It’s been rather an angry day all round at this end of the internet. Neff and I both showed the darker side of our characters and (at various points) had tantrums about the happenings of the day. He’s 5. I’m
rapidly approaching 30. He has an excuse, I’m not so sure about myself.
I had to get some last minute shopping this morning, before Niece’s 3rd birthday party. It’s my MIL’s birthday soon, so Husby and I were going to brave the snow together, find a present to send to Ireland and do the shopping. We got up and had breakfast in ample time, then (as is too often the case, thanks to his condition) he didn’t feel able to complete the ‘getting up’ to the point of washing or dressing. So he had a nap. He agreed half an hour so that we could go at 11.
11’o’clock and I returned to find him still snoozing away merrily.
I took my alarm clock, set it to 11 and let rip. I stood over him, holding the beeping alarm with an expression of disgust on my face so that when he awoke, he’d understand that I was Not Happy with him. At all.
He looked at me blearily and asked the time. I explained that I would now have to go shopping myself as we were due to the party at midday and could he PLEASE be up and ready by the time I got back. He agreed and I stomped off in the left-over snow (have you tried stomping in half-frozen snow? It’s tough going) to do the shopping, but NOT his Mum’s birthday present.
When I returned (hot, sticky and still grumpy) I discovered Husby
had taken on board that I already felt let down by him and had gotten up and was ready to go was still in bed.
To say my wrath poured like a falling glacier upon his sleepy head would be an understatement. Never mind the cold shoulder; he got the full force of my best ‘deep freeze’ (exacerbated by him asking “Why are you upset?”) as I wrapped Niece’s presents and gathered together the bits and pieces we needed to take with us. Late.
I sent an apologetic text to my Mum (who was hosting) and waited in the icy garden, trying to cool off. When Husby was ready, I stalked off ahead of him down the road until he caught up and asked yet again what was wrong.
With a frustrating and further-anger-inducing lack of coherence, I finally managed to get across that
- He’d let me down twice so far this morning and I was hurt and upset by that
- I understood that the reason he hadn’t got up is because he is ill, but I felt that his attitude to his condition was too passive and he’d managed on occasions where the thing which needed to be done was held in more importance by him
- I fully expected my family to be very accepting and dismissive of it (as always, because they’re great like that), as though it didn’t matter, and it mattered a lot to me and I felt like each time this situation occurred, I ended up the villain of the piece
He eventually managed to make sense of what I was trying to tell him and apologised and agreed that I did have reason to get upset and to feel that it did matter without being villainous. As he humbly said all this and managed to gently and lovingly acknowledge my feelings I felt like the biggest villain going.
Neff, on the other hand, had tantrums at the party because he couldn’t win every round of pass the parcel. He’s 5. Winning is THE MOST AWESOME THING EVER and losing is soul-destroying. At least one of us is acting our age.