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We’ve spent the day in the driveway, sanding and finishing shelves and oddments for the entertainment ctr Sweet Daddio is building. It takes up a whole wall, floor to ceiling and will have room (once the shelves are in) for books and books and electronics and books and maybe the odd decorative piece. Probably very odd, as we are Not Normal at all.
I ought to be packing and such. I’m going to spend a few days (maybe as much as a week, or more, I don’t really know) at my parent’s, as Dad is having surgery and will be in the hospital for 5 days, Mom doesn’t drive at night and needs some hand holding, and someone generally needs to be available with some rationality on tap. That would be me.
It might also be good for me to get off for a bit. The kids and I, we have not been getting along too well recently, and I think I need to be away from them before I become violent or overly emotional.
It’s that whole “I’m a housewife and everyone is taking me for granted” saw. Maybe I’m over reacting, maybe I’m not. I don’t know. I just know that I’m thinking it will be a good thing to be in a household where the members are are actually grateful for my presence.
(feeling sorry for yourself a bit, Rootie? *ya think??*
Ok this is petty, but it’s indicative of my sensitivity: A couple of weeks ago, when I knew i would spending some time at my parent’s, I made plans to cook up some meals for the menfolk and put them in the freezer, stuff they could dump in the crock pot in the morning, and have a hot tasty meal when they all got home. “Oh, you don’t need to do that, we’ll use this as a chance to buy quick-cooking stuff, we’ll take care of all that.” Well, in my mind that translated as “We’d much rather eat Hamburger Helper than anything you could cook.” And that was just about as offensive as it could possibly get. I was (and still am, because it takes me along time to get over these things) really hurt by that.
Oh yes. My family would rather eat hamburger helper than a rich, savory pot roast and gravy. They’d rather have instant red beans and rice from a box than a Thai chicken satay with homemade peanut sauce.
It makes me want to say “Fine. I’m not cooking for you anymore. I’ll cook for me and if there’s enough for you to have some that’s nice and if not, you can make yourself a bowl of ramen.”
I’m thinking several days away will be good for all of us. And, if they do just fine without me, that’s ok too. I don’t have to come back.