Apparently, no one cares what I can do to pictures now. From the impression I got, it was old hat and I was the last one to jump aboard that train. Whatever.
I am in a mood today. I am not really sure what kind of mood we can call it. It's not a good one. It's not a horrible one either. It's a mixture of sadness, frustration, hurt, appreciation, and even a little happiness in there. It's life really. Life sucks. Well, wait. Life doesn't suck. It's just a sneaky bitch is all. Take this weekend for example...
I have been in a really good mood lately. Since, like, Valentines day when Bee and I got back together. Sure, I had my moments, but overall, I could say that generally speaking, I was in a good mood. Life was going my way. Any anger, frustration, sadness was all momentary and replaced with that good mood and happiness.
Then, this weekend. Not that this weekend was bad. It really wasn't! However, the stars aligned, my mood shifted, or something and I let all these tiny little things that, on any other given day, would not even cause me to bat an eyelash, piss me off and frustrate me to no end.
Friday night I left work and went out to Bee's. Might as well call it "home" because I am always there. I just have a really expensive storage unit. Anywho. I get out to his house. It's a mess. It needs to be cleaned. Badly. I know he wants to clean it. I know he wants to have it clean. However, it's the motivation to get it done he is lacking. I feel him on that and don't blame him. It's a bit overwhelming and he's tired. Bee works really hard at his job and it's a physically demanding job anyway.
He tells me that we can not go pick up his 16 year old who's weekend it is to come visit with us until 9pm because she has some Kingdom Hall thing (Yeah, she is a J.W. It's kind of a point of contention between those two..). So, we are just hanging out and relaxing. He is on the phone with one of the players from the football team. Then another, then another, then another. Then 25 min of me trying to tell him about something, only to get interrupted every thirty seconds by text messages from said coach he was just on the phone with. Then, as I am trying to finish up my sentence, the phone rings. It's another player. He answers it and I am cut off mid sentence. Now, this is the life of the girlfriend of a team owner. It's business. He has to answer these calls. He has to be available to his players. The season is about to start and they have a big scrimmage coming up the following weekend. I have been with him for a year now. I know this. I knew this getting into a relationship with him. Both times. 9 times out of 10, it really doesn't bother me. But this was that 1 out of 10 time that it did.
We get ready to leave and little man can't find a pair of clean pants. Bee and I go to help him and his room is a mess which frustrates Bee. He tells the kids that we, as in all four of us are going to clean on Saturday. Then he corrects himself because he will be gone all day Saturday. I jerk around and look at him because this is the first I am hearing of any of that. "Oh yeah, forgot to tell you baby, I have an all day coaches clinic at the college I have to go to." This upset me because I hate finding things out with the kids. I hate when he doesn't inform me of these things. It's not that he needs my permission. It's not that I had anything going on, per say, it's just this relationship is a partnership. We do things together. We discuss things together. We at least inform our partners of things in advance. I mean, I told him Wednesday that my mom and dad needed me to come out and help them with stuff at the house and that I was going to be gone most of Sunday. He apologizes. I accept. however I am still a little peeved because the house NEEDS to be cleaned. It needs to be sorted through. He has limited time to do all of this. It's not MY house. It's not MY things. I am wanting to do this for HIS benefit. But whatever. He offered to let me come to the clinic too. I declined. It would be a waste of $10.00. I would clean and have the kids clean their rooms.
We go have dinner at KFC right by his daughter's mom's house. I was interrupted another 4-5 times due to texts and phone calls, but the actual dinner part was nice. The four of us sat and ate together and had good conversation. In fact, the whole thing was sweet because Bee is not really a huge fan of KFC, but knew I was craving it, so that's why we stopped. Anyway, we got to his daughters house and waited for 40 min because she wasn't home yet. Then we got home and, as if people could sense that he was home and we were about to enjoy "winding down" time together, his phone starts blowing up again and he is on with the same coach from earlier for two hours. By the time he gets off the phone, I am exhausted. He is exhausted and being that he has to be up at 7am, we go to bed.
Saturday, we get up at 7am. We cuddle, we have some alone time, and then he gets up and gets ready to go. He walks out the door at 8am and that's when I start cleaning. I cleaned, and cleaned, and cleaned, and cleaned some more. I did 6 loads of laundry and at 2:30pm when he got home, I had only gotten the kitchen cleaned and most of the living room. I still have the Dining room and our bedroom and bathroom to do. However, what I did get done looks amazing. It's clean, and I scrubbed everything down with Lysol so I know it's clean and disinfected. I prefer bleach, but he didn't have any. I was frustrated with him and the kids. He has his little spot and he at least keeps his mess condensed to that spot. But, he doesn't get after the kids for their messes (I don't know if it's guilt because their mom isn't around, or if it's he's too tired, or just doesn't have the motivation for it). I mean, little man eats his cereal and most meals at the kitchen counter. In his spot, there was soooo much stuck food to the counter and floor, I had to scrub it, with a scrub brush....for a long time. I gave the kids a lecture about taking responsibility for their messes and their house. I don't know how well it worked.
Bee came home, made some rules about only eating in the kitchen at the kitchen table from now on. Remember to wash out your dishes because Monkee cleaned really well and we need to keep it that way blah blah blah...Then, even though I really needed to stay at the house and finish my cleaning, I was dog tired and I missed him, so I went to practice with him. Then afterwards, we got dinner and went home...where his phone blew up again and he spent the rest of the evening on the phone with various players, but mostly the same coach from Friday night.
After the kids ate and dispersed, I went in the kitchen to find they just up and left their food wrappers and drinks on the table. Dishes were in the sink even though the dishwasher was empty. My frustration built a little bit more. I should have yelled for them to come in and take care of it, but I was tired, I didn't want to be the "Bossy Step-Mom", and I figured they would half-ass it anyway because they are kids and half-assing it is all they know and I would just come up behind them and re-do it anyway, so I just cleaned it up. At least it was done to my standard.
Bee and I went to bed early again since we were up early and both tired. Sunday, he woke up at 8am. He tries to not stir too much and wake me, but I am a light sleeper when it comes to him and I woke up too. I finished folding all the laundry from Saturday, and then went out to my parents house where I spent the day cleaning, wrapping up break-ables in newspaper, and scraping wallpaper off of the walls. Side note: I will never own or be responsible for a house that has wallpaper in it. Ever. From this point on. I want to find the inventor of it, resurrect him (Like Jesus but a whole lot LESS Holy) and kill him again.
I was out at their house for 6 hours and I was tired, dirty, and itchy from wallpaper dust. I got on the road for home, relieved that I could wind down with my baby for the night before the work week started again. I text him to let him know I was on my way and he told me he was out with Tucker at Harry Buffalo and did I want to meet him there. I was slightly annoyed because he made it sound like he had been there for a bit and it was 7:45 at night...didn't he think I would be home soon? Shouldn't he have at least text me to let me know that he was out in case I just came home? I mean, I only text him because I saw something funny on the way out there. I didn't plan on texting him...oh well, maybe he was just waiting for the text to let him know where I was so he could invite me. Whatever. I felt kinda weird going to Harry Buffalo because, like I said, I was dirty, dusty, needed a shower, and had no bra on, but whatever. I met them, we ate, it was good, and I am glad I went.
I had to stop and get gas on the way home so, Bee and the kiddo's were already home when I got there. I walked in, first time since I had been gone all day and I see the two giant garbage bags sitting where I had left them. I had asked Bee yesterday before I left if he could please take them out to the trash cans for me because they were too heavy for me to lift. And oh yeah, I cleaned your house for you. He was on the phone. Again. With the same coach he had been on the phone with for the whole weekend. It's 9:45 at night. I have barely talked to him all day. They aren't even really talking about the team football. They are talking NFL football. I go to get a drink out of the kitchen, and it's a mess. There is kool-aide spilled on the counter and not cleaned up so now it's dried and sticky. There are three bowls in the sink. Not washed out with food stuck to them which is now hardened. A pot on the stove with crusty food in it. The package of noodles was empty and left on the counter. There were sticky glasses of kool-aide left on the counter and bowls and silverware left on the table. Bee is the the living room playing XBOX yukking it up with his new apparent BFF. I am tired. I am dirty. I spent my WHOLE weekend Cleaning. I feel like I haven't gotten two minutes alone with him to finish a sentence, and now the kitchen I just spent 4 hours cleaning is messy again. I know he spent most of his day, in his chair, playing xbox, letting the kids destroy the house. Not to mention, he left the fucking garbage bags out. I was done. Frustration level overflow.
I cleaned up the kitchen. Again. I was barely holding back tears of frustration when I went into the living room and declared the kitchen was a mess again. He kinda waived me off while talking about Tim Tebow. I sat down and started pouting while messing around on my laptop stewing. I was itching more now and my face felt like there was wallpaper dust all over it. He motioned for me to come sit next to him while he was on the phone. I told him I was going to shower. He seemed hurt. I didn't care. I went and took my shower, stewed some more. I got dressed in clean pj's and went back out into the living room where he was still on the phone. He motioned for me to sit next to him again. I did. He got off the phone and asked me what was the matter. I told him about the kitchen. He said he didn't know what was so bad about a few dishes. I told him what he couldn't see from just walking past it. He sympathized, but that was about it. The thing is, I don't mind taking on the role as domestic head of household. I like cleaning, cooking, doing laundry and all that jazz. But, I am NOT a maid. I worked hard cleaning and in less than 24 hours, had I not cleaned it back up, twice, it would have been destroyed again. That's not fair.
Then, he asked why I was upset. Now, the "old" me would have swallowed it down and said nothing and pasted a smile on my face. Letting him think I was fine and nothing was wrong while it was eating me up inside. I promised him and myself I would NOT do that this time. So, I told him I was frustrated and why I was. His phone ringing non-stop this weekend. Being cut-off mid sentence blah blah blah. And I am not good with any other emotions other than "Happiness", so they all come out in tears. Anger, sadness, frustration...and so cue the waterworks. He felt attacked. We fought. We fought for over an hour. He felt I was asking him to not be himself. Not give football his 100%. Not loving me as much as football. I felt he was being insensitive. Punishing me for doing what he asked of me, which was owning my feelings when I had them instead of letting them eat me up until it blows up into a huge fight.
I kept telling him that 9 times out of 10, his football stuff doesn't bother me. Honestly, it doesn't. I am proud of my guy and all he accomplishes. I am proud of the fact he is loved and respected by his team mates. They trust him and they look up to him. That makes me beam with pride that my baby is all of that...but sometimes...just sometimes...the sacrifice gets to me. I am not asking him to give it up. Not be himself. I was just asking that he at least acknowledge that there is a sacrifice on my part and that he does appreciate it. Now, don't get me wrong, he does do that, but sometimes you just need to hear it on your terms. He he looked at me when I expressed my feelings to him and said, "Yeah baby. I know. I'm sorry that you are feeling that way. You are a good egg" I would have felt 100000 times better and all would have been fine in that moment. But he reacted to my emotions and off we went.
We finally made it to bed around midnight. We argued a little more..but eventually made up. Truly accepted each others apologies...and even had a little giggle time like we do every night before bed. We went to sleep and today started like every other day.
He's over it. At least, he seemed like his normal lovey self with me this morning before work and when I talked to him on my way into work. He really probably is over it. Honestly, that is number 4058384 why I love that man. He is passionate and when we fight, he takes it personal. He is deeply affected by our fights. However, when he apologizes and accepts your apology, that's it. It's done in his mind and he moves on. Me? I am a natural neurotic, worrier. I am over it too. I honestly have accepted his apology. Yet, I worry. I worry he really isn't over it and is upset at me. Which is why I hate fighting. Which is why I tend to swallow any negative feelings I have in ANY relationship, be it family, friends, co-workers, and paste that permanent smile on my face and let everyone think everything is A-OK! I don't know why I am like that. I don't know why it literally causes me to lose sleep to think that someone, ANYONE, is mad at me.....
I hate fighting. I hate making the ones I love and care for upset. It makes me sad. And even after it's all said and done and they move on, I am left with a fight hangover....and that makes me sad. Yet, aren't I allowed to own my feelings? Even if sometimes (not saying this time they were or anything...but generally speaking) they are ridiculous?
My BFF Rose is right. I am Fucking Crazy....
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