Let me start out by saying, I love my husband. He is extremely hard-working, an excellent provider, and just an overall good person. However, despite his work ethic and good-nature, there are certain things he does that really grind my gears. We’re not perfect, nor do I expect him to be. I just expect him to stop doing the things that get on my last nerves. You know, the things that you have argued about a thousand times, and they still wonder why you’re pissed? I am not going to write this long intro, because I hate when I look up a recipe or something, and the writer gives a two-page history briefing (a story within a story, even though I’m unable to tell a story without a back story), just tell me how to make the damn bundt cake! I don’t need to know how your Nana created the recipe. So, here it is… The list of all the things my husband does (or doesn’t do) that sends me into a homicidal rage (okay, that might be over exaggerated, but you know what I mean):
- Bombards me with a round of 21 questions the very second I wake up in the morning. I’m not exactly a ‘morning person’ and even if I was, I hate questions. I despise being asked a slew of questions in general, especially first thing in the morning. Who does?
- Leaves his beard/mustache clippings all over the bathroom. While he thinks he’s done good because he hasn’t left hair clippings all over the sink, he fails to look at the floor for miniature hair piles. Always. There is always a mess of hair all over the bathroom floor. Do you not feel the tickling sensation on your feet when you clip a strip of facial hair? I can feel that sensation when a single hair strand is dangling from my arm… through two layers of clothing.
- Doesn’t separate the silverware when he loads the dishwasher. Yes, this is a peeve. Why? Because it makes my life that much easier and a lot less of a drag to unload the dishwasher when the silverware is separated. Then, each segment of utensils can be grabbed all at once and put in its proper place in the drawer. Why is this such a difficult concept to comprehend?
- Doesn’t separate the laundry: Whites, darks, and lights. Have you ever went to go look for your favorite floral tank top, and it’s missing? You resort to looking in the dryer, and there it is! Dingy and dull. Stripped from all of its vibrant floral glory. Yep, your husband listened to your cries for help around the house and did the laundry. RUINED! All of it! And you can’t yell at him, because YOU asked him to help, and HE actually listened. This will turn into another one of those arguments about how he “can’t do anything right.”
- Uses the wrong towels for all the wrong situations. Every time I see my husband approaching the towel closet, my whole body tenses. Why? Glad you asked! Because he always grabs a bath/shower towel to clean a mess our dog made on the living room floor. Then, he will grab ‘clean-up’ towels to use for showering. Yes, he knows better. He knows because I have told (yelled) at him about the difference, AND the shelves that hold the different towels in the closet are LABELED! Don’t judge me. I take pride in organization.
- Doesn’t fold anything (clothes, bath towels, dish towels) the way he finds them. Okay, I blame this on Basic Training in the Air Force. I spent hours folding towels, clipping loose strands from my uniform, and making sure the towels and various items were ‘flush’ with my locker shelves. I CAN’T STOP. It drives me crazy because he sees and knows how I like all things folded, and yet he folds them any old messy way and tosses them where he thinks they go. (This is where the questions should be asked), I digress.
- Anything that requires him doing something for our son that has potential to escalate into a tantrum (i.e. putting on shoes or changing a diaper). Anytime I ask him to do something like change a diaper or put shoes on, he takes one look at the item, and says, “You don’t need shoes, Bud” and doesn’t do it. Just friggin’ do it!
- Always manages to dress our son like a Polack clown (I can say that because I’m a Polack!) It drives me crazy when I pick-up my son from his grandparents house, only to find him dressed in army green pants, a red shirt, yellow socks, and blue shoes. Really? What’s the matter? Couldn’t find a purple button-up sweater and a pink hat to match the rainbow? Face palm.
- Always asks ME where something is before looking for it. I find it extremely frustrating to be asked where something is, before attempting to look for the item. Like, can you TRY looking for it FIRST, before you ask me where it is? I know, it’s quite a concept, isn’t it?
- Wakes me up abruptly by loudly repeating my name and poke-shoving me. It always happens at 3:00 a.m. when he’s getting ready for work, or the ONE time a year when I fall asleep in the middle of the day. It’s like his brain decides to malfunction the second I enter my REM cycle. Which, he proceeds to do this poke-shove maneuver, where he pokes you so hard that your whole body starts to roll back and forth. Oh, don’t worry, I wasn’t sleeping or anything. It’s a cardinal rule: Do NOT wake a sleeping mother unless the house is burning down.
- Never tells me about plans with friends or family until the night before or the morning of the function. “By the way, can you make that jalapeno cheese dip thing for the party?” Excuse me? What? Oh, just the party that starts in an hour, and your hair is sopping wet, you have no clothes to wear because Hubbs did the laundry and ruined all of it, remember? Also, you still have to put on your face and get your child ready, so he doesn’t look like that Polack clown we were talking about. C-O-M-M-U-N-I-C-A-T-I-O-N!
- Gets mad when I tell him, “don’t forget…” but then he forgets. How many times does this happen to you? It happens to me every time he goes to the store. Why don’t you just go yourself, you ask? BECAUSE HE ASKED ME, IF I NEEDED HIM TO DO ANYTHING, THAT’S WHY! I tell him what I need, I even offer to write it down, and I always remind him NOT to forget. He gets irritated and sarcastically replies, “Thanks, Mother.” When he gets back, I immediately start looking for the item I specifically sent him out to retrieve. I begin to frantically inspect the shopping bags, and when I don’t see it… Yep! HE FORGOT IT! So, that sarcastic little ass-hat who copped a ‘tude about being his mother, forgot the ONE thing I needed from the store, that HE offered to go to. Thanks, I hope everyone enjoys the Jalapeño Cream Cheese Dip a.k.a the block of cream cheese.
- Doesn’t soak or rinse the baking sheets after using them. Spending my ‘free time’ scrubbing baking sheets is not ideal. When I see the baking sheets left on the stove, all I can think is, “I’m gonna shoot him!” and hope the burned tater-tot remnants come off without damaging the non-stick coating. So, forgive me when I banish the Baking Sheet Bandit from really ruining them the next time he decides to challenge Rachel Ray to a A Great Potato Bake-Off. Pump the brakes, Chef Childs.
- Uses silverware to stir or mix things in our non-stick pots and pans. One of those small things in life that make me feel super happy, is the moment when your omelet slides right out of the pan and on to the plate. I don’t know what that feeling is like anymore, thanks to the food channels and their ability to motivate Sir-Let’s-Deep-Fry-Chocolate Bars, into crafting culinary concoctions and turning my pots and pans into junkyard scraps. Now, all I get is the luxury of scraping the bottom of the so-called-omelet (despite using a pound of butter) from the bottom of the pan, onto the plate. “Scrambled eggs?” He asks. All I can do at this point is give him a dirty look.
- Calls me to ask what I want for lunch or dinner and then says “NO” to my suggestion. Then why are you asking? Is this the male equivalent to us asking our husbands if they want to be included in plans we’re making just to ‘be nice’ and secretly hoping they decline the invitation? If so, I am sorry. I will stop asking.
- NEVER listens to what I tell him or ask him to do, and then when I ask/tell him about it again, he says “you never told me that” or “I don’t remember you asking me that!” Yes, I did. You were folding towels (all wrong) and I told you that our child’s pre-school asked to bring cupcakes on Friday for the bake sale, and you said, “I’ll just grab those fudge brownies from the store that I bought last time, on my way home from work.” Shocker, when his selective amnesia kicks in and suddenly doesn’t remember. Does anyone listen to me, ever?
- Obsessed with timing, “what time are they coming over?” “What time will you get back?” “How long is that going to take?” But when I ask him a question in regards to time, like, “how long has the baby been sleeping?” Coincidentally, if you ask him what time Notre Dame plays, he’s on it like a fat kid on cake.
- Doesn’t think Will & Grace is funny. By the way, it’s my FAVORITE sitcom ever, and had I known this tidbit, I may have reconsidered saying “I Do!” Seriously though, who doesn’t think Will & Grace is funny. I would like a separate email listing your reasons.
- Doesn’t understand ‘stories within stories’; and that in order for me to tell one story, a back story must be told to understand the current story. He also doesn’t understand what it’s like to have ADHD. If you know someone with this condition, you know they are notorious topic hoppers. My apologies… it’s tough for us, too!
- Closes all doors and cabinets in our home, by slamming them shut while our toddler is napping or has just been put down for a nap. And then gets irritated when I angrily yell “SHHH!” Hey, Hulk, can you not rip the fridge door hinge when you “close” it after getting some cheese?
Yep, that will do it, gentlemen. You want to send your wife into the arms of two nurses holding each end of a straight-jacket and another nurse holding a cocktail of sedatives? Guaranteed, one or more of the things listed above will do it. Like I always tell my husband, “Your life would be so much easier if you just listened to me.” We’re not expecting you to be perfect, we just expect you to listen.