Then, I say to anyone who goes into the kitchen, in my passive aggressive voice "the dishwasher is clean". Of course what I mean is, the dishwasher needs to be emptied. Or, depending on where my mood takes me I might mean "if you really loved/ cared about me you would know that I want you to empty the dishwasher"
But, pretty much nobody, at least nobody in my family, can read my mind. I think I am getting better about all of this. I think, or at least I try, to communicate with words rather that looks and brain waves. No ESP here!
I wonder if I have spent much of my life to setting myself up for disappointment. I am trying to take responsibility/ blame for myself. But honestly I wish there was just a little bit of understanding and anticipating what I want. What I want to communicate. Here's how it works. In my mind, someone (name anyone- kids, husband...) would walk into the kitchen and say to themselves, boy, the stove sure is greasy, I bet it makes Nancy feel crummy. I think I will surprise her by cleaning it. Dream on! I remember once, years ago, showing Nick how to clean the refrigerator so that if I died and it was dirty he could clean it.
Nah, that's not going to happen. I taught all of the kids how to do things- laundry, sweep, clean a kitchen. So it's not that they never learned or that they cannot do these things. And it doesn't mean that they don't love me. I believe that they all love me a lot. It's just how their minds and thought processes work. And I have to remind myself not to be disappointed that they care about different things than I do.
Some of these feelings are my neuroses. Some from being a mother. Some from having a mother who had no trouble expressing her disappointment so much that I was actually afraid to disappoint her. That's not who I want to be.
Every year I look at all of the Christmas cards and letters from all of the people I know who have these picture perfect families. Squeaky clean adult children and adorable grandchildren. They go on beach vacations and build amazing sand castles together.
My kids are also interesting. They are just not "conventional" in the ways of Christmas letters I guess.
August 14th addendum:
Last evening Nick and I cooked dinner. He cooked the chicken, that had a sauce. I am really trying so hard not to sound like a bitch, but... instead of using tongs to turn the chicken over he used a big spatula. He did not have anything for the spatula to rest on, so it was on the counter top. After the chicken was done cooking I pointed out the mess on the counter to Nick and told him that it needs to be cleaned. I think he tried. But there was still a lot of the brown sticky sauce on the counter.
I think I am supposed to be grateful that he cooked, and honestly I am. But it's like when raising little kids. Sometimes it is just easier to do it yourself. Did he really not see or think about the mess? Maybe it's just not important to him. Probably. And maybe I expect too much. But honestly it hurts my feelings that these "little" things that matter to me are either not seen and recognized, or deemed not important. In terms of the whole picture, life, health, love, it's not important. However that small piece of recognition of my feelings matters to me. Is this my passive aggressive voice again? "He should know"?
I'll live. I am okay. I need to let it slide although I feel like I let it slide an awful lot. The dishwasher needs to be emptied. I will ask Nick to empty the dishwasher. I am going to take a shower now. I am grumpy!
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