Okay....I am officially pissed about the week long skiing trip.
When he first brought this to my attention, like five minutes after his friend proposed, I made every effort to be the nice supportive June Cleaver wife and sit with a smile as he voiced his plans and excitement over the fun, fun, fun they would have. What started out as a three day weekend has now blossomed into a full week of ski and drink and good times which I imagine is not cheap. The money isn't that big an issue to me, I mean I'm not making any money, he may as well spend his daily wages how he wants, but it does kind of grate on my nerves when he starts ranting about not having any money to retire on when I purchase my baby a pair of seven dollar pajamas, but an expensive vacation is a-ok. Of course, I should clarify that whenever my husband receives a bonus of any type he deposits it in his very own savings account that can only be accessed by him.....it his "money" to do what he wants with, it isn't "shared" money that we could use to pay bills or save for a new house. I guess that's fine, but I work my ass off every single day, where the hell is my bonus? I guess the fact that I get to eat and have a roof over my head is bonus enough huh? At least that is the way he makes me feel about it. In my husband's eyes I sit on my ass all day long because even though by the time he makes it home 12 hours later each day I have cleaned the house three times, washed four loads of laundry, cooked three meals, ran all the errands, and entertained his children, all he sees are the couch cushions on the floor because I didn't scramble quickly enough to pick them up for the fortieth time or the sticky spots on the floor, or chili AGAIN how dare me.
Last evening I had the balls to put my pajamas on at 7 and climb into bed to watch television alone. I figured he was getting six nights alone, I was going to take my turn and you know what? My kids didn't get bathed until after 9 because my husband was stomping around in a snit vacuuming (after I had already done it that day) and bitching about our filthy, cluttered house and how he could get it all done in an hour what the hell am I doing all damn day while dragging that vacuum right into the bedroom interrupting my alone time. He was pissed because I wasn't up scurrying around like a crazy person all evening long. The hell? He gets a VACATION and I am supposed to feel guilty for going to bed early? Now, my husband is not a horrible person, he is just painfully misguided and has unrealistic ideas about how a wife is supposed to behave. He is expecting Donna Reed; he is going to be waiting an awfully long time.
His friend is arriving this afternoon, spending the night so they can take the red eye to Denver in the morning, I know I am expected to make a huge meal and probably a big breakfast as well. I am sure he wants the house spotless and the kids on their best behavior (lol). I can do all those things, except maybe the kid thing, but why is it so necessary? Why can't we go out for pizza and they pick up a cinnamon bun at the terminal tomorrow?
Yeah, yeah, my marriage vows say somewhere that I should submit to the husband and follow his lead, yada, yada, yada, but really, do I have to be happy about it? My husband cannot take a morning off to go to chapel with his son, but can take a week to ski with a dude, this doesn't sit well with me right now. Of course, the last time they took a trip together they were mistaken for a gay couple, so just knowing they will probably get that again helps a little, but geez, I am tired and achy and desperate for more than a three minute shower. So, yes, I am pissed. I suspect by the time he comes home next Friday I will be even more pissed, you know wrestling children 24/7. I cannot be responsible for the credit card bills that come in January....I hear the stores calling my name. Retail therapy, it's good for the soul.
Can't Blog. Busy Summering.
6 hours ago