Ever wished your partner would help out more around the house, or at least pick up after themselves? I know I have on countless occasions; in fact I’ve often posted status updates on facebook to the tune of, ‘attention. Iceblock wrappers belong in the bin not on the lounge’ or ‘the safety gate is not your personal clothes horse’ or ‘clothes go in the washing basket not on the floor next to the washing basket, etc. I’ve been getting especially frustrated lately when Big Daddy can’t find something and asks me where I’ve ‘moved it too’, my not so polite response usually details the fact that he never puts things away in the same place he got them and how can I keep the house clean when my time is consumed tidying and putting away after him instead of scrubbing or vacuuming. Well this last fortnight I finally got what I wished for...in spades.
Big Daddy went around the house and tidied it to within an inch of its life he threw things away found homes for things that never had homes, wiped down surfaces that have never been wiped he even vacuumed and dusted. It was a beautiful sight to behold I showered him with praise. Praise was met with a lecture about how now if we just make sure we keep on top of things it won’t be a big job etc. I bit my tongue, knowing that I had shouted that exact rant only days before. The next few days I started to notice something strange and unnerving, I was losing my mind. Every time I put something down I seemed to lose it. I was constantly sure that I had gotten things out of their homes to use them for something but after several minutes of searching would find them still safely in their homes. Normally I would blame mummy brain but this was getting ridiculous, the house was tidier than ever how could I still be losing things? Then it dawned on me, I seemed to have grown an extra shadow... a round looming Big Daddy shaped shadow. It had been almost a week and the house was still spotless, however Big Daddy seemed constantly frustrated, sighing, shaking his head and closing things just a little louder than they needed to be closed. This behaviour seemed familiar. It is the very same passive aggressive behaviour I employ when I’m brewing on something. Instantly I knew he was getting frustrated with my ‘mess’, I started becoming defensive shouting at him to sit down I would get to it in a second. It all came to a head one morning when I was scurrying trying to unpack the table after breakfast while the Chunky Monkey was still content and before Big Daddy swooped. Too late, the next thing I knew he was at the sink huffily washing a bowl. I tersely told him to put it down I was about to do it..and then the lecture began, apparently my problem is that I don’t finish one job before I start another. Excuse me! ‘My problem’ I told him ‘is that somebody has kidnapped my easy going relaxed man and replaced him with fucking Gestapo! I can’t even stop to scratch my ass before someone is getting impatient about the dish that has been on the bench for a whole 3 fucking minutes!’ The ensuing argument lasted a good 2 days, which is pretty unusual for us and there didn’t appear to be any resolution however we now seemed to have reached a happy medium...I think. Well the house is still tidy at least and I seem to be keeping on top of it to a standard that Big Daddy is content with, things are good. Well thats what I thought until I went for my morning wee and saw that the corners on the toilet roll had been folded hotel style. Lord give me strength!
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