So Tired of Life

I'm just physically, mentally and emotionally drained. Like, ready to collapse.

There's a bunch of stuff going on with the hobgoblin that needs its own post.  But that's not what this is about.

Today's rant is brought to you by Mr. Wolfman, who seems to be going out of his way to make me feel like shit.

After yet another night of no sleep, I went to bed when he got up at 9am. He woke me up at 10, because an hour is a reasonable amount of sleep, I guess. Ok, fine. I made us breakfast, and wanted to mess around a bit on Facebook, then do the dishes. As I finished my reading, the hobgoblin wanted to eat, so I started nursing him.

Mr. Wolfman, who, incidentally, has been playing Legos by himself for half an hour (he had been playing with the Monster, who had gotten bored and wandered away) asked if I had done the dishes. No, I'm feeding the Hobgoblin. 10 minutes later, Hobgoblin is still eating, he asks if I've done the dishes yet.

Yes. I got up, ran to the kitchen, unloaded, reloaded and ran the dishwasher, then got back here and snuck the baby back onto my breast.

So, I was a little tetchy.

I go to do the dishes and the smell of diaper shit in the kitchen is overwhelming, so I say to Mr. Wolfman (not accusingly, mind you, even though it was him who decided to get rid of our last garbage can) that we really ought to get one that closes because it smells. And he goes off on me. We have millions  of garbage cans, and I never use any of them. We have 2 garbage cans. One in the bathroom and one for compostable garbage in the kitchen. The compostable one I use multiple times per day. The one in the bathroom... well, admittedly, I tend to put the garbage on top of it because I almost never use that bathroom, and when I do, it's like, a single Q-tip. There are papers and stuff stacked on the lid, and I've been lazy about cleaning it off so it can actually be used.  He took the garbage out of the other bathroom because I never emptied it, apparently. Because it's solely my responsibility to empty. Obviously.

Then there was a bag of clean laundry, which, being crammed into a bag, I assumed was dirty, so I put the monster's dirty shirt in there, and that earned me a a snappy comment, a sigh and an eyeroll. Like, fuck, just take it out if it's in the wrong place. Or tell me and I'll do it. But this sullen, huffy, the world is over because Mummy put a dirty shirt in the wrong spot shit needs to end (He constantly puts dirty clothes BACK IN THE CLOSET because he thinks that clothes are clean until there's a visible stain. So he'll keep lo in the same clothes for literally days, if I don't change him. Like, bathe him and put him back in the same PJs, and when it comes time to change him into something else, will put the 3-day old PJs in the closet to be worn next time. I've actually pulled clothes with food stuck on them out of the boys' closet a few times).

Hmm, what else did I fuck up today? Apparently I've ruined my Fitbit by not installing the updates that it never asked me to install and now it's broken forever, because that makes total sense. I didn't wash his espresso cups by hand when he was done with them, so he didn't have one ready when he wanted it, and actually had to open the dishwasher, take one out and wash it himself! I know. I'm fucking awful.

I'm sure there's other stuff that I'm forgetting, but don't worry, he'll definitely remind me about it when he gets home from work.

I am REALLY, REALLY not looking forward to spending the holidays with my MIL martyring herself for her kids and husband and Mr. Wolfman thinking this is normal. She doesn't even eat Christmas dinner with the family, she's too busy serving it, and then she eats alone in the kitchen or joins half-way through the meal, eats and then starts tidying while everyone else is still talking.  Which, fine, whatever floats her boat. But that's not me, and if he wanted a doormat housemaid, maybe he should have married one.

*Hurk* (on dating your own kids)

The hobgoblin is obsessed with computer wires, so I was on Pinterest digging for a way to secure them, when I came across this gem: To My Son, Expectations on Dating.  Now I feel queasy.

To start with, the blogger (not the letter writer) refers to her son as her boyfriend. As the mother of two amazing boys, who I fully believe anyone in the (distant) future would be lucky to date, allow me to just say, Ew. I have never understood or been able to get behind this whole, little boys are their mommies' princes or boyfriends, little girls are their daddies' princesses or little ladies thing. People. No. You're not dating or romantically involved with your children. At least, you really, really shouldn't be.  This isn't cute, it's icky*

The letter itself isn't all bad. But whenever I read something for Moms of Boys, I'm almost always disappointed by the way it pigeonholes boys or moms or both. And this was no exception. It starts with a pretty big assumption.

 ...honestly [dating is] the most important thing you will ever do. Because how you date will dictate who you date. And who you date will become your wife. 

At 3 and 8 months, I don't pretend to know my kids' sexualities. Or, really, their gender(s). Or their views on marriage. I mean, yes, most people are cishet, so statistically, the chances are pretty high that my boys will be, too. But I'm not dreaming about their girlfriends and wives and children yet. I'm still getting to know them. I dunno, maybe her kid is older - but it seems a bit presumptive.

The letter goes on with numbered pieces of advice for dating. Number one, I can get behind (if we replace a girl with the person you want to go out with. I agree with it whole-heartedly, but I have to admit that may be generational prejudice.

1. Always ask a girl on a date. Straight forward & direct. AND always ask in person. If that just isn’t possible then ask over the phone. Never, I mean never, ask a girl on a date through a text, instant message, or email.

Number two is already giving me overbearing mom vibes.

2. Always take a girl out on a date. None of this “let’s hang out at my place & watch a movie” nonsense. I expect you to pick her up & take her somewhere. It doesn’t have to be fancy or elaborate or immensely creative. Sometimes the best dates are simple, like a picnic in the park. You should always make sure you take her to a place you know she will feel comfortable & enjoy.

I like the last bit, about taking your date somewhere they'll feel comfortable and enjoy. Beyond that, Mom needs to butt TF out.

3. Open the car door for your date. Open all doors for your date.

Or, you know, don't. How about just, open doors for people? I would feel serious anxiety if I was expected to sit in a car, waiting for my door to be opened. That would honestly spoil the entire date for me.  And for getting into a car - just awkward, especially if the date gets to the car first.

4. Pay for your date. No questions asked. Your father & I will make sure you always have money for your dates. Do not ever split the bill.

This is sexist, classist garbage. I mean, I know it's to her own son, but there's a reason it was published online and why it's being heralded as something all moms should read. So, basically, if you're poor, or you know, your parents have other priorities than paying for your dates, you shouldn't date? Per rule #2, kid isn't supposed to stay home with the girl, right? So if Mom and Dad can't foot the bill, then no getting to know the woman who, per the opening paragraph, might become his wife?

5. Walk to the door to pick up your date. Never text from the car, or worse yet, HONK! And always walk your date to the door at the end of the night.

^^^Agree! Actually, numbers five through sixteen* are all good advice for dating, about making sure your partner is comfortable, kissing the right [person], not getting physical too quickly (it seems to be aimed at when the kid is a younger teenager? So I'm on board with this), telling someone when you're in love, often.  All good stuff to consider throughout dating life.

*Except number 12.

12. Get to know her family & friends and let your family & friends get to know her. Especially Me.

I've never bought into the whole you marry the family thing. Like, no. I married Mr. Wolfman. I did not marry his father or mother or brother. They're nice, and I'm glad that I did get to know them, but knowing them or not has zero to do with our relationship.  And some families (I suspect, including the author's with her Especially Me) can be a bit overwhelming. There's a reason Mr. Wolfman didn't meet my parents until after we were living together.

And then we have... some more sexist nonsense.

17. When the time is right & you’ve found that special someone, get down on one knee & ask her those 4 special words.

This is a touchy one for me, because I proposed to my husband. After discussing our lives together, children, etc. The time being right leaves it open to interpretation, so I'm giving this lady the benefit of the doubt and assuming that she means once the necessary discussions have been had and both parties have agreed, equally, that the time is right. But, even so, WHY is her son the one that's expected to propose? 

My hope for my boys is that, when the time is right, IF marriage is their end goal, that they'll propose - or accept their partner's proposal. Or come to the decision jointly without anyone ever "officially" asking.  Mostly, I just hope they'll be happy.

*To be very clear: parents dancing with their children, holding hands with them, hugging and kissing them, having special one-on-one time, etc. - all great in my mind. The Monster and I have tea parties pretty frequently, with special music, no electronics allowed, and enjoy our tea and biscuits and each other's company. We do not, however, date.