It all started when DH decided to rearrange the living room a few days ago. By himself. To install not one, but two surround sound systems given to us by his grandparents. He brought it up at 11:30 p.m. in the middle of Baby T's post-shots/teething meltdown (which lasted from Tuesday to yesterday) and I was way too tired to come up with a logical argument for why the current living arrangement was perfectly fine. So I let him do it. All by himself.
The next morning, I was actually pretty pleased with how it turned out. Despite the fact that there is no longer a place for me to exercise. Or that the coffee table is under the keyboard. Or the fact that four speakers are now perched precariously on the arms of our chairs for that "movie theater experience". Sigh.
I decided to let it go, however. I can curb my anal-retentive tendencies. Really.
That was the state of the union until today. This morning I had the best of intentions. I drank some tea, read my Bible, prayed and comforted a screaming baby while my husband complained about me directing aforementioned infant's screams RIGHT TOWARDS HIS EAR HOLE WHILE HE WAS TRYING TO SLEEP. Didn't I know he had been up playing video games until 1 a.m.? Um, yeah. I knew. I barely restrained the urge to smash his face in. Whew.
After putting munchkin back to bed, I temporarily rearranged the living room so I could exercise. Then I actually got to take a shower. Which is always a luxury when you have young children ... or live in a third world country. Parenting is kinda like living in a third world country, actually. You don't get to eat, you don't get to sleep, you don't get to bathe, your bathroom is public domain ...
After putting munchkin back to bed, I temporarily rearranged the living room so I could exercise. Then I actually got to take a shower. Which is always a luxury when you have young children ... or live in a third world country. Parenting is kinda like living in a third world country, actually. You don't get to eat, you don't get to sleep, you don't get to bathe, your bathroom is public domain ...
After that shower, I was ready for anything. It's Super Mommy! It's Wonder Wife! Ready to take on the world with her $3,000 vacuum and her yellow rubber gloves. Let's open a can o' whoop-ants on this messy house! Boo ya!
Fast forward to 3:05 p.m. I am blogging. Because I cannot get this house clean no matter how hard I try. Baby munchkin is fussy and wants to be held and every time I turn around something completely random has sprung out of the crack it was stuffed into. Like the cover for a set of golf clubs WE NO LONGER OWN. And the miscellaneous boxes for the surround sound system on the floor of the nursery. And two basketballs perched on top of a haphazard pile of Rock Band equipment (WTHeck?) And an old VCR laying in the corner of the living room. And a fishing pole ... NEXT TO MY BED. Which would be okay if we lived in a hunting lodge ... or a third world country.
I blame this chaos on the living room redesign.
I blame this chaos on the living room redesign.
What is it about men that makes them think it's okay to park random crap all over the house? Is it some quest to thwart our burning desire to be June Cleaver? Do they think we enjoy cleaning up after them? Do they not realize that throwing dirty socks into the hamper instead of on the floor next to the hamper really isn't that hard?
To be honest, I think they just forget. But, boy, does that bitterness and resentment build up fast over stupid things like fishing poles and dirty socks. And it is SO hard to get rid of.
Over the course of our marriage, I have learned the best medicine for bitterness is forgiveness. I find myself saying, several times a day, "I forgive my husband for any offense, real or imagined, and I choose to love him through Christ who strengthens me." And now I'm saying it again. And in five minutes I'll probably say it again. Of course, my husband probably has to say the same thing about me. Over and over and over. But isn't that what Jesus instructed us to do?
Matthew 18:21-23 (NIV)
21 Then Peter came to Jesus and asked, “Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother or sister who sins against me? Up to seven times?” 22 Jesus answered, “I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times."
I'm going to make the bed, vacuum, wipe down the bathroom, mop up some muddy footprints and then I'm going to relax. Because I'm pretty sure DH would much rather come home to a happy wife than a spotless house.
And if my husband asks me "What did you make for dinner?" when he gets home at five, I'm going to karate chop him in the neck meat say, "I forgive my husband for any offense, real or imagined ..."
Caiti
P.S. The link below goes to a great article about housekeeping and marriage. Check it out and make your husband read it!
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