My home is my domain. And I'm very picky about the way things are run around here. (My Mother in law is snickering now.) Especially when I'm here all the time with all the kids. There is just a way to do it and that's all there is to it. And I give out orders all day like I'm a Lieutenant.
Hairbrushes belong in three, maybe four places. And specific hairbrushes belong in specific places. Move my hairbrushes and I have issues. Really cranky.
Toothbrushes are similar. Certain people keep their toothbrushes in certain bathrooms. Period. I make an exception for Hwho sometimes rises early or goes to bed late. He gets a spare for the downstairs bathroom because he brushes his teeth so loud and for so long that it makes my toes itch (read: wakes me up and makes me irritable).
Dirty dishes go in only one side of the double sink. The disposal side. If there is a dish in the other side, it jolly well not have any food on it. Only one person cleans out the sink, ever, and by golly, I don't want to have to scoop the junk out of the other side.
You take the last shower you push the auto shower cleaner button. How hard is that?
The recycling bag is right next to the trash can. You finish the soda, the can goes in recycling. Move over three inches, it isn't that hard.
Dirty clothes go in a pile at the end of the hallway, equidistant from all bathrooms and bedrooms. It is far easier to throw them there as you take them off, than it is for me to go around the house, scooping them and gathering them to go wash them, fold them and put them away with a baby in my arms. I'm not asking a lot. You don't have to color sort them, put them in a hamper, or take them downstairs, just hit the corner of the hall as you go by.
I really don't ask much.
But I realized last night, just after I snapped Hub's head off, that it is his domain also. I mean, I certainly wouldn't have a place to call my domain if it weren't for him, so maybe I could cut him some slack.
Here's the story: He sticks his head in the bathroom and asks if we have another toothbrush somewhere. Yes, I answer. Kids' bathroom. Top shelf. Pack of ten. Of course, I remind him, he could also go downstairs and get his toothbrush that he took down that morning, will leave down there, never retrieve, and eventually have a stockpile that he will never use because once he gets a new one upstairs, ,he will take it down, use it once and get a new one. And I already told you I keep one down there for him, but he never remembers that part.
I didn't mention that he stole my hairbrush yesterday morning in a similar fashion. Which actually, I did mention. (But not to you, until now.)
I think he stomped downstairs and got his toothbrush, but I'm not sure. I didn't ask.
The man makes all the money in this house. You'd think I could cut him some slack. And I can, most of the time. But I never really realized how particular I am about just a few things.
MY hairbrush belongs at MY sink. The second runner up belongs in the kitchen (where I always do Princess' hair). Third version belongs in kids bathroom. Fourth belongs in the basement bathroom.
This weekend I saw Hubs scoop up my kitchen hairbrush and take it upstairs, telling Princess that she needs to leave hairbrushes where they belong. I kid you not.
Hubs prefers MY hairbrush. It was mine before we got married, so it is legitimately mine. I don't mind that he uses it, I MIND that he takes it downstairs and leaves it there and then, the next time he wants it, exasperatedly blames our daughter for stealing it. I use the one in the kitchen and eventually make it downstairs where I find the hairbrush stockpile. It is usually right next to the toothbrush stockpile. The toothbrushes that, when I ask him, he says he doesn't know are his because we had company once two months ago.
I'm not kidding.
All that to say, the man could not possibly know these rules because I've probably never told him (though I did last night in a less than Christian manner). But because I've been firing off commands at the kids all day, I think I've taken to firing them off at him also.
Gotta work on that.
I tell you this, not to make my husband sound like a fool, but because THIS week I'm the crabby one and he's just skirting around me.
Five more weeks until we are at the high end of the rollercoaster, right?