Holy Cow – two posts in one day! It’s AMAZING!!!! Ok, not really, but I did figure everyone deserved one true blog post since the other one was all about Alex, aka the birthday boy.
One of the things I’m striving for in this blog is honesty. I stink at journaling, but you know what….I’m oddly proficient at blogging. (this might have something to do with how much I hate my handwriting…I mean come on, even my husband has nicer hand-writing than I do!) So as happy go lucky in our relationship as we are, Alex and I do fight. GASP! SHOCK! HORROR! Amazing, right?!? Ha ok I am kidding.
Last night we fought about Alex’s amazing tendency to 1. Never tell me his plans ahead of time and 2. His inability to say the small little word called “No.” I already know I’m going to have to be the disciplinarian in this relationship, but I mean seriously do I have to start with my husband??? Alex volunteered to work OT these past two weekends, which meant getting up at 3 a.m. Now, I’m the world’s lightest sleeper, plus we don’t have a guest bed, so you can imagine how peachy keen I was on him having to get up at 3 a.m. on Friday and Saturday last weekend and this weekend. Not.At.All. However, hey he would still be home for dinner and it was pretty nice money. Which is helpful. So I didn’t complain. Much.
Last night after he finally gets home at 8:30 p.m. (I’d like to remind everyone the man gets off at 3:30) he informed me he had picked up the next 4 days to get up at a bright and early at 3 a.m. So that’s right folks, on my two days off (and his) dingdong volunteered to get up at 3 a.m.
Alex: I don’t see what the big deal is? I’ll be home by 8 a.m.
Stephanie: Oh I don’t know sweetie, just something about how we agreed to TALK FIRST. Not just you say YES.
Stephanie: No it’s not whatever. It’s called Marriage. It’s called Partnership. It’s called compromise. Compromise is not you agreeing to stuff only to forget about it every time you want to do stuff.
And yes, I realize we fight like 5 year olds. But I also sure as poop hope the man learns what the heck compromise means BEFORE we have kids. Otherwise, we’re screwed. So is the kid for that matter.
I know I wanted to marry a man like my father, because really I’m a daddy’s girl at heart. But seriously? Did I have to marry the one that embodied the good AND the really drives you up the freaking wall stuff too? So we argued, I stewed while watching my movie and sent him to get the heck away from me and go mow our weed garden otherwise known as a front lawn. By the time he came back I had given up on eating together at a decent hour let alone actually talking. So now here we are on his birthday, I’m quite positive the man is over his side of being upset. I’m mostly over my side. However, I’m still upset about stuff and I want to talk. Which might as well be the nail in any guy’s coffin.
So I guess that brings me to my final thought: Does anybody have a large blow up hammer? I need to beat my husband upside the head.