I've been working on organizing, cleaning out and rearranging all things having to do with the children’s toys, clothes, storage and play areas for the past two weeks. The goal was to get ready to address the garage first and then the attic to bring down, identify and collect in one place all the things we need to find new homes for.
I had done part of the garage and had already started piling some things off to the side that were targeted for friends or to be sold. I had been talking (apparently a little too much it turns out) to my husband about when we could get together to start the final stages of the work in the garage and attic.
I had made a family to do list with a category for him, one for me and one for us together. I had, at the start of this week, asked him to review the list and I had (I thought) made it clear that I needed his help in a few days on the garage/attic project.
I watched as he prioritized his list from one to nine, with one being his paperwork. I asked if paperwork needed to be the highest priority, given that we had lots of things that needed to be physically cleaned up around the house such as the remaining paint supplies from the recent external painting of our house, the rock wall leaning up against the brick wall that needed to be put on Craig’s List and the plants on the deck that were still in disarray from the painters, including their watering lines.
Yes, the paperwork was top priority, he told me. Okay, I said, so when will you be done with it? He told me he would be done by Tuesday—two days on paperwork. I wrote on the bottom of the page, “Wed—Start Garage & Attic”.
Two days went by and my husband worked late last night, well after I went to bed, getting that paperwork completed so he’s be ready to work on the garage and attic. I’d been talking about the progress I was making and how close I was getting to him as well as other people who happened by, such as my in-laws. I was ready for the morning.
This morning I took my son to school and then called my husband while I was in the Starbucks drive through line. I mentioned something to him about today and the garage and he seemed confused. I said to my husband, “What did you think was going to happen today?” He said, “Well, I thought I was going to make my own decision.”
I laughed. His timing on the line was perfect. I thought he was sort of joking though. But I was wrong. I got home and he hadn’t taken a shower. So I started working on my braille class. Time drug on and I was getting a little frustrated because the day was getting away from us. My husband got up suddenly and told me what his plans were for the day—none of which included the attic or the garage.
He had good plans for the day—things we had on the list to do—but those things could be done when I wasn’t at a stopping point, waiting for his help, because I couldn’t proceed further without him. I expressed my frustration. He didn’t like it. I plaintively told him I had been explaining what I’d been doing—in preparation for this—for days now. I brought in the paper we used to plan things two days before and pointed to the “Wed—start Garage and Attic” and he told me, “that’s not in my handwriting.”
And then I shut down. Okay, shutting down isn’t something I really do. I’m way too verbal to shut down. My husband told me I talk too much and he didn’t even know what was going on. Great. The talking thing again. Okay, fine, I’ll do my best to talk less, I thought.
And then he went into the garage and started doing things. I wasn’t sure what, because it was a collaborative job we needed to do together. We worked it out and we’ll get the job done tomorrow or Friday. It shouldn’t take too long…I hope. My husband and I don’t miscommunicate or misunderstand what the other means by such a large margin very often. I’m glad it was about the garage and not something more important like the health of our children.
The Big Boy Update: My son has decided to participate in his class’s talent show by singing, “We Are the Planets” by Story Bots. As I type this, he’s asked me to print out the lyrics so he can read and practice them for Friday’s presentation.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: My daughter’s musings in school, including the title of this blog post.
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