Psycho Much?
I'm an asshole.
I barely remember most of last night, because I spent the majority of it in a blind rage that was neither justified nor sensible--it just was.
The set-up: I had planned to make lasagna for dinner last night. Ben got home around 3:30, and during an IM conversation around 4, I asked him to chop an onion for said lasagna. Then I told him I'd leave him alone so he could take a nap.
For some reason, when Bob and I walked in the house at 5:25, and the house was pitch dark, and Ben was asleep on the sofa, and no onions were chopped, I lost my mind. I was pissed because I felt totally put-upon--work all day, pick up child from school, then come home and immediately start cooking dinner. The prospect exhausted me. Not to mention we wouldn't be eating until damn near 7pm. And my husband was asleep on the couch.
Yeah, I know. I don't get it now, either. All I know is I was hella-pissed. Ben didn't get it either, which pissed me off even more ("how can he not understand why I'm pissed?"). Then he gave me his best "whatever" and stormed off. Which pissed me off even more. At that point I decided I wasn't going to spend an hour making dinner that would be ruined by collective anger, so I stomped into the living room and took my place on the sofa and ignored him. Because I'm just that adult. About a half hour later, I asked if anyone wanted Wendy's for dinner.
For a few minutes, it looked as though peace and harmony were going to be restored at the hands of a couple of double jalapeno melts, but then he again expressed his inability to understand why I was angry, and then I was pissed again. We spent the rest of the evening in silence. Until after Bob went to bed, when I apologized. But I think he's still pissed at me. Not that he'll admit it.
In retrospect, I don't think I was pissed at him at all. I think I'm pissed at myself. For having a child and eliminating any and all "free time" for the next 13 years of my life. For feeling guilty about asking Ben to do anything Bob-related because I feel like it's Not His Job and I'm putting upon him when I ask him to take Bob to school or pick Bob up from school or make Bob's lunch or get Bob ready for bed. For painting myself into a corner, career-wise.
I live in daily fear that I'm single-handedly destroying my marriage because I can't seem to hold it together anymore. At least, not as well as I can appear to be.
And then there's Bob. He's been talking an awful lot about dear ol' dad lately. Last night while he was in the tub, he started telling me about a camping trip he went on with db. I feigned interest and kept him going. (He opens up to me so rarely that I jump on it whenever he does.) Then he got quiet and said "my daddy doesn't like Ben, and that makes me sad, because I love Ben."
Insert knife...twist.
"And he calls Ben a 'putz,' and that's not very nice, and I don't like it when he calls Ben that."
"You know, it's okay. What matters is that you know how you feel and that it's okay to feel that way." Blah blah blah. More meaningless psychobabble. But this time, it satisfied him.
When he told Ben good night, I heard him say "my daddy says you're a putz. Sorry." Then he came running back to his bedroom. I told him Ben and I really don't care if his dad says mean things about us. "Yeah, 'cause he says mean things all the time." In that "yeah, you know what he's like, sheesh" sort of tone.
Could the boy be figuring out on his own--already--that his "father" is a negative prick?
Speaking of the prick, I had to go back to court this morning to renew the restraining order. Assface hasn't been served yet, so we had to continue it for another 2 weeks. Of course he hasn't been served, he's been hiding out across the state line with Meal Ticket.
I'm exhausted and I have a headache. And it's not even 1:00pm.
I'm going to go hide in the corner and cry now.
I barely remember most of last night, because I spent the majority of it in a blind rage that was neither justified nor sensible--it just was.
The set-up: I had planned to make lasagna for dinner last night. Ben got home around 3:30, and during an IM conversation around 4, I asked him to chop an onion for said lasagna. Then I told him I'd leave him alone so he could take a nap.
For some reason, when Bob and I walked in the house at 5:25, and the house was pitch dark, and Ben was asleep on the sofa, and no onions were chopped, I lost my mind. I was pissed because I felt totally put-upon--work all day, pick up child from school, then come home and immediately start cooking dinner. The prospect exhausted me. Not to mention we wouldn't be eating until damn near 7pm. And my husband was asleep on the couch.
Yeah, I know. I don't get it now, either. All I know is I was hella-pissed. Ben didn't get it either, which pissed me off even more ("how can he not understand why I'm pissed?"). Then he gave me his best "whatever" and stormed off. Which pissed me off even more. At that point I decided I wasn't going to spend an hour making dinner that would be ruined by collective anger, so I stomped into the living room and took my place on the sofa and ignored him. Because I'm just that adult. About a half hour later, I asked if anyone wanted Wendy's for dinner.
For a few minutes, it looked as though peace and harmony were going to be restored at the hands of a couple of double jalapeno melts, but then he again expressed his inability to understand why I was angry, and then I was pissed again. We spent the rest of the evening in silence. Until after Bob went to bed, when I apologized. But I think he's still pissed at me. Not that he'll admit it.
In retrospect, I don't think I was pissed at him at all. I think I'm pissed at myself. For having a child and eliminating any and all "free time" for the next 13 years of my life. For feeling guilty about asking Ben to do anything Bob-related because I feel like it's Not His Job and I'm putting upon him when I ask him to take Bob to school or pick Bob up from school or make Bob's lunch or get Bob ready for bed. For painting myself into a corner, career-wise.
I live in daily fear that I'm single-handedly destroying my marriage because I can't seem to hold it together anymore. At least, not as well as I can appear to be.
And then there's Bob. He's been talking an awful lot about dear ol' dad lately. Last night while he was in the tub, he started telling me about a camping trip he went on with db. I feigned interest and kept him going. (He opens up to me so rarely that I jump on it whenever he does.) Then he got quiet and said "my daddy doesn't like Ben, and that makes me sad, because I love Ben."
Insert knife...twist.
"And he calls Ben a 'putz,' and that's not very nice, and I don't like it when he calls Ben that."
"You know, it's okay. What matters is that you know how you feel and that it's okay to feel that way." Blah blah blah. More meaningless psychobabble. But this time, it satisfied him.
When he told Ben good night, I heard him say "my daddy says you're a putz. Sorry." Then he came running back to his bedroom. I told him Ben and I really don't care if his dad says mean things about us. "Yeah, 'cause he says mean things all the time." In that "yeah, you know what he's like, sheesh" sort of tone.
Could the boy be figuring out on his own--already--that his "father" is a negative prick?
Speaking of the prick, I had to go back to court this morning to renew the restraining order. Assface hasn't been served yet, so we had to continue it for another 2 weeks. Of course he hasn't been served, he's been hiding out across the state line with Meal Ticket.
I'm exhausted and I have a headache. And it's not even 1:00pm.
I'm going to go hide in the corner and cry now.
posted by Mitzi Green at 12:25 PM
3 Comments:
guess what? in mo, they make you take a similar class if you're involved in a custody case and you've never been married to the other parent. it's called "Parenting Together, Living Apart." and it's a huge crock of shit. db's gone to the class--twice. like i told the instructors when i took it, it's only effective if you're dealing with two logical, rational adults.
but i'll definitely take you up on the "ship the asshole up here" offer. he's all yours. :)
You know that Bob is going to figure out that DB is a total shithead very soon if he hasn't figured it out already.
What he said about Ben just about broke my heart. He is one sweet kid!
Why do you feel guilting asking Ben to do things for Bob? You've made Ben a part of your family and maybe asking him to do more will alleviate that pressure on yourself. You need to learn to let go sometimes and let them two work it out. Bob's getting older and wiser and as you said, he's figuring out which of the men in his life are the dependable ones and which are the shitty ones - let it happen.
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