The Belgian is here.
I have kept my attitude in check, relatively speaking. I have resentments, but for the most part, I have been able to move past the icky, sticky stuff inside and be okay from the depths of my heart, not just from a plastic melting smile.
I am very moody. But rather than try to feign happiness, I told him I am stressed. I told him I am worried and upset, etc. I told him that, if he is going to come to visit only during the most stressful times of my life, then he should not expect a bed of roses. I told him that I am trying very hard to have a nice Christmas season, despite all of the nonsense going on around me. I told him I am a control freak and that I do not want his help with wrapping presents or writing Christmas cards, but he is welcome to make his own meals, walk the dog, and take out the trash. I told him it bugged me when he asked to use our phone for 30 minutes which turned into an hour with him sitting in the middle of the downstairs speaking loudly in unintelligible French, and I asked him to go upstairs and close the door.
With all of this, I am beginning to recognize my hot points and my needs. For example, I know that I am quite energetic and serious in the morning, and that I need and prefer my solitude until I make a dent in my task list and routines. I realize that I have earned the right to be tired at bedtime and prefer not to be touched when I have been up since 5 am and he sleeps until noon. I don’t feel guilty about that. Nor do I feel too bad about not eagerly sharing my laptop, since he decided not to bring his own.
I asked him to use the squeegee in the shower when he is done instead of fuming about all the spots. I believe I deserve first and full bathroom privileges at the beginning and the ending of the day. I paid a lot of money for that bathroom… and, I’m a girl.
Sometimes I really need 30 minutes in bed at night with no interruptions to read or do a puzzle or otherwise calm my mind before sleeping. I deserve that. I need that.
When I am really focused on a project, I enter some sort of alien zone, and I do not appreciate any attempts to deter me from the task at hand. I am learning how to snap back into the present at times, though, and the other day I truly enjoyed a simple lunch at the WalMart Subway while we were completing Christmas errands.
But, mostly, this Christmas I’m learning that I really would prefer a relationship where the man could go home after dinner.
I am feeling lots of different emotions this year, which seems odd, since I am consuming vast quantities of sugar via Mammaw’s Molasses Cookie recipe, which usually numbs me out and just leaves me very cranky. I feel grateful and hopeful about my new home and my new life, and I’m eagerly looking forward to painting and decorating while still enjoying the house as it is, with some parts done and some not.
I feel satisfied with my Christmas purchases, and I feel confident that it’s “enough,” even though I spent less this year than usual.
I am suddenly longing to take a day or two off from work while the kids are visiting their father or in school, just to think and plan and prioritize and make resolutions for the new year. Usually I enter that mode in September instead of January.
I feel good, really. I can’t explain that – I just feel it.
And with that, I will end this rambling post about feelings and lessons and other disjointed, boring things.