I lifted my very sleep deprived head and then jammed it back down on to the pillow when it was deemed that I still had a few more minutes of well deserved sleep. Apparently, now late husband felt that I didn't need that sleep. My husband felt that my time would be better served by finding him a t-shirt and boxers. Ummmm....at what point did it become my responsibility to make sure that a perfectly able 33 yr old man had clothing?
We are digressing. This is definite back sliding on the roles of our marriage.
I am not wife circa 1950's who is responsible for laying out clean undergarments for his wearing each day. I don't run to him when I need clothes. Not. His. Responsibility. Am big girl. Able to find my own underwear.
I instruct him where he can find said items, albeit rather rudely and sleepily.
I lay back down just as soon as I can see his needs have been met. You're welcome. I want to scream that at him, but I am tired!
Not but a few minutes later I am roused....yet again. This time though, I'm not just aggitated and rude...I am pissed.
It seems our 9 soon to be 10 year old is in need of a uniform. I have gone from moderately pissed to extremely pissed in 1 second flat.
I have made it a routine of asking her every night before bed.....
- Do you have a clean uniform for school?
- Do you have anything that we need to look over or sign that has to be returned tomorrow?
Do I physically go and check every item?
No.
Do I peel through her backpack for the seven hundreth time?
No.
I am sorry....but at some point she has to be responsible for herself. I think 5th grade is a GREAT jumping off point for the diving board that is life's responsibility.
Apparently husband disagrees as he so angrily pointed out with his, "you deal with it...I can't handle it this morning".
Really?? Seriously??
You can rebuild a cars engine but you can't deal with finding khaki bottoms and school shirt. What the shit?
When did it become universal that wives...mothers...women, have to be the one to deal with the clothing crisises of the world??
I don't remember signing that form. I don't remember allocating that task to myself and myself alone. I don't remember saying..."I will take every midnight feeding and diaper change. I will miss work for every flu, fever, cold and pre-menstrual moment that our darling daughters display. I will make sure that clothing is readily available at their fingertips even when they hide it under beds, cram it in closets and never seem to grasp that the dirty stuff goes in the laundry hamper so I must go on an expedition daily to hunt down necessary items."
Nope...must have missed that meeting.
I must have...in all my mental undoing...been able to achieve some level of teaching responsibility because I have a teenager daughter that not only manages to get up on time with the aid of an alarm clock even when she had to stay up late to write a paper or talk to a friend over matters of great social importance but who also has clean clothing to get dressed in. Part of this is from the fact that while I was a single mom I relied heavily upon a schedule. She learned to respond to that level of organization and THANKFULLY it has carried over into this next facet of her growing up.
She remains fully responsible for her clothing. She dirties it...therefore...she washes it! I know! Brilliance...sheer and total brilliance.
I will give it to Hannah that she has been raised in a bit less of a structured enviroment but she has had something that Olivia didn't which was a constant two parent household from conception, to birth and everyday thereafter. You would think that would lend itself to a more concrete foundation to build upon.
Sadly this has not been the case. I will concede that my past 3 years of in and out deep depression have made structure a bit difficult. But where I slipped in the parental department I thought my significant other would step up and cover the bases I was missing. That hasn't happened. Jon has managed to keep the financial aspect of our life afloat but when it's come to maintaining a standard of parental structure...not so much.
This is not a husband bashing post. It is merely an observation that no matter how far I fall I am still expected to pull myself together to maintain a certain standard for my children. If the tides turned and it was Jon that began to crack and fall apart I would hope that I would find the strength to not only hold it together for myself but maintain a level of stucture for the kids.
I wish that I could let go of the anger that this moment of Monday madness has brought upon me, but I can't. It's just another reminder of how no matter what happens it always falls to the mother to keep it together. I will never truly be able to step out of my role and find a way to pull myself together. At least not while there are socks, underwear and pants to be located.
Just another notch on the belt of failure I've created in this downward dip known as depression. Pass the prozac please!
~JP
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