Helping out? Or just doing my part?

Why does it feel like I'm helping hubby when I work in the basement? After all, it is my basement too. But somehow it feels like it is his project to finish the basement and any work that I do is voluntary. I expect a "oh honey, that was so nice of you. I really appreciate it" response when I clean up down there.

I tried to flip that around to see if I could justify that position in the reverse. Does hubby feel like he is helping me with housework instead of just contributing to the overall effort? Am I okay with it if that is how he feels? I've always expected him to help out, especially if I'm running around like a chicken with my head cut off because people are coming over. I think it would irritate me if he refused to help and said something stupid like "that's your job", but I'm not sure I care if he is helping and his motivation is to make life easier for me...or if he wants to make me feel loved and supported by his effort. That seems okay...probably because I accept the primary role in the housework. Now that would be a different story if we are talking about taking care of the kids...but that would be a digression. Back to my "helping in the basement" post.

Here are a few pictures of our project, so you all can see my hubby's fabulous skills. First is my stairs. We call them "Lisa's stairs" because hubby doesn't see the attraction to wood stairs. After all, they cost more, are harder to put in, and are more slippery for people to walk on. But, as anyone who takes the primary housework role will tell you, vacuuming stairs is a PAIN. I think they are beautiful!


The following picture is the new family room, which is mainly designed to be a man cave for hubby. I'm sure it will also double as a place to send the kids during social events (assuming the men aren't using it) or a primo sleepover location. Do you like my new green accent wall?


The last picture is our new hobby room. Hubby built this room so we'd have a place to leave out our hobby's while they are "in progress". We've both learned from experience that you can't leave something laying around and expect the toddlers not to touch it when you aren't looking. The big question is "Can fishing stuff (fly tying, rod building, etc.) live side by side with sewing (quilting, mending, etc.)?"


Looking forward to your comments! (so leave me one, will ya?)

Punk Kids

While in the car yesterday, Hot Daddy was telling me about some punk kids that were fooling around on the road. They were passing each other on curves, racing up and then slowing down, and generally trying to kill them selves and any other unlucky people in cars. At the end of his story he got quiet for a second and then said, mostly to himself, "I wonder when they became punk kids".

I know he wasn't wondering at what age those boys became miscreants, but rather at what age he began to see them as miscreants instead of his compatriots.

I laughed a little bit at him, but I think the answer is "when he got smart enough to really see the possible outcome to their antics." When we got married, it was definitely the back of the bus kid marrying the front of the bus kid. He liked to misbehave, I liked to behave. He and his friends suped up cars, skipped school, and misappropriated their parent's alcohol. I think I glorified his pre-me lifestyle. I thought his antics made great stories. Now...not so much.

Now defacing park benches seems like a waste of taxpayer money and a financial burden on parks that are already facing closure. Now reving engines on the street seems like noise pollution and makes me fear for the little children that might dart out. Now wrecking a restored 914 by taking a corner too fast and driving it into the rail seems like a ridiculous waste of time, money, and behavior that doesn't take into account the suffering one's family will endure if you are hurt.

Now the quippy little sayings, like "you can look but you can't touch" and "it doesn't hurt to get your appetite out as long as you remember to eat in", aren't funny in the face of the never-ending stream of broken marriages. I'm so tired of telling hubby that "so and so is getting a divorce".

I guess the good news is that Hot Daddy shares my perspective and gave up all his bad-boy behavior while he was dating me (with the exception of the motorcycle). Hmm. Now that I think of it, perhaps those teenagers became "punk kids" when he began to see them through my eyes.

Now it is time to go do the dishes. Ughhh.

Well, hubby's birthday on Thursday went great. I was exhausted by the end after catering to the guy all stinkin' day. =) Vanilla French Toast in the morning, Steak Oscars in the evening, Strawberry shortcake for dessert. Presents, Presents, Presents. Bringing him coffee, snacks throughout the day, cleaning out his closet. Exhausting...but he seemed to love it.

Today it is my other "baby's" birthday. My Big Guy. Hard to believe my baby is 2 years old, although I'm glad for it. I think I may have enjoyed more of those "baby moments" with him than with the girls because I knew he was going to be my last baby, but the cold hard truth is still that the baby stage isn't my favorite. I'm so glad he's becoming a kid. Soon I'll be able to have real conversations with him.

It is funny how I'm always complaining that there is always too many people trying to talk to me at once, but I look forward to when the Big Guy can join the fray. That makes no sense.

I have a family get together planned for 4 pm today. We'll be celebrating the Big Guy's birthday, his Daddy's birthday, and his Aunt Tory's. Luckily it will be held at Mom's house, so I don't have to clean mine to get ready for it. I do need to get the food organized, but Dad volunteered to run to Costco this morning...so that will be a huge help. I'm supposed to go to a bridal shower this morning too, but the Big Guy was throwing up last night so I'm not sure how that will work out.

Wow, this is a fascinating post. It turned into more of a list of what I need to do today than a blog post. How self-indulgent of me.

Happy Saturday everyone.