead serious on not getting another pet. I won't even discuss it.
But on the plus side since I've gotten pg DH does do the litter box pretty regularly with only minor nagging required.