Why Can't My Husband Think Ahead?

Is it really difficult to think about what might happen in the future?  I mean, Harold Camping had the foresight to think that if the rapture didn't happen on May 21st, then how would he go about keeping the money that people had given him?  "Oh, we'll just move this rapture thing back a few months," he thought.  Simple.  If a fucking crazy idiot like Harold can do it, then my intelligent and young husband can do the same.  Well, SHOULD be able.

I'm allowed to rant, so if you seriously do not want to hear this, then you may move on.  You get a 'get out of jail free' card, to use the over-used monopoly expression.

This week has been a truly crazy week.  My online blanket business - sewchem.etsy.com - has consistently gotten at least one sale a day for this month (which I think is pretty awesome!), so on top of trying to keep the house relatively clean and the laundry at least washed and dried, I'm trying to do at least three blankets per night.  Now let's throw into the mix my favorite (and only) girly nurse cousin, Lindsay, coming home after being away for 8 months in Washington at a military base, her bachelorette party, and her wedding this Saturday (four hours away!).

Knowing how nuts this week was going to be, I set out a schedule of things that needed to be accomplished by Friday morning when we would leave for the wedding.  Blankets until Wednesday, bachelorette party Thursday and pack after that.  I offered to be the DD for the Bach. party, so I needed to clean out  my van.  Hubby owes me a favor so I ask him to clean it out Wednesday night after the coming-home party.  Note: I sent a text Wednesday and I asked him *straight to his FACE* if he would do it for me that SAME night. 

He didn't do it. 

I bought him a phone Wednesday so that he would stop complaining about it his current one and he had to look up every single YouTube video about how to work his new cell phone (he doesn't have it yet, mind you).  I cleaned out the van on my lunch hour the following day and did not get to eat.  So, yes, I'm a bit beyond pissed at this point.

I send him a text and the convo goes as follows (I don't use proper punctuation when I'm upset):

Me: Thanks for cleaning out the van last night
Him: Really.  I am doing it tonight.
Me: I asked you to do it last night
Him:  We were at your freaking mom's until after nine.  I didn't feel like vacuuming the car in the dark with all of the bugs eating me alive.
M: That is ok.  I did it during my lunch hour and didn't get to eat
H: Well that is your fault. Sorry I didn't do it late last night. I was going to do it today after work.  Thanks for being patient.

OH MY FUCKING GOD.  If it was legal to kill my husband, I would so fucking do it at this point. I was livid.  Livid!  I wanted to go Kung Fu Panda on his testicles and shove a pineapple up his ass.  Then throw him into a pit of hyenas after cutting his wrists with razor blades.  Have you ever felt that kind of anger and hatred towards someone that you're supposed to love?  No? Just me.  Ok then.

Apparently, he had forgotten that I was DD.  If I had just reminded him (a third time), he would have done it. 

And then, to top it all off, we didn't get home from the bachelorette party until after midnight.  I still have to pack the kids' clothes and steam my dress for the wedding.  Guess who's asleep on the couch with the TV still on and NONE OF HIS CLOTHES PACKED?  Could it be my husband?  Could it be that he didn't think ahead to the weekend where he would need clothes and shoes and toiletries and all of that good stuff when we would be 400 miles from our house?  I had to work at 7 in the morning and wouldn't have time to pack or do anything because I was leaving straight from work to go to the wedding city.  It had to be done that night.

He called me irrational for being upset because I didn't tell him to do it.  I didn't tell him to pack his clothes for the weekend that we would be away.

If I'm in prison for the next few lifetimes, you'll understand why.

Men, I know you hate when women nag at you to do things.  That's why I made a vow to never do that to my husband.  I did not want to be the nagging wife.  Yet, if I don't, he'll never get anything done or accomplish anything that doesn't involve his motorcycle, mowing the lawn, or organizing his workshop.  How do I approach him to do the things that need to get done?  I've had this conversation/argument with him before.  I've asked him nicely to do things and it works for a few days but continually slopes back to where he does nothing.  I'm tired.  I can't do it.  I have to make a list of things for him to do and I don't want to.  Why can't he just KNOW what needs to be done? 

Strength, Motivation, Whatever

I am constantly finding that each situation that has been thrown my way is exhausting and makes me want to hit my head against the wall.  I love my kids, but they are a lot of work.  Especially at this age.  Xander only wants his mommy to hold him...and only him....that means, no Lilly.  And she's nine months old!  How can I not hold her.  It's how she moves and gets around.  Where is hubby during all of this?  Throwing up.  How am I - the one that got puked on four times - not trying to force my stomach up through my esophagus, when he's the one that handed me the child that sounded like he was going to puke?  Huh?  How did that work?  I am thankful that I'm not the one who is sick.  Because guess who would still be doing the childcare, cooking, and general everything?  Moi.  C'est la vie.  I married a man that loves to work hard...at work.  Not so much anywhere else.  And he's not a bad father by any measure!  I go to work super early and he wakes up with the kids (most mornings) to get them dressed and off to the sitter's.  I pick them up after work, cook dinner, clean up after dinner, bathe the kiddos, do the dishwasher, put the kids to bed, and then clean.  Occasionally, hubby helps and I love him again.  Every once in a blue moon a while, I get to knit another row of Lilly's slippers that I have been working on for six months.

How does one stay sane?  I feel like I am constantly grasping for energy, pulling for some piece of life that will get me through the next thirty minutes.  Dammit and the bills are due!  That's right, I am the family accountant. 

What does my husband do, you ask? Good question!  Let me tell thee.  When he comes home from work, after dinner, he sits down to eat his plate that I have prepared for him.  After which, I clean up.  He then changes from his work clothes into his pajamas and sits on the couch or the nice chair in front of the computer.  While either watching television or checking FB, he might hold Lil for a moment while I (attempt to) change Xander's diaper.  Xander then roams free while I attend to Lil. 

Yes, I have talked to my lazy husband.  Yes, he has admitted that he has a problem.  Somehow, though, he gets stuck on step two and does an epic fail and retrograde into retardedness.  La da di, I did something right for two days and now it's time to return to the days when I did nothing right.  And so, the endless cycle of love then hate then love happens. 

If it is not that obvious, I am in the hate you stage right now.  When he stops throwing up and I can sleep in the same bed, I might love him again. 

This is my dumb dumb dog, Bubba.  No, I did not name him.  Yes, he is licking the window.