My body and soul feel so much more peaceful right now. Content isn't the right word, I'm still itching for change...furniture, hair color, kitchen, scenery...but that itch isn't all consuming. It's just a small mosquito bite compared to the all over rash I had when Jim was out of work. There's a lot to do, there's a lot I'd like to change, but it will come when it comes. In the meantime, it's me, Natalie, and that's it. We don't have to wait for daddy to do anything during the day. For example, if I need to go to the groccery, I just go. None of this asking if he needs/wants anything, finding out he'd like to go with, then waiting half an hour for what he said was "just a sec." No more, we just go. That half hour would be torture, if I knew it would be half an hour, Natalie and I could sit down with a stack of books and be ready when he is in no time. Instead we end up hovering, she starts to make messes, I try and discourage b/c I think we're seconds away from walking out the door, I hated it. I started hating Jim for it too. Now I fully feel like my time is my own, and the only one who is going to hinder my time table during the day is 3 years old and doesn't really understand. In contrast to her father who is 44 years old and should at least have a clue, which he doesn't.
I also don't have Jim breathing over my shoulder all day...I don't function well like that. In the office, I was content to be left alone with my work and not talk to a human if at all possible. Makes sense that I work really well from home. I like the solitude. Again, we're back to hovering. Hovering over my shoulder while I work, asking when I'll be done. Hovering around while I'm trying to get things done, wondering when I'm going to do X, Y, or Z. Wanting to know when I'm going to fit a trip A, B, or C into my day and not being content with "I don't know yet." My time is my own, and I'm not accountable to anyone. The kitchen will be clean, the laundry folded, and dinner ready when you come home from work, Jim.
He doesn't do well with process, so having him around during the day when all those things were in process drove him, and consequently me, nuts. He can't handle a messy kitchen, yet won't lift a finger to clean anything that wasn't a mess he made...carps about putting things in the dishwasher yet feels cereal bowls need to sit and soak. So what if getting Natalie transitioned from lunch to an activity in a smooth maner is more important to me than putting our lunch dishes away. He doesn't understand that and no longer do I have to answer to his complaints. I don't care if piles of dirty laundry are left on the bedroom floor all day as I one at a time take them to the washer. So what. Not to mention we sort laundry differently. He's way more picky than me. But when he comes home to a whole mixed up basket of his laundry where he doesn't know what was washed with what? He's fine.
Yikes. Jim really is high maintenance. Or maybe I actually agree with my mother-in-law some and Jim needs a little anti-anxiety meds. Or maybe he just needs some time to settle in to the new job, get a few paychecks under his belt, and be able to shift his own priorities from controlling me to doing his job. We'll see. I've got the marriage counselor on speed dial if crossing my fingers doesn't work.