Careless

I told my husband about how Jay’s carelessness is driving me crazy, and he admitted that he was getting really annoyed at it as well. A couple days ago he had asked Jay to mow the lawn, and he did such a haphazard job that my husband had to go back and redo part of it, and my husband is not a lawn-care perfectionist by a long shot. So, after I complained, my husband decided to talk to Jay about how he needed to improve, and he responded with “doing chores doesn’t matter as much as what I’m thinking about.”

If this were a job, I would be begging for Jay to be fired. He’s just not performing up to acceptable standards, and his attitude is dismissive about it.

I feel bad about the whole situation. My husband wanted to do his friend a favor, but having him here has not been going very well at all. It’s too stressful for me. I hardly eat anymore, and now I’m really struggling to sleep. I don’t want to up and throw him out, but I don’t want him staying here. Jay was supposed to help out with chores and renovations, and instead he spends all day reading and talking on the phone.

I guess it’s up to my husband to deal with. I don’t know what my husband agreed on with Jay, but my understanding was that it would be a short-term thing until Jay found a job, two or three months at the very most. I’m terrified that this will last longer than that.

Maybe I can persuade Jay to leave by preaching about God all the time.

Sloppy

Having someone else using my kitchen is really setting me off. I keep telling myself to chill out, but then I find grease splattered all over the stove and dried up raw chicken all over my wooden cutting board, and I just want to start screaming. Gross! Gross! Gross!

This whole “helping out” thing isn’t really helping out. It’s stressing me out. The worst part is that I think I should be grateful and not nitpick, but no matter how hard I try to relax and let go, it still gets to me. They’re just too sloppy about everything. They’re creating more work than I can keep up with, and it’s making me feel like a failure.

Picky

I finally got some proper sleep, after spending three nights in a row tossing and turning with unbearable insomnia. At the worst, I got somewhere between 3 and 4 hours before waking up and not being able to fall back asleep again. Compared to yesterday, I think that today will be much better.

I’ve decided that I want to give my husband a wardrobe makeover. Probably more for me than for him. He’s very picky about what he’ll wear, so this isn’t going to be an easy task, but I need to feel like I’m actually taking care of him. Yes, I know that men are capable of dressing themselves, but that’s not going to stop my nurturing instincts. He’s been wearing the same clothes for years because he’s too picky to buy anything else for himself, and I’m tired of the monotony and holes.

I need to feel like we haven’t stagnated in the past. The past sucked.

He’s so picky, I’m prepared to rebel and buy what I like without him, then do what I have to, to cajole him into wearing it.

Sharing

Yesterday, as our little family ate burgers and ice cream for lunch, the baby happily dipped french fries and shared them with both my husband and me, and it struck me that she was quickly learning to share the way that our oldest had. I commented to my husband that the toddler had never gone through a selfish phase, that she’s unusually generous for a three-year-old, and that our baby was following the same path. He replied that they are learning it from me.

When I eat a bowl of cereal, two-thirds of the spoonfuls make their way to other mouths. Candy, ice cream, and desserts, all get divvied up between the children and me. When sticky suckers are offered to me, I take a lick and say “thank you.” Sometimes my girls seem to delight more in feeding us adults than in eating themselves.

I don’t feel like I’m doing anything special. I’m treating my daughters like people, with wants and needs that deserve to be considered. If I asked someone to share with me and they flatly refused for no reason, my feelings would be hurt. I like it when people appreciate the gifts I offer them. I treat my babies with the same courtesy.

And every day it amazes me how generous and considerate they are of others at such young ages. “Mine” is a rare word in our household.

Meltdown

I had a rather epic meltdown because my good mop had been left out in the rain for three days, and I was terrified that asking for my things to be put away after they’re used would make everyone think of me as a controlling harpy. So, after discussing it with my husband, I have come to the conclusion that I need to get the internet out of my head, because I’m obviously not responding appropriately to all of the crap out there.

From now on, the internet is for journaling, Mormon Messages, and crochet patterns!

Jay made dinner for us last night, to help me out. My husband told him that I have “ups and downs,” but left out the part about the “severe anxiety disorder.” I’ve been wondering ever since we decided to have him stay with us how much of my mental health stuff I wanted to come clean about. Probably not much.

I’m making yet another push to pull myself back together, through cleaning and baking.