Wednesday, September 29, 2010
I'm an @$$hole...also titled: Jason is the Most Patient Man on the Planet
So now, I have an audience of 6 (yes, I'm including myself & my Mom). Woohoo!!! Sooo...my dear, much appreciated fan club, I want to share with you a warning. I can be a real pain in the patootie. Almost everyone in my life thinks of me as a very loving, encouraging person; and, I do try. Really. I swear. But once I get home; not so much. :(
Last night, after getting home and writing down the thoughts of the day regarding bacon (& Jesus), my daughter plays messenger and brings me a card. A greeting card. From Jason. *sigh* It was one of those really sweet, long written out "I love every day with you...even the ones where you're a total shit" type cards. (Thank you Blue Mountain.)
It should be noted here, that I had piano lessons after work last night (lessons that Jason encouraged me to take, because I'd always wanted to) so Jason picked up the kids (proactively, without having to be reminded or asked) and took them to Blockbuster to pick out some new movies (again, he's freakin' awesome) and then home for dinner, baths & helped Elena with ALL of her math homework for the week. (YES! I KNOW HOW AMAZING HE IS. SHUT UP!!!!)
So, Saint Jason (as I'm heretoforth labeling him) was sitting on the couch when I got home (after feeding, cleaning, helping & playing with my kids so I could go play) and the first thing out of my mouth when I walk in the door is:
"Good Lord it stinks in here!"
No, not "Hi, babe!" or "Wow, you didn't kill the kids!" but an instant, unsolicited bitchfest. And it got better...oh yes. Because AFTER I got my sweet and unprompted card (no birthday or anniversary or death in the fam) I went to bed raging like Mommy Dearest in a room full of wire hangers.
Yay me! I'm now the poster child for why good men leave crazy women. (No, he didn't leave...THANK GOD!)
Today began with me praying that I'll be able to keep him long enough for the meds to kick in (mine, not his). Jason put it this way...
"I know you WANT to be happy and enjoy it when you slip it in, but it's like your brain's default position is to 'goalie' trying to block the 'happy' ball from scoring."
He's right, y'all. Whether it's chemical, circumstancial or sleep deprivation...something's got to give. Otherwise...I'm just gifting a Superfriend & Superpartner right back into the universe, right along with all the benefits that he brings to my life...like the "happy ball".