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Honey is Sweet

Decisions, decisions - 2006-11-11

I'm grateful for: Lost diaryland entries; warm November nights; knowing we can't afford a composting toilet (and so avoiding wasting time and energy thinking of it).

Hello there. I've made a bit of a decision, following not quite transparently on the understanding that I just cannot live with Neil the way he is, which is that I could no longer live with myself the way I was. I hope it's a was, but these things have a way of coming back to one. Recurring as it were. Biting one in the ass, really.

So what is it, what am I changing? I, at least for today, made a supreme effort to only do what I wanted to do - and what presumably Hashem wanted me to do. None of the things that I *should* myself into doing. NOT making an effort to answer email or write a diary entry or read my email or anything at all that is that much of an effort.

It's hard to say how successful this will be as a life-style choice, but for this one day it worked just about fine. I played some Kingdom of Loathing, read a fair amount in Eight Bells and All's Well (very funny anecdotes about getting the U-505 submarine to the Museum of Science and Industry in Chicago), finished a 1000 piece jigsaw puzzle with the kids, heard a fair amount of Animorphs read aloud (*sigh*) was bitchy to my husband, managed to copy a fair amount from audio tape onto my computer, made progress knitting the mohair blanket for Malki's daughter which I just might finish before she turns two (although it's looking unlikely). I did not attend a telephone conference meeting that I had said I would, I ate badly (not too badly, but a lot of oreo-like cookies and other sugar junk), watched an episode of Waiting For Gd and didn't allow anyone to eat popcorn from out of my bowl, washed dishes, wiped counters and table-tops, and generally had a fine day.

I'm sorry about being bitchy to my husband, but I don't yet have any answer for it. He is an over-grown child, ridiculously so. If I were able-bodied I'd be like any other wife complaining about her six-year-old-in-a-forty-year-old-body husband. But I'm not. I am disabled. I cannot do the things that need to be done in order to keep a household of eight people clean enough to be reasonably healthy, running smoothly, with edible food, wearable clothes, and sufficient activities that we don't all kill each other. The problem is, he doesn't do them either.

Tonight's latest relates to me stating (about a week ago) that since the kitchen in the new house is incredibly small (think a small walk-in closet) there simply will not be room for dishes to accumulate there, dirty or clean, and so they will have to be washed, dried and put away as soon as used - preferably by whoever used them. I pointed this out to all reasoning members of the family. AND to John and Neil. Everyone agreed to this concept as an idea, and I 'suggested,' STRONGLY, that we put this into action immediately so that by the time we move into the new house (in less than three weeks) we will established enough of a habit to keep on with. This is really important, because if we get behind in that kitchen, we may never be able to clear it up.

We are also dispensing with all fleishig (meat) dishes - I will eat cold meat sandwiches, eat out, or eat off of paper plates. There is only one sink, and not enough room for all the dairy dishes, forget about having two sets.

So I pointed out, when we started, that John would be the one most likely to fail to keep up with this new regime. So it wasn't a surprize to find dirty dishes in and around the sink and clean dishes sitting in the drainage rack (rather than dried and put away) last night and tonight. Oh, and of course I'd already had to speak to Neil, a couple of nights previously as he headed off to bed leaving a dirty dish by the sink. I mean, one dish. It is so hard to clean one dish? Speaking of which, he didn't. He wandered over to the sink. Stood there for a few moments letting the water run (but not until it was actually hot), and tossed the glass in the drainage rack and left it there. But by the time I got over there he'd gone to bed and there was just no point in chasing him down over it. Still isn't.

So tonight I let John have it. If anyone knows of some way to talk to the man without being irritated, angry, sarcastic or just plain mean I would love to know about it. The problem is, I have tried reasoning with him. I have tried logic, and sense, and calm discussion. I've also tried screaming at him and throwing furniture at his head. I've used 'feminine wiles' (also known as guilt-trips), and appealed to his better nature, appealed to his baser nature (if you do this then we won't have to have these fights anymore, I won't be hitting you or calling you foul names, I'll give you rewards, and so on). There is nothing, absolutely nothing, that will cause him to change one tiniest iota of his behaviour. It doesn't matter that he is endangering his children, or causing himself more work, or wasting huge amounts of time and money (neither of which we have in abundance), or that sometimes I Hate him, or that he is making himself miserable. He has his heels dug in and nothing, absolutely nothing is going to reach him. He has decided.

So tonight, with a coffee cup not only dirty, but still half full of coffee sitting in the dish pan, not to mention two popcorn bowls, the dish he used to melt the butter for the popcorn, the knife he used to cut off some butter, and a handful of other not so neatly identifiable dirty dishes (but most likely all from him) sitting in the sink, I was sarcastic, nasty, angry, and logical at him. All at once. Because, you know, if I hadn't had that half-ful coffee cup there, I probably would have just washed the dishes and let it go. So I pointed out to him that if he'd just washed the one cup then he'd have been spared having to hear me lecture. I inferred that he was less mature and responsible than his 16-year-old son (true), and flat out stated that he was a selfish, irresponsible git. I wasn't even in fine form. I was too tired to give it to him really well.

And, all he has to say for himself is he'd figured he'd leave it 'til the morning. Clearly, rules (that he has agreed to) do not apply to him. Actually any rules at all don't apply to him. Which is why he gets moving violations every second or third month (okay, the last one was a parking ticket), and any attempt to create even the smallest amount of order in the house is immediately overset - within hours. Not even days.

I find myself in this difficult situation, now, the children are all pretty much old enough to see exactly what he is and what he does. I still want them to address him respectfully - because that's the kind of children I want to have, not because he has in any way done anything deserving of their respect. But what can I say when one child asks him to do something for them, then immediately adds, of course you won't get to it for weeks. It's the truth. And if something needs to be repaired, it is put on his desk knowing it will most likely never be seen again. At least by us.

But I don't want my children addressing their father as an errant and disagreeable child. At least not in front of anyone. Even though that is entirely what he is.

I don't know if I've mentioned it here, but he's taken to telling me I'm the best thing that ever happened to him. I wonder who suggested it? He surely didn't come up with that idea on his own. And at intervals - every few days or so, unconnected to anything else that might be going on - he repeats his sentence again. So, maybe if he does this long enough he'll believe it? Maybe if he starts to believe it, he might, maybe, once-in-a-great-while start to act like it? Heh. I am not holding my breath. But at least it is something new. Something that is a genuine change from everything that's gone before. He doesn't even hurt me when he says it. No how strange is that?

You know, I think it is really not possible to love a man as mean and as broken as he is. Sometimes I forget and start with the stories convincing myself that he really is a sweet, loving person underneath all the bullshit and that things are changing for the better and I can afford to let my guard down and be nice to him. And then he reminds me. Oh, okay. He's broken. Or a nasty, slimy piece of work as selfish as the day is long. I'm opting for the broken option. Since I have to live with him, it's better not to hate him. Even if he is hateful.

On a more positive note (heh). I am going to inform Neil that he cannot live with us any longer. I don't know what the choices are, but I do have the option of renting him a room in the cottage (when it is habitable), and having him live there as a tenant, or a roommate. I also have the option of telling him he really cannot stay with us at all and giving him a deadline to move out. What is not an option is having him continue to live with us as he has. He has clearly chosen to remain separate from the family, to isolate and to be apart from, rather than a part of. And out family cannot tolerate that sort of alien presence. We are too close, too intimate, we do almost everything together (not all of us necessarily to everything, but subsets of the family). We are close and close-knit.

I understand that it might be difficult for someone to come into this family and adjust to the way we are, but Neil isn't coming from outside for heaven's sake. He lived with us in Warren for three years, and is Family, if not a part of the immediate family. He knew perfectly well what he was getting into when he came here. He could always have rented a room on the yeshuv and been close without living in the same house. He has sufficient income, certainly, to afford to live comfortably here with a roommate, or even possibly on his own. Which all adds up to he has no excuse for choosing to live with us, and so far from making any effort to merge into the family putting up walls which make it harder for us to function as we normally do. So. He has to go.

My main hope is that John can get the cottage habitable really quickly (like almost immediately) and I can insist he stay there. At least until we come to a new understanding. There is no water (no toilet or sink), no kitchen. He would still be in and out of the house, in our faces. But he would have no choice but to change his behaviour - for instance, he couldn't sneak into the shower just as Havva has finished heating the water for her shower. As he has done numerous times already. And he couldn't cause as much havoc with the laundry if he's not even in the house. He could still cause havoc, it would just be harder for him. And, barukh Hashem, his awful plastic chair would be out of my house. I really look forward to the day.

So.

I've been having a good time. I like that I can change my attitude and my life improves immediately - even if nothing else has changed. I'm sorry that my change of attitude includes being more harsh to and about John and Neil, but that is not my doing. No one forces them to be the selfish, thoughtless, inconsiderate and irresponsible prigs that they are. Oh, yes, prigs. Each of them is utterly convinced of his superiority over me. And of course that each can write off whatever I say or do thereby. And that is NOT just a man thing. It is quite possible that most men might do that to some degree, but not to the degree these two carry it.

But the point is, as long as they remain impossible, it is my responsibility to my kids and to myself to tolerate as little bullshit from each of them as I can manage - not try to spare their feelings, not try to be 'nice' about it, not try to avoid unpleasantness. I owe it to my kids and to myself. If I was even ten years younger I would probably just take the kids myself, and tell the two of them to stay the hell away. We could manage to live on my disability somehow I am sure - especially with the hugely reduced costs we should have in the new moshav.

Or maybe not. Because ten years ago I did try to get out. Repeatedly. It just hasn't been meant to be. *sigh*

Anyway, I am going to try and get some sleep. It's about twenty to one in the morning. I'd like to wake up at some decent hour of the morning, having had a reasonable amount of sleep. I'd really like that. I hope Hashem is listening.

I'm listening to Neil hacking and coughing and honking. It would be funny if I weren't so bloody tired of it

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:: Yesterdays : Tomorrows ::

~~~Last Five Entries~~~
Hi and goodbye - 2010-10-15
I'll be moving on - 2010-10-10
Gold membership and stuff - 2010-10-10
Decisions, decisions - 2010-10-07
Days to go - 2010-10-06