sueeeus

It all began with a gift. My sister bought a new dining set, and graciously gave me her old dining table, which is actually quite new. It’s a beautiful table, dark and chunky, with carvings on the sides. It didn’t match anything in my dining area. For as big as my house is, it’s not got the greatest of floor plans with which to work.

I always get a boost when I rearrange things. A fresh new look does much for my frame of mind. So, with enthusiasm and energy, I went about making the rearrangement plans. Now, I will have to say that Mister Gadget is not a fan of change, and sees little to no sense in the rearranging of furniture that is perfectly fine where it is, thank you very much. In order to minimize the unpleasantries that are certain to take place when the actual moving of furniture commences, my plans include as much prep work that I can possibly complete without his help.

So. We have a living room that has been, for the most part, useless, as we tend to convene in the family room. There is a large armoire with display cabinets that was roughly centered along one wall. It needed to move a few feet towards the front of the room. Oh, the ire this request caused! A necessary sacrifice, because once moved, it allowed me to better balance the rest of the room, so now I am much happier with the room, and even happier to say that we have actually used it since. The old table has a home in the front room as well, so now we have a friendly little corner spot where we can play games or work on puzzles. A sofa is opposite the armoire, and the armoire hides a TV, a stereo, the wii, and the PS3. Needless to say, with the PS3 there, the room gets used. I’m delighted that my sweet little boy has taken a fancy to snuggling on this couch with me, while we read about Transformers (his favorite book at the moment), so all members of the family now enjoy this room, albeit at different times.

The treadmill has been banished to the garage where it can continue to collect dust, and the house plants now live in a sitting area on the far wall. All in all, it’s become a worthy room to spend time in. Yes, the massage chair is uglier than sin, but hello? It’s a massage chair! It’s forever welcome in my home.

There was another armoire with display shelves in the dining room, but with the new table, the room was far too congested. They found a new home in the spare room. It was to be the baby’s room, but who am I kidding? We have a family sleeping room, and of course the baby will also sleep there. Just like big brother. Big brother’s room is little more than a toy room, and I’m leaning toward the idea of making it the official toy room, for both of them, rather than his room. One day there may be Tinkerbell posters alongside of Spiderman and Optimus Prime. So the master bedroom is where sleeping takes place. Someday I might make a post about my theory of the family sleeping room as a means of birth control. Not today though. Currently, the room has two beds, and soon will have the baby hammock. So, the spare room can be a comfortable place for guests to stay. It will have a queen bed along with the armoire set, so it will be quite crowded. Crowded, but comfortable. And the family sleeping room will soon have a king bed! The wild child has a way of making an appearance some time in the early hours of morning, and invariably I find a foot or a leg in my face. He’s smart, too. Rather than climb over us, he goes to the foot of the bed and stealthily climbs between us. Maybe we should invest in a bed with a footboard, rather than a bigger bed. I’d like the extra sleeping area though. If little mister busy body manages to climb into the bed, at least I will have a little more room to achieve some semblance of comfort, and hopefully avoid flailing appendages.

With all the furniture moved, we made a trip to IKEA, where we purchased some shelves that better match the new table. Chez Bec inspired me in several ways. She has a shelving unit along one wall that holds dishes, and is very open and family friendly. I like the idea of not having to reach on tippy toes to retrieve a bowl, and not having to move a stack of dishes in order to reach the stack behind. I like a place for everything and everything in its place. Ideally, things would have nice drawers (like Suse’s kitchen) or cabinets in which to live, but my kitchen has shallow drawers and short shelves in the cabinets. So a handsome, open shelving unit is just the ticket. Said idea caused no small amount of chagrin, whilst in IKEA, of course. I like to have my meltdowns in public places. But we have come through the storm and the shelves are up and full of dishes. Easy to get to dishes.

Chez Bec also boasts a beautiful menu board, displayed prominently on a kitchen wall. Brilliant! My version is not nearly so fine, but it’s functional. Perhaps some day I’ll step it up and make it a thing of beauty. Function over form, for now.

Oh how I love a clean, sparkly house! I graciously invited my niece to clean my house, in exchange for a nice wage. My illustrious and industrious 11 year old niece and her best friend have a grand plan to earn money to purchase laptops, so they’ve created a babysitting (and other odd jobs) business, complete with their own web site. Very impressive for eleven year olds. I love that they’re willing to work! I’m happy to help them in their endeavor of fulfilling their dreams, and I love having anybody but me clean the toilets.

So, for this weekend’s accomplishments, I’ve got a squeaky clean house, a new dining room, and fresh looks all around. It may be a bit of early nesting. Whatever it is, it pleases me much. Now, if only I could tame the three year old cyclone (and the forty year old, for that matter) so that my home could stay this way.

I get a newsletter from the Mayo Clinic. Today’s gem: “Coping with stress is easier when you identify your stress triggers, manage your time well and beat burnout.”

Duh…

I can identify my number one stress trigger. That would be Mister Gadget, in all his pleasant glory.

I don’t think I mentioned that I’ve been tapering off the Zoloft. I’m nearly done, and have learned some interesting things in the process. The first thing is that Zoloft worked wonders as a marriage stabilizer. If When Gadget, my man of few words, which, when uttered, tend toward sour and sarcastic, and I bicker (oh, the commas in this sentence are dizzying), I end up the worse for wear, and he is oblivious to the fact that there is even an argument in progress, and generally snaps at me to inquire why I’m being so nasty, again, oblivious to the fact that he is snapping at me. The frustration rises and consumes me in the instant, and I’m powerless to express anything, and find myself on the verge of tears. It’s maddening. And I’m not a nasty, sour person. I’m gentle and pleasant (for the most part).

I ask him what he thinks it means if I need to be medicated in order to live harmoniously with him. “You’re still going on about that? I’m over it. It’s history,” he says, in reference to the spat, assuming that’s where I’m coming from when I ask him what he thinks it means if I need to be medicated… He does that. Makes assumptions about what he thinks I’m talking about, instead of actually listening to what I’m saying. It’s maddening!

And perplexing. At work, effective communication is one of my professional skills. I’m generally diplomatic, patient, and pleasant. I help bridge cultural chasms, for crying out loud, and bring about a meeting of the minds. People are usually cooperative, and even if they’re not, I can still deal with it. But on the home front? We do not communicate well. And I don’t know why. Obviously, I think he could stand to be more cooperative. He just thinks I’m stubborn and overly sensitive. It’s true, I admit it, but I’m generally reasonable, and not stubborn for the sake of being stubborn. Whereas he seems to be stubborn for the sake of being stubborn. It’s more entertaining for him. Or something. It would be nice if he could see that what’s merely entertaining for him is serious for me, and perhaps, possibly, make a little self-sacrifice and attempt to show some consideration for my sensitive nature. To tell me not to be sensitive is of very little help. If I knew how to curb my sensitivities (naturally), then I’d DO it. Work with me here, please.

Meanwhile, I’m pulling out my hair, and wondering if tapering off the Zoloft is such a good idea. Zoloft gave me a buffer that allowed me that instant of time to seek words rather than be immediately incapacitated in the face of frustration. So I wonder how I can possibly acquire that buffer naturally. I don’t need it for work. I don’t need it for my child. I don’t need it for my siblings or my friends. I only need it for Mister Gadget. Why is that?

The other thing I’ve noticed with the taper is that the first few days with a reduced dosage are fine. Even great. But the fourth day is another story. There was a spat on day 4 of the first dosage reduction cycle, and there was a spat on day 4 of this one as well. It could be coincidence, but something tells me it’s not. Interesting. After day 4, things seem to normalize. I go two weeks on each reduction. I’m nearly done. One week to go. I’m wondering if I’ll have another meltdown in a week and four days.

Now, I’m not saying that Gadget is a complete jerk and I’m an angel among angels (although, when it comes to being behind the wheel, it’s a completely different matter, and yes, I’ll say he tends to be a consistent jerk in that respect). The frustrations of which I speak are not a constant thing. THANK GOD! This latest is an unloading of the most recent day 4 experience. We have many harmonious times. There’s not such an emotional need to write things out and unload when things are harmonious, though. The result is a rather lop-sided portrayal of the relationship.

I have a beautiful life. Truly, I do. I just have my moments.

Coming soon, a show and tell post about recent inspirations and corners of my home.