Beautiful Disaster

Today is the last day of Jeremy's series on What Women Think. About Dads. It's been really interesting hearing the points of view of 4 other women, all of us having different backrounds and stories. You can read the whole thing here. The comments are really good, too. Lots of great guys came out to read and discuss, and even the sore spots were discussed, not argued, you know? It was truly a learning experience.

Yesterday's topic was Pet Peeves, and I think this one was the most interesting. All 5 of us women had varying opinions on everything; sex, marriage, looks. But the Pet Peeves one? 5 totally different answers. Five controversial answers. Why? Because everyone is annoying in their own, special, unique way.

I felt kind of guilty about what I said about The Donor. I accidentally made him sound like an ass. That's what I get for trying to be funny. As penance, I would like to share with you the things, and I'm just guessing here, that I do that make him want to take a bat to my head on a regularish basis. To prove that no one's perfect. To prove that I know I am just as much an asshole a perfectly, beautifully flawed person as him.

I totally would love it if you did a list on your blog, a list of things you do that are just, well, stupid. And annoying. And that make loving you just a little hard. Things your spouse would call Pet Peeves.

I am a horrible housekeeper. Really, I am. My floors are never swept, I have made ONE bed in the past month, I just cleaned my fridge out for the first time in a *ahem* year. I iron semi-annually. I really, truly suck.

I am terribly disorganized. I lose my keys daily, leave cell phones and purses on hoods of cars, never have the kids sports equipment ready until 5 minutes before we have to leave, am scattered, cluttered, and I think there's a little brown cloud that follows me around wherever I go.

I spoil the kids. Overly. Excessively. I do make them do chores and stuff, but they get stretch limos and private cruises for turning TEN. They get ice cream after every ball game, not just the big one. I give them $10 a week allowance if they do all their chores (which they almost never do anyway). I let them play Wii when their room needs cleaning, and at a certain point will just go clean it for them. It's awful, and I am ashamed. But I do it anyway.

I floss too close to the bathroom mirror. 'Nuff said.

I really like my blog. Also, 'Nuff said.

I whine at my kids. I haven't mastered Deep Tone yet. Whining gets me nowhere. Snapping, doubly so. Guilty as charged.

I swear. Excessively. You've read my blog; you know. He'd really like me to teach the kids Earmuffs. I haven't just yet.

I insist he calls me on his way home from work. I do this because I want to know when I only have 30 minutes left to clean the entire house, but this seems to annoy the shit out of him. He surprises me a lot. And walks into a tornado. Bygones.

I kinda make fun of him a lot. It's sucktastic, I know. I rib him for still listening to New Order and The Smiths, I criticize him for the fact that he never dresses for less than dinner with the Queen. Really, I nag him about looking TOO GOOD. All the time.

I rearrange the house. ALL THE TIME.

I never do anything more than 3/4 of the way. I have more unfinished projects than...well, I haven't had enough coffee yet, but you get it. I have a LOT of unfinished projects.

I never get out of this house. I don't do it on purpose, I'm really not trying to be a martyr, but I don't and I am totally a martyr about it. I am thinking about buying myself a cross to nail myself onto. After a few weeks of no adult contact, I am a raging bitch. He's had to shove me out the door with $10 for coffee and my laptop more than once.

I baby my kids. 3of3 calls herself Baby 3of3. Guess where she gets that from? I am really bad at letting them grow up.

I ignore his parenting advice. I mean, what does he know? He's here one day a week, for fuck's sake. How dare he tell ME what to do or how to do it? Thing is, he has YET to be wrong about something. Smart Jerk.

I bite my nails. I pick at my toenails. It drives him to drink.

I am the cheapest human alive. I will not let him spend a dime on anything that isn't essential for eating, sleeping or breathing. He is NOT the cheapest human alive. It's a conflict.

I never let him have his way in bed. ... ... ... Are your minds out of the gutter yet? Good. I can't sleep with any light, at all, or any sound, at all. He can't sleep without his bedside light on, his booklight on, and the TV blaring SuperNanny at midnight. I make him sit on the couch watching tv until he's almost unconscious and then stagger to bed. Why? Because my sleep is more important than his, that's why.

I don't shop for him. He eats here one day a week, and I am not so hot at the whole Eating Regularly thing, so I shop for the kids, almost exclusively. I can drop $300 at the grocery one day, and he'll come home that night and find not ONE thing to eat. Seeings how he's the one earning that $300, maybe it would be nice if $20 of it went to chips.

I thank him too much. If we go buy me nice shampoo, or a new top, I thank him. I'm just grateful, you know? It's not my money he's spending on me. His point? It IS my money, too, and it makes him feel like a jerk when I thank him for every little thing.

I don't argue. We've actually had fights about the fact that I won't fight. In 12 1/2 years, we have had, maybe, 10 fights. TOTAL. Most of those involved someone moving out. As nice as it is to not ever deal with fighting, I think it drives him insane that I totally refuse to, and have no idea how to, argue like reasonable people do.

He does not agree with the fact that I have no contact with my very living, breathing parents. I'm not sure why, because I know he understands why I choose to pretend they're dead, but understanding and approving are tow very different things.

I could do this all day, kids. Point is, no one's perfect. We all are insanely annoying in our own beautiful way. And that's all I've got. Happy Friday, one and all. Let me know if you list your flaws, so I can throw a link up.

People who suck almost as much as I do:


Audubon Ron