If my last entry made me seem like I’m a nice wife, I’m here today to admit that it’s not totally true. I do try to make it a point to remember and focus on the things my husband does for me, but I also fall into the trap of criticizing and judging pretty regularly. For example, my husband said that he likes going over to his mom’s house because it feels homey and Christmassy. When I asked him what it would take for our house to feel that way, he said he doesn’t think our house can feel that way. He hates it here. Its not big enough. Blah, blah, blah… and it really gets on my nerves. The word that comes to mind is “entitled,” because we couldn’t have even GOTTEN this place without my parents, and we won’t get the next one without them either. So for him to act like he’s “too good” for this place? It drives me fucking nuts.
A part of me wishes that taking care of me and my daughter for a few weeks wasn’t so hard for him. I wish he had more energy. I wish he had a stronger work ethic. I wish he got a thrill out of challenging himself—pushing himself to his limit. That’s just not who he is.
It’s bitter-sweet. I told a friend the other day that I cannot imagine being with someone who emotionally triggers me. Sometimes my husband says things that are rude. Like, I pointed out that when I’m not pregnant, I thrive on productivity. He said something about how he doesn’t remember me ever being much different than I am now. When he says shit like that, it doesn’t phase me. I can easily dismiss it as nonsense, because it’s just so fucking ridiculous. If I dated someone who was a go-getter, and they said anything to suggest that I wasn’t doing enough, I think it would hit much harder. When certain people say shit, it debilitates me. So I guess that’s the silver lining of dating someone who is okay with a mundane lifestyle: he doesn’t make me feel bad about myself.
See? I can be a bitch.
None of this negates what I wrote in my last entry, though. I do love my husband. I do believe he is a really, really good man. I think he’s a great father and an excellent husband. He’s extremely emotionally supportive. He’s just not a go-getter, and sometimes, particularly when I’m feeling compromised, it irks me.
On a related topic, I informed my husband that he would need to assemble a couple of items for our daughter on Christmas Eve. He tried to suggest that we just leave the items in the boxes (it’s her kitchenette and her wardrobe). I’m like, REALLY, DUDE? It’s fucking Christmas. We are absolutely not leaving her gifts in the boxes. Geesh.
I obviously vetoed that idea.
I don’t know what his deal is. He says it doesn’t feel like Christmas, but to me, Christmas is something that needs to be made. I tried to explain to him that this is exciting. This will be our first of likely fifteen Christmas Eve’s staying up late putting together toys for our kids. It’s going to be a tradition.
I told him how I imagine Christmas Day going. Our daughter will walk out and see the display, and she’ll run over and start playing with it right away. She’ll know it’s for her. And then we’ll take down our stockings and go through them. We’ll lounge around in our PJ’s and eat breakfast until 9:45am when we jump on a Zoom call with my parents, my brother and his family, and my sister and her family. Then we’ll open up a TON of presents and watch them open up theirs. After that, we’ll head over to my in-laws house, open up more gifts, and indulge in more food. And from there we’ll make a short drive over to our last stop where we’ll visit with my husband’s mother’s side of the family (risking people’s lives… but let’s not get into that). We’ll relax. We’ll talk. We’ll eat.
It’s going to be a nice, very Christmassy day.
I just wish he’d stop being such a damn Grinch.
Last updated December 22, 2020