MIL and FIL have Birthdays close together. We're going to brunch on Sunday to celebrate. Question comes up on email to me and H from SIL, "Do you think we can bring a Birthday cake to the restaurant? If so, I can pick one up and bring it."
H calls me, "Do you think the restaurant will mind?"
Me: "I have no idea. We'll have to call the restaurant and ask." (Rant #1: Why is he calling me? Do I have a wizard hat? Call the damn restaurant. You have the number. Or just tell me to call the restaurant if you don't have time.) "Why don't I call and get right back to you?"
H: "Well, I don't want to impose too much. We're already bringing a baby..."
Me: "H, Why are you overthinking the idea? We're bringing money to them in this economy. They have highchairs. They're going to have to deal with us." (Rant #2: Please oh please stop being such a Nice Guy. He's being overconsiderate, in my opinion. God forbid our family is allowed to CELEBRATE and take up any space in the world.)
H: "I'm not overthinking the idea. I'm thinking the idea."
Me, nicey-nice, pushing my annoyed feeling behind: "OK. If they do allow cakes from the outside, we should bring it. Your sister shouldn't have to travel on the train with it."
H: "I agree. We should transport it."
Me: "OK. I'm going to call and find out if they have a cake policy. I'll call you right back."
I call. No problem, bring a cake!
Me: "No problem at all. We can bring a cake. I'll order it."
H: "Thanks!"
I'm CRABBY. So CRABBY. My son is whiny and I desperately need a break. My head feels foggy. I have no energy for some reason. Nowhere near my period, but I feel hormonal.
So, I'm reading into this little thing (H's cake query and nervousness about imposing a restaurant with a baby and cake) as a sign that he isn't ready to man up. I wish he would just stand tall and take what he wants for himself and for his family. Does he not see how he hides himself (and consequently me and the baby) in a corner? NOBODY PUTS BABY IN A CORNER!
My son is disciplined and well mannered for a toddler. He sits like a little gentleman (most of the time), and we just take him outside if he has a meltdown. We're considerate baby people.
MY THOUGHTS ARE SO STUPID I CAN'T BELIEVE I'M EVEN WRITING THEM. I'm reacting to a simple cake question, connecting everything to "he's not a MAN."
I sat here for a while trying to Eckhart Tolle my way out of my annoyance. Recognize the feeling, take hold of it, create space between the feeling and myself...
Then I decided to be lazy and just barf it up on the board, figuring I'll either get validation or advice or both, or I'd just release it to the universe and get over it.
I'm in such a funk. Why am I losing patience?
And I'm ALONE all the time. ALONE ALONE ALONE. I'm not just ALONE, I'm terribly LONELY. This is the only place I can spill everything, because God knows I can't drag my friends and family through it anymore--my insatiable sadness. I'm so sick of it. I joined a moms group, which is nice and all but it's just more "surface" nicey nice. I run errands and hang out at B&N, but I have limits with what little money we have. I freelance from home, so I stare at the computer all day.
It's time the baby and I got out of the house more. The moms group was an idea to fix that, but it's just once or twice a week and it doesn't give me any kind of break.
My ILs are really nice, nice people. But they are old now and live an hour away, and they really don't want to babysit and change diapers. They like to come and visit and bounce him on their knees only when I'm hear to wipe the poo. (MIL said early on, "We've done our time." That didn't feel very good to hear, but it is where they stand and I have to respect it.)
Stillhope: I think you planted KOOKOO in my head, or maybe you sensed I was on the road to KOOKOO, and I have an uneasy feeling that I'm getting there.
I'm in a big "What about me" state of mind. I know it NEVER HELPS a situation.
I'm having trouble seeing any kind of end to this reality in sight. H works a ton and is never home. Weekends he is exhausted. But he tries and tries and tries to be everything. He can't possibly do it all and become a man. How are we supposed to work on our sexless marriage when he's never here?
In the past, when I've expressed that I wish H was home more, at least once or twice a week, he said, "You know what this business is. You know that it's all I can do to make this kind of money. We need that money to pay for our house. It is what it is." Translation to a desperate housewife: I'm SOL and he's off the hook of having to make swift changes.
I feel like poo. About my pity party AND about my situation.
