I dedicate this post to my sweet husband, who seems to be wearing a bulls-eye for my passive-agressive nature these days.
Today Baby Bear became a cautionary tale in baby proofing. Yesterday, after much too much stalling on our part, we had the video monitor mounted high up on the wall where she couldn't get it. You see, before, it was wedged securely between the crib and the wall. This was all wonderful until she discovered that camera, and she had to have it. I'll give her one thing, she gets what she wants. So even though I was convinced it was going to look horrendous to have a camera mounted on the wall, I decided that BB rolling around in the crib with the camera and a long cord was probably reason for someone to call CPS on me.
The camera went up, I didn't have a heart attack because it looked ugly. All was perfect. Except where did I put those handy little sticky things that secure the cord to the wall so it isn't dangling around ready to tangle around some unsuspecting baby's neck? Where... Where... Where... As I thought about this over night BB of course discovered the dangling cord and proceeded to pull the whole camera down on top of her head.
Papa Bear and I were not home when this happened and when our Señora called to tell us, my motherly guilt was in full force that I was not home to instantly cradle my sweet baby girl for a hurt that I pretty much caused. When I told Papa Bear what had happened, he shrugged and said, "Oh ok."
WHHHAAAAAAAAAAATTTTTTT?
Why wasn't he as upset as I was? I expected him to drop the three ginormous hoses he was buying for the house (kink free!) and whisk us both off home to tend to Baby Bear. Once we got home he took a quick look at her and ascertained everything was fine and promptly began to change for work. I, in the meantime, surveyed the entirety of Baby Bear's body to make sure the camera did not create some sort of strange, unheard of puncture wound and began the great search for those little, sticky, plastic cord thingys. I found the "safe place" where I put them and in ten minutes the cord was baby proofed, camera secured, and everyone was miraculously still moving on with their lives.
Everyone but me. In those ten minutes it took me to secure the cord, I had a lot of time to think about how BB most likely had a strange concussion that had no symptoms at all. I could see myself on GMA telling my sad story of a camera mounting gone wrong, and how I thought she was fine. I had checked her pupils, she was happily chowing down on mac n' cheese, she seemed fine! Then it all went so wrong...
But I digress. I also had time to think about how mad I was at Papa Bear. I was so angry he didn't care at all about Baby Bear. He cared more about his shower, his hoses, and getting ready for work than our precious little baby?! This anger was only magnified when I discovered a teeny bump on her head and told him about it. His response again was, "Oh, ok, she'll live. I mean this isn't going to be the only bruise she will ever get."
Instead of rationally asking him why he wasn't concerned with his little girl's well-being, this being her very first bump and bruise in her life, I of course went the mature route and shouted, "Well, I am soooooo glad you care soooooo much about our daughter's health!" and stormed from the room.
Sidebar: Earlier this weekend PB asked me if he could go play tennis on Saturday after work. I did not want him to, so I replied what any self respecting wife would say, "If you want to." PB told me he didn't like when I was passive-agressive and to just say yes or no (for the love of Pete!). I promised I wouldn't be passive-agressive anymore for fear I would turn into my mother, the queen of passive-agressive guilt trips. My mom is an amazing woman whom I idolize, but it's true, she learned the art of passive-aggresive guilt trips from her mother, I learned the great art from my mother, and so the cycle shall continue....
I don't know if it is motherhood, lack of sleep, a complete change in dynamic with a baby, but I think I am now taking over as the queen of passive-agression. I find myself muttering insults under my breath all the time, never can I answer a request from PB with a simple yes or no, it always is an answer with some underlying meaning. You see, I am testing him to make sure he can still read my mind. Even the smallest things like he doesn't want a beer at night with dinner, that of course, merits a guilt trip from me. After all, I slaved away all day going to the store to buy him said beer, with the money he earns from his blood, sweat, and tears that he gives me for groceries. Why do I have to be so controlling and most of all why do I even care? If you know the answer, please tell me and save me from myself!
Later, after I apologized to PB for my ridiculous outburst, he explained he was trying to stay calm because I clearly was not. What good would it do to have two parents freaking out over a little bump? He puts me in my place every time.
My advice to you, dear reader, is this. Save your marriage and your sanity. Just say what you mean and communicate with your husband. As much as we try (and damned if we do), they will never, ever be able to read our minds. And why would we want them to? Then PB would know where I hid all the chocolate....
Have a fabulous, and assertive day!
Today Baby Bear became a cautionary tale in baby proofing. Yesterday, after much too much stalling on our part, we had the video monitor mounted high up on the wall where she couldn't get it. You see, before, it was wedged securely between the crib and the wall. This was all wonderful until she discovered that camera, and she had to have it. I'll give her one thing, she gets what she wants. So even though I was convinced it was going to look horrendous to have a camera mounted on the wall, I decided that BB rolling around in the crib with the camera and a long cord was probably reason for someone to call CPS on me.
The camera went up, I didn't have a heart attack because it looked ugly. All was perfect. Except where did I put those handy little sticky things that secure the cord to the wall so it isn't dangling around ready to tangle around some unsuspecting baby's neck? Where... Where... Where... As I thought about this over night BB of course discovered the dangling cord and proceeded to pull the whole camera down on top of her head.
Papa Bear and I were not home when this happened and when our Señora called to tell us, my motherly guilt was in full force that I was not home to instantly cradle my sweet baby girl for a hurt that I pretty much caused. When I told Papa Bear what had happened, he shrugged and said, "Oh ok."
WHHHAAAAAAAAAAATTTTTTT?
Why wasn't he as upset as I was? I expected him to drop the three ginormous hoses he was buying for the house (kink free!) and whisk us both off home to tend to Baby Bear. Once we got home he took a quick look at her and ascertained everything was fine and promptly began to change for work. I, in the meantime, surveyed the entirety of Baby Bear's body to make sure the camera did not create some sort of strange, unheard of puncture wound and began the great search for those little, sticky, plastic cord thingys. I found the "safe place" where I put them and in ten minutes the cord was baby proofed, camera secured, and everyone was miraculously still moving on with their lives.
Everyone but me. In those ten minutes it took me to secure the cord, I had a lot of time to think about how BB most likely had a strange concussion that had no symptoms at all. I could see myself on GMA telling my sad story of a camera mounting gone wrong, and how I thought she was fine. I had checked her pupils, she was happily chowing down on mac n' cheese, she seemed fine! Then it all went so wrong...
But I digress. I also had time to think about how mad I was at Papa Bear. I was so angry he didn't care at all about Baby Bear. He cared more about his shower, his hoses, and getting ready for work than our precious little baby?! This anger was only magnified when I discovered a teeny bump on her head and told him about it. His response again was, "Oh, ok, she'll live. I mean this isn't going to be the only bruise she will ever get."
Instead of rationally asking him why he wasn't concerned with his little girl's well-being, this being her very first bump and bruise in her life, I of course went the mature route and shouted, "Well, I am soooooo glad you care soooooo much about our daughter's health!" and stormed from the room.
Sidebar: Earlier this weekend PB asked me if he could go play tennis on Saturday after work. I did not want him to, so I replied what any self respecting wife would say, "If you want to." PB told me he didn't like when I was passive-agressive and to just say yes or no (for the love of Pete!). I promised I wouldn't be passive-agressive anymore for fear I would turn into my mother, the queen of passive-agressive guilt trips. My mom is an amazing woman whom I idolize, but it's true, she learned the art of passive-aggresive guilt trips from her mother, I learned the great art from my mother, and so the cycle shall continue....
I don't know if it is motherhood, lack of sleep, a complete change in dynamic with a baby, but I think I am now taking over as the queen of passive-agression. I find myself muttering insults under my breath all the time, never can I answer a request from PB with a simple yes or no, it always is an answer with some underlying meaning. You see, I am testing him to make sure he can still read my mind. Even the smallest things like he doesn't want a beer at night with dinner, that of course, merits a guilt trip from me. After all, I slaved away all day going to the store to buy him said beer, with the money he earns from his blood, sweat, and tears that he gives me for groceries. Why do I have to be so controlling and most of all why do I even care? If you know the answer, please tell me and save me from myself!
Later, after I apologized to PB for my ridiculous outburst, he explained he was trying to stay calm because I clearly was not. What good would it do to have two parents freaking out over a little bump? He puts me in my place every time.
My advice to you, dear reader, is this. Save your marriage and your sanity. Just say what you mean and communicate with your husband. As much as we try (and damned if we do), they will never, ever be able to read our minds. And why would we want them to? Then PB would know where I hid all the chocolate....
Have a fabulous, and assertive day!
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