Monday, July 6, 2009

OMG! Did I become a housewife without even getting married?

There are things in my life that I have always held dear, and through the strain of motherhood, very few of those things have remained intact. But one thing keeps on slapping me in the face. I don't want to be somebody's housewife. So much so that when Ben and I were talking about marriage we decided not to because I have such an issue with being his legal property even if in modern times it isn't REALLY like that (right?).

So (and here's a bomb being dropped) Ben and I have been going to couple's counseling because we had a hell of a transition from AZ to here and also because he believes I can be a real asshole sometimes and I think he can be too much like a nagging wife. So we've been working all this out and it seems to be going really well and we're getting along and then it occurred to me that Ben no longer nags me. And he no longer complains that I am working too much (because I only work part time now) and he also refuses to do bedtime because "he hates it" and financially, the whole house rests on him.

Through the wonders of couples counseling, I have tried to be more open and loving and attentive to him when he has a rough day. I am trying to understand that I can't pass Lila off to him immediately when he walks in from work no matter how much I want to strangle her at that moment. I am primary parent who spends the most time with her and I have come to accept that. Its me she wants when she falls down and its me that gets up with her at night.

When the fuck did I become Donna fucking Reed? How did this happen? I was happy being the reluctant mother. I am still pissed off. I still hate doing dishes. And yet I DO THEM. ALL THE TIME. Whoever said the only constants in life are death and taxes never lived with a 2 year old because toys on the floor and dishes in the sink are ALWAYS a-plenty.

I am pissed that I am his housewife without the benifits of being a wife. I am pissed that I got suckered into it. And the worst part is that he still wishes that I was working full time! Why, so that I could also work 40 hours a week but then come home and pick up your shit and tend to a kid that learned to say bad words at Grandmas house? No thanks.

Maybe I am just having another bout of my typical commitment phobia. Maybe it's a little too late for that though.

Friday, July 3, 2009

The dreaded shots

I had to take Lila for her 2 year check up the other day and I started dreading it weeks in advance. Would it traumatize her forever? Now that she is old enough would she scream every time we mentioned the doctor because she remembers being poked and stuck with needles?

Turns out, no. My brave girl didnt even cry when they gave her that one shot. She had the pouty face and looked like she might burst into tears, but she didn't. And when they did her finger prick she said "OWWW" but was fascinated as she watched them squeeze blood from her little tiny finger.

Once in a while I am so proud of her that it makes me want to puke.