I don’t say enough how much I appreciate my husband, Paul. He is seriously so great. He works hard at a job he loves, he freelances on the side, helps IMMENSELY with the boys and around the house and he is total eye candy. I’m a lucky girl.
But despite all that work he does, the hardest thing that the poor man has to deal with is, well, me.
Look, I know to all of you I seem like a real catch. And I am, trust me. I mean, at least once a week, I put on some make up. Come on.
And while there’s no doubt that my personality is as stunning as my beauty, I can be a little, um, passionate.
Crazy, if you will.
There’s no denying that Paul isn’t married to Stable Mable. But that’s ok. We have a great balance. He’s cool, calm and collected, and I’m screaming banshee who likes to freely express my emotions and thoughts to basically anyone who is listening. We are a modern day Yin and Yang.
And while I like to consider myself relatively normal for a mom of 2, sometimes I catch a glimpse of myself through his eyes, and I wonder why he stays. (He’s probably afraid of what would happen if he left, but I digress.)
Case in point: Paul just got back from his annual work conference, which takes him far far away for 5 days. Lucky guy. This was my first experience taking care of both boys 24/7, and while I wasn’t nervous, I was a little anxious about some of the juggling. I am fully aware of how much I lean on Paul. He walks in the door at 5:30 every night, not knowing what kind of disaster he’s walking into, and I typically throw a kid, a cat or some food at him before he gets his key in the door. He puts Declan down, cleans up the kitchen, often bathes both boys and does anything else to help out. So I knew nighttime was going to be a struggle for me.
Luckily, other than a couple sleepless nights from Simon thanks to teething (great timing, teeth), things went ok. I was only homicidal/suicidal for part of the week, and I don’t think any permanent damage was done to anybody (thanks to my Mom for rescuing me when things were bleak). Paul came home, and everything is just peachy.
Except me, who is a lunatic.
Paul told me numerous times that he wanted me to have as much free time this weekend as I wanted. He offered to watch the boys so I could go to the gym, go shop, veg out, etc. So on Saturday, I try to do that. Why do I say “try” to do that? Because, again, I’m a lunatic.
As a mom, I find that one of the hardest adjustments has been getting things done when working around EVERYONE else’s schedule. It’s maddening. If I want to go to the gym, I have to base it around the gym’s schedule, Simon’s nap times and the time it takes to get all 3 of us ready. Which is why there’s about a 15 minute window daily that I can get there. Same with just about any planned activity. So when I get the chance to just be free, I relish it.
Except I don’t. Instead, I tell Paul that I’m leaving him in charge of the boys, and then I override his every decision. So here I am, on Saturday, with a helpful husband and nothing scheduled to do, and I’m yelling at him because “I need to know if you are taking the boys out. If not, I’ll do it. But Simon needs to go down soon. And Declan needs to eat. So I’ll take them, but later. Or you can, whatever…” and on and on. Paul has no clue what to do. Do I want to schedule out the day or do I want to leave it to him? And if I leave it to him, why am I butting in? How can he take over if I won’t let him?
By the end of the discussion, I had NO CLUE what I was talking about. And he was trying to do the right thing but had no clue what that was. Finally, I realized that while I want him to take the reins, it’s hard for me to give up control of them, so I end up being dissatisfied with everything. Fun. Why he didn’t tell me to shove it, I’ll never know. It has to be tough never knowing which side of Sybil he is dealing with, but I am forever grateful that he tries.