I just read this article about how
Sarah Jessica thinks her marriage works because she mommy's Matthew.
Now at first I passed it off as insane. I kept thinking, good luck to her, cause her son will be the same.
But now that I think about it, I do the same for Hubby. I guess it can be thought of as enabling but my stress level is reduced considerably when I do
certain things for him. I put his wallet by his cell phone. I place his cell phone in his charger. I put his keys by the door. I put the orange juice away
after he's left it out on the table.
I guess it's not only part enabling but also part lowering expectations.
Instead of expecting him to clean the entire house, I'm happy with him doing his laundry and taking the trash out. (Note: The trash we mention is the kitchen
trash. It does not include the trash in the bathroom, bedroom or living room. Nor does it include the recyclables. Every morning, I rush to empty the
bathroom, bedroom and living room trash into the kitchen trash so he can take it out.)
Now, it's not that I think my hubby is inept. I'm sure when the trash becomes infested with creatures, my husband would decide it should be taken out. It's
more a matter of threshold. My threshold for things is much lower than my darling hubby.
Dishes are meant to reside in the sink, he once said. "Why else would I have installed the deep sink for you?"
As Wanda Sykes once said, "A man will use all his dishes and utensils and eat out of a napkin and a toothpick before doing dishes passes through his head."
It's not that we want to mommy our men. It's that our tolerance levels are significantly lower than men. And when our tolerance level is hit, it's not long
before we 1) let it fester in our head to explode later (and probably during an inappropriate time) or 2) we explode right then and there. Either case, our
husbands and significant others are left dumbstruck at why we are crying because the orange juice was left out on the table.
Now of course, this does lead to the occasional calls at work.
"Honey, have you seen my car keys?"
"Baby, where are my metrocards?"
Oh and my all time favorite:
"Honey, I know you are at the gynecologist but I need an extension cord.
Where is the box of extension cords?"
Now, I was in the midst of my visit during this phone call. New doctor. New nurse who mind you was holding back her laughter, quite terribly I might add.
New stirrups and a new ringtone (which happened to be the theme from Fawlty Towers). I have since switched to a more traditional ring.
But I am willing to deal with these occasional calls if that means less fights and more together time with my hubby. And he has been more thoughtful
lately. This morning, I saw that he did start the dishwasher for me. Sure I had to fill it and yes, it was supposed to be started last night but I now have
clean dishes for dinner tonight.
