Why Can't You Be Just Like Me?

One of the hardest things about life is accepting that other people aren't just like me. Wow. What an ego!

I strive to be a good wife. I do. I don't want to be Naggy Naggerson but sometimes... I am. Being the overly analytical type, I will often spend useful time wondering what I can do to make my husband pick up those socks from the carpet. Didn't we just have this conversation? I try another approach, the way us teachers do when a student doesn't seem to get what we are teaching them. I run through Gardner's multiple intelligences' list and try new ways. I even went so far as to ask Lloyd the other day "what can I do to help you remember to put your laundry in the basket?" He thought about it a brief moment, the way he does when he wants to stop irritating me. He said "put the laundry bin by the bedroom door".

I crinkled my face. "The laundry bin has been next to the door for the last 2 months- I put it there so you would use it."

Lloyd: "It is??". I crinkled my face once more. I analyzed the situation. I want to understand. How has he not seen that large laundry bin there?? He certainly doesn't have a vision problem.

Sometimes I just relent and pick up the socks. Just as I wipe down the counters each morning after the cyclone that is Lloyd has come through. Would I say that it bothered me? No, not usually. We each have our roles. He does most of the cooking, I do most of the cleaning. It is, however, difficult for us women, or perhaps just me, to relinquish control and accept that men just may not ever change their untidy ways. My job, as a woman, is to save Lloyd from himself. Us women are always trying to save a man and make him better.

I had a conversation with my co-worker one day about this, as she is also married to a Brit. She looked at me intently and said, "Cambria, you decide what you can put up with, and what you can't." It made sense. Without the messes, I wouldn't get the best apologetic foot rubs. I likely wouldn't even feel quite as useful if Lloyd had better cleaning habits. What would I do with myself? Lloyd will read this and think he is somehow giving me purpose in life. Don't get it twisted, Lloyd. I still want your stinky socks off the floor. But, just so we're clear.... I love you anyway.