... he's a fucking BEAR when he's sick.
Last week I caught something that gave me a sore throat, fuzzy head, headache, and a bad attitude. It wasn't horrible, but it wasn't fun. Anthony came home early on Wednesday night and made dinner and cleaned up and washed and put down Hollis that night. The next day, I was 10x worse, but I decided I could handle it and sent Anthony to work. I was miserable chasing after Hollis and trying to keep up the house, but I did it. Feeling sorry for myself and all. I got over it by Saturday and life went on with nary a blip in the functioning of the household. Then Anthony got it.
Since Anthony's option of calling in sick is a lot more feasible than it is for me, he chose to stay home from work on Monday and Tuesday to rest and do a little work from home.
He expected, to actually be able to lay around anywhere in the house and not be disturbed and just "be sick."
Late in the afternoon on Tuesday, while Hollis was fighting his afternoon nap with intermittent, pissed crying, Anthony comes stomping out to the living room from our bedroom where he'd been on a conference call. I could tell something wasn't right because he was shooting me down with Death Rays from his eyes. I knew I was in trouble somehow.
With mouth snarling, hair sticking out every which way, and a foreboding five o'clock shadow he grumbles, "This is the worst 2 days I've ever had being sick," as if it were my fault.
Of course, I didn't take to this very kindly since I thought I'd been doing a fine job of taking care of his don't-make-me-take-pills-until-I'm-damn-good-and-ready ass, plus, I'd been ignoring him per our agreement for when he works from home (I'm not allowed to ask him to do anything or watch Hollis, which I find to be perfectly fair. He is working, after all). But, no. I had asked him to "sorta" keep an eye on Hollis as he ran around the house and I was trying to catch up on some work on the computer. I had also given Hollis to him while he attempted to nap on the living room couch because Hollis was so excited to discover him there. And - gasp - I was "letting" Hollis cry, unattended in his room and, Anthony claimed, that this crying was the direct cause of his unbearable headache and why didn't I "just let him run around for a while?"
In any case, I was not doing a good job of taking care of my husband. According to Anthony, anyway.
I started to say about 8 different things at once. I wanted to smack him, tell him to stop being such a big baby, and to suck it up because that's what I had to do. I did manage to say something about "letting Hollis cry," because that really pushed a hot button for me, but it was useless. Anthony was a goner. He didn't want to hear me say, "I know Hollis is exhausted and he'll be asleep very soon. If I let him run around he'll never nap." Nor did he want to hear, "I do this all the time, Anthony, with you gone. Why would I suddenly change my style just because you're here?? I KNOW he'll be asleep soon and just needs to be left alone for 5 minutes." The fact that Hollis was dead asleep in exactly 5 minutes spoke loud enough in the end.
And then, instead of following that mean little rabbit down its argument-laden trail it all at once it hit me like a ton of bricks that maybe for Anthony the past two days really had sucked beyond compare. That this was another life adjustment to our new family dynamics and he was being caught off guard. Had he felt better, I bet he'd had more patience with both me and Hollis. Obviously, there wouldn't have been a problem then, but I could extend him the benefit of the doubt that he was feeling like shit and therefore had about *this* much extra energy to tell himself I wasn't out to get him or run him into the ground with parenting demands.
True to his nature, he apologized later. And it's never a weenie, please don't be mad at me apology, either. It's genuine. He's the first person who's EVER apologized to me and really meant it and I can say it's one of the reasons I married him. If he ever acts poorly he always reflects on it and says, "Jess, I'm sorry for being a dick. I don't know why I said/did that." Bad behavior from him is rare in the first place, but it's consoling during a rough interaction to know that he'll be aware of his actions at some point in the future and we can talk about them.
And I want to be very clear here: I am not perfect. But this is mainly my blog, so, you know. He's more than welcome to post about me being ridiculous any time. I can take it!
I just found it funny in a stunned, sort-of-humorous way, that Anthony would make such a big deal out of his cold. I don't want to throw him under the bus, but come on! - Oops, that sorta is throwing him under the bus. - I'm sorry, I really am. Anthony is awesome, wonderful, sweet, thoughtful, dead sexy, handsome, and wicked smart. But his kryptonite happens to be his new life when all he wants to do is rest and sleep as if he were single and blissfully alone again. What I wouldn't have given to have those three days last week to just lay in bed and watch TV instead of cooking, cleaning, running errands, and taking care of Hollis.
Isn't that the crux of all of this?? He complained about what I didn't complain about and I'm disgruntled that he thought he had the right to complain in the first place. Of course the man has a right to complain! I did, too. It's my fault that I didn't and it's a good place to give more attention to because the last thing I want to become is a martyr and a "mom can do anything anytime under any circumstances" kind of mom. I want everyone around me to rely on me and be confident in my abilities, but to also lend a hand when I need it (even if I don't come right out and ask for it every time).
Having kids changes everything. Even things you might not expect. Like staying home from work sick. I hope Anthony doesn't opt to go into the office next time, hoping for a cozy, quiet spot under his desk instead of the dull roar of chaos at our house. I promise to be a little more sensitive to a sick man's need for solitude and a soft pillow. I promise!