In a couple of days, Eric, who is still blogless (pressure people, keep up the pressure), will safely arrive home.
And even though he will have to deal with a bit of Jet-Lag and some general readjustment to the insanity I call reality, I thought I would offer him "The Rules" - to ensure a peaceful and calm transition.
You see folks, not that I am airing out our dirty laundry or anything, Eric and I usually have some sort of tiff within 48 hours of his arrival home. Although I cannot speak for what happens in the deep chasms of his fathomless mind, I can say, that I like being the only one calling the shots around here. You'd think that after 8 years of marriage I would have become accustomed to the cohabitation thing. Secretly I like being by myself. And Eric can conjure up all the nightmare scenarios he'd like about strange men coming over to visit...I would not interrupt my solice even for a surprise visit from Johnny Depp....well on second thought...
I like leaving my clothes right where I left them without dealing with any repercussions. And I don't have to concern myself with another mouth to feed and feel all bitter that no one ever cooks for me (Ouch!). And the laundry. I can let it go and pile up to whatever size I fancy without having to hear one iota of displeasure. Not seeing little black facial hairs in the sink has been awful nice too.
Yes, there are certain things that are definately missing - not having to clean up vomit all by myself being one obvious thing, plus all the nice little things like a happy hello around 4:30 every afternoon and someone reminding me how screwed up and inane the Bush Administration really is. I have no idea whats been happening on Cursor or Buzzflash. And its nice to get in the Van and see the gas gauge back at F and someone bringing me a piping hot Tims on Saturday morning. (And by the way darling, I am have returned to the One sugar two cream. None of this sugar twin business anymore.)
So, I thought I'd offer you some simple little rules, that you can follow my dear, to help avoid that readjustment stress and prevent any unnecessary maritial strife.
Rule #1. Watch your mouth. Living with 1000 men over the past month has altered what you understand to be accepable language. You should edit your "Fucking eh's" with "Holy Cows", your "Shit!" with "Aww shucks" or a discressionary "poop!". We "go to the bathroom" around here...not "take a dump," "have a crap" or "cut a brown puppy" "take a leak" or "have a piss"
Rule #2. My name is Heather. I am not "the woman" "the boss" "the wife" or the "niner domestic".
Rule #3. Beer is to be consumed after 5pm. Even on Saturdays. (heh heh)
Rule #4. No animalistic or cavemanesque noises. Ever. Unless we are playing "can you guess what sentient being I am", or if you are replaying what you saw on wild kingdom in a deeply intellectual conversation.
Rule #5. If its not cleaned up, it means I have not gotten around to it yet. In the wild world of multi-tasking, one needs to prioritize. That pile over there just did not make it in the top 10 of the 50 things I need to get done. This does not mean that said pile will be ignored indefinatley.
Rule #6. If you feel the need to complain about the state of the house, whisper it to yourself and move along.
Rule 6 Clause 1. The basement is an a total state of disarray. Deal. Conjure a worst case scenario and you should be well prepared.
Rule #7. Learn how to cook. I have cookbooks that can aid in that transition. And no, macaroni and tomatoe juice delight does not count. Neither does toast. Or McDonalds.
Rule #8. You can say "no" to the kids. They will still love you despite not getting the super mega mammoth chocolate bar. And time outs work too. You should try them.
Rule #9. The radio stays on CBC. Period.
Rule #10. Please. Arrange a sitter and take me out for dinner. I'll be nice. Or I won't if thats what floats your boat.
There I keep it at a nice even 10. That should not be too hard to forget will it? And I hold the right to amend any, if not all the rules.
Signed
Me.
Three Years
1 year ago
7 comments:
That was highly informative!
Thoroughly reasonable!
The little black facial hairs in the sink have a way of hiding or growing back... because I swear I wiped them all up before I left the room.
You are so funny.
Why is it that sometimes it is easier to be the parent when you are THE parent, and NOT part of a team?
And Wade and I will also fight within the first two days of either of us returning from somewhere else. Go figure.
Eric: GET A SITTER NOW. Really, dude, do it. Now.
Great list! If all else fails...hire a cleaning lady and let the kids tell him about it. That's what happened here :-)
Hope the adjustment period goes well.
One of my own rules is never to interfere between 2 partners. But I'm glad to make an exception here if it helps.
Heather - so true! There's no need for swearing. What's wrong with having a jobbie or a wee-wee? Is "Scheisse" acceptable? Or only if one is German?
Eric - If you use Lee Ann's
magic clock, you'll discover that it's always 5pm, or beer o'clock as we call it, somewhere on the planet.
Buy another radio and twiddle the dial as much as you like.
If you want to learn to cook, there are some splendid recipes over at doviko's.
With the kid who lives here, I find it helps to say nothing at all to him, and he respects me for it. But he's 17, and that may not work so well with three youngsters, unless you wear noise-blockers.
This advice is offered totally free of charge. Feel free to ask for more, or consult hotboy.
I think I published my rules a day late....notice who did NOT read them - I sense that he may be doing things (like preparting to come home) and not poking around my blog.
And a short message for Rob, my mother has not been reading my blog lately. I did mention was I had written about lately, and she said that of all the things we have discussed over the years - nothing surprises her anymore. So you're off the hook too, Rob...
That's a big list. I guess CBC is like radio 4 here, the best reason for being British. I think Eric should be handed a set of noise blockers and a beer as soon as he walks in the door, what with all the vomiting and squealing there's bound to be. Learning to invade places must be a piece of cake compared to family life. Let the projectile vomiting commence! Hotboy
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