I am worn out. Utterly, completely exhausted. So much so that I am unable to fall asleep.
We went out of state this last weekend for our son's baseball tournament. Since we were gone for four full days I had our eldest son come over to house and dog sit. Even though The Hubster knows that #1 son is perfectly capable of taking care of everything, being in his mid-thirties now, my husband worried non-stop.
Not only did he worry about everything at home, he worried about every little thing that I did, Manlet did, and our entire schedule away from home.
Sometimes I really wonder if it is genuinely worth it to take The Hubster with us. He doesn't like sports, and although he doesn't seem to have any set schedules in his own life, he hates being away from home, away from our dogs, and away from his projects in his shop.
And he argues about everything!
As an intelligent, adult woman, I realize that Steve and I will never fully agree about absolutely everything in life, but that doesn't mean that we can't agree to disagree. Or at least I think so.
My spouse is differently minded.
If I have an idea or plan, I try to run it by Steve first. This, on the surface, seems to be a good, solid method of operation.
Except that it normally takes Steve longer to think about it than I am willing to wait, so I go ahead with whatever I'm wanting to do when he doesn't respond to my inquiry.
"Why are you always trying to control things?" roars my Mate.
"Sweetie, we talked about this two days ago. I explained that we were staying at the same hotel as the rest of the team, but that our plans outside of the tournament games would be totally up to us. The boys all wanted to go to dinner together, and Manlet has his own money, so I thought you and I could go elsewhere to eat. There are many nights that you don't eat dinner with us."
"Well you never let me decide what Manlet should do!" barks The Hubster.
"What is your objection to him going to the burger place with his buddies?" I query.
"You didn't ask me if he could!" Steve is working up to a real brouhaha. I don't wish to engage.
"Sorry dear. Do you want me to have him ask you next time? Is it possible for us to make the decision together?"
My hubby is now beyond talking. He huffs off to who knows where. Hopefully he's out walking to let off some steam.
I settle down with a book. Manlet is probably chewing his way through a triple sirloin bacon and cheese burger and a basket of sweet potato fries. He played hard today and will burn off all those calories in tomorrows games.
Meanwhile, I will attempt to talk this through with Steve again when he is calmer.
Perhaps next year? lol