The End

Yesterday was the end.  I can't do this anymore.  I can't be a verbal punchbag for my husband a. moment. longer.

Last night what kicked it off was some flour on the counter.  It's always something.  Always something small.

Yesterday, in between getting me and Aaron breakfast, getting us both washed and dressed (Aaron had a lovely 1 hour bath) I hoovered the sitting room floor, as Aaron had dropped rice round the dining table during the previous night's dinner.  The husband had sat at that table till late on computer yet had neither noticed nor done anything about it.

I did not blog on either blog yesterday.  In  fact not having blogged since Sunday, my page views on here yesterday were at a figure that they have not been since June last year. Yet he thinks I spent my morning/day on computer.  Yes, I did a little, but it was APPLYING FOR JOBS.

Anyway, after rushing to drop Aaron I then went to the Job Centre.  After that I went to the Supermarket and bought all of the ingredients for Pancakes (it was Shrove Tuesday yesterday after all).  Despite being pushed for time, I risked going to WH Smith after that, as the husband had given me £30 of book vouchers for my 40th.  I got a book for Aaron from his favourite Publisher and 2 books for me.

I then got the bus to nursery and had to get off 2 stops early and run the rest of the way.  I made it 5 minutes early.

When we got home, the husband was already in.  He made no attempt to come down and help us come in (we live in a 1st floor flat).  He later blamed it on the fact that the doorbell was not plugged in.  I had rung him, but his phone was on silent.  I came upstairs with one lot of bags, and then came upstairs with the second lot.  He still made no attempt to go down.  When I LOOKED at him, he said "where's Aaron?" to which I said downstairs.

He then said "Go down" and "I'll take him off you" but he did not exactly rush.

I went down and passed sleeping Aaron to him whilst I broke down the buggy.

He stayed asleep on Daddy's knee, whilst I dived in making pancakes as I knew I'd struggle to, if Aaron woke up.

I asked why he had not met us at nursery to drive us home, and he said he'd only just got in, to which I said we didn't leave nursery till 6:05 p.m.  He said lots of things before he finally said that he'd got public transport to and from work yesterday, and if I wasn't blind I would have seen the car outside (when I got up).  He said that last comment in a really disrespectful way.

I made a big, huge delicious pancake (when I haven't in about 15 years and never as good as that) - I covered it in his favourite maple syrup and gave it to him.

Anyway, fast forward to later, and Aaron pours a third of the bottle of £5 maple syrup in the frying pan, and I get stressed (the husband is nowhere near).  So then Aaron moves to the flour.  The ONLY thing that stops him causing chaos is I give him a small Tommee Tippee bowl of flour to play with.  He gets it on his clothes, on the worktop, and on his nose.  He looks REALLY cute.  I am victorious as he is having fun, and I have made more pancakes.  Win Win.  AND I have never yet baked with Aaron, so it really was a step forward.

I go into the sitting room with Aaron, and try to get him to sleep.  I then take him to bed and try and get him to sleep.

Aaron says "more bottle" and we end up in the kitchen.  The husband is boiling rice.  The gas hob is on high and it is adjacent to the paintwork of my expensive £50 toaster.  I tell him he should have moved the toaster into the empty space next to it.  He says that empty space is only there as he's put away the things I left there (including a large packet of porridge for me starting my detox today).  Honestly, there would have been no more than 4 items and to me he made too much of it.

The husband comments on the flour on the counter.  He says I let Aaron play with flour when I shouldn't.  He won't listen to the fact that I gave him a small bowl to play with.  He seems to want me to clean it, but I have a kettle in one hand a bottle in the other, and a bowl of hold water in the sink, ready to cool down the bottle.  Aaron is trying to put his hands in the sink and he can see I am dealing with that too.

He comes back less than 10 minutes later and says "you still haven't cleaned it" meaning the flour.

It is obvious even to a stranger that I am up to my neck in it with Aaron, and the flour is an amount that covers LESS than the size of a dinner plate - I'd say an amount that looks the size of a saucer.

In answer to that, I said "I did all the washing up today" (which is significant as I had made a beautiful sausage casserole the day before and he's made no attempt to clean up after, so I had washed dinner, breakfast and lunch dishes, just before I rushed to the Job Centre).

to which he says "the place is a state" and then he starts moving his hands in a patronising, lecturing way, and using the word SHOULD a lot, and saying that I do not understand "continuous, consistent, domestic chores" (now bearing in mind he fiercely objected December 2011 to me telling a Butlins member of staff that he was/is chauvanist, since we've had a baby, THIS really got my goat).

I shouted at the top of my voice, like a banshee, "I was at the Job Centre, and in the ONE half hour window of spare time I had, I spent it washing up".

It shocked him, as he knew outside and downstairs would have heard.  From his body language I could tell that he wanted to react physically but he just did not dare.  He knew downstairs would be listening.  He knew I would freak, and he KNEW that on Saturday I had for the first time ever accused him of domestic abuse (not violence).

I did not mention that I'd also managed to hoover up alll the rice on the floor in the sitting room.

Anyway, he will now remember last night as the night Aaron was up till midnight, but that took place way earlier in the night so that is no excuse.

After I got Aaron to sleep I went into the kitchen, and when his rice had earlier finished, he'd got out the casserole dish from the fridge (of the previous night's left over sausage casserole) and instead of spooning our what he needed and just warming up that, he'd warmed up the whole dish (enough for 3 people) and just left it on the side with only a third gone.

What was left should have been for me and Aaron for lunch today, but that would involve heating something for a third time and I told him as much.  He couldn't get back to his man cave and shut the door quick enough.  The balance of power had shifted, JUST because I'd shouted, and you know what, it can stay that way.  After 25 years, I have had more than enough of being bullied.

I was sent this yesterday, by Momma Two, and let's just say, it struck a lot of chords.

Liska
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