I'm Not the Boss of My House

I’ve been a feeling a little wistful lately. Why? Oh I don’t know. Maybe it’s because my anniversary is rapidly approaching. Twenty-eight years, who would a thunk it? I can remember my third anniversary like it was yesterday. We were at my mother in laws. We had been invited for an anniversary dinner. As dinner was being prepared Lisa and I were talking to Great Aunt Angie. Angie was the matriarch of the family and a real hot sketch. We were talking about marriage and this being our third anniversary. At one point while we were talking Angie took a pause, looked at me and said, and I quote “3 years, wow that’s great. Gee, and nobody thought it would last.” Maybe it’s because I’ve been thinking a lot more about some of my life’s more interesting and sometimes traumatic events. I can’t go into all of them right now, but a lot of them are included on my list of things I won’t do three times. Then again, maybe it’s the realization that I’m not really the boss of my house. OK, maybe I DO know why I’ve been so reflective lately. The problem isn’t that I’m not the boss. I guess the problem is, I have trouble accepting it

So let’s be clear right up front. I’m not the boss of my house. There, I’ve said it, OK? I get it, I’m not the boss. Heck I’m not even second in command. I only moved up a notch in the family command structure after the dog ran off.

I should have known all along. I mean, there were indicators early on. Right from the beginning I lost control. Actually, to say I lost control would be to imply that at one point I actually had it. I think we all know that would be a bit of an exaggeration.

I started dating Lisa in the spring of ‘79. I can recall that first summer like it was yesterday. Weekends would roll around and there would be endless debates about what we were going to do. Every weekend it was the same thing. Lisa always wanted to go to the beach. Now, before I go too much further I should set the stage. I am a fair skin Irishman, as a kid, I was the typical red haired freckled face kid everyone saw burning to a crisp all on the beach. After a day on the beach you couldn’t tell which was redder, my hair, or my shoulders. (I got burned by the sun and I feel like a French fry) Lisa on the other hand is an olive skinned Italian girl. She was the kind of kid that would slather up with baby oil to get the richer, deeper darker tan. Can you believe that? She added extra oil just to darken the tan. Why does the word “basting” come to mind? So we’d debate on Friday.

Her - Let’s go to the beach.

Me - But I don’t want to go to the beach.

H - But I want to go to the beach.

M - Not me, I hate the beach.

H - Where should we go, Crane’s or Hampton?

M - I’m not going to the beach.

H - Why don’t you want to go to the beach?

M - Because I get sun burned, that’s why.

H - Oh don’t be a big baby. We go through this every week, you won’t get burned.

M – Yes I will. I’m not going. Have fun without me. I’m staying home.

H – OK then, I’ll pick up at 8:00 AM. Make sure you’re ready. We’ll stop and get subs from Izzy’s on the way. What do you want to drink?

We’d go to the beach, of course. I’d get fried and spend the next five days swearing that was it, I wasn’t going to the beach ever again. Then our Friday debate would start all over. Saturday, I’d be back on the beach. On a positive note, this was the summer that I learned I actually COULD burn through clothing.

You think I would have learned, right? Nah, this was too subtle. I didn’t pick up on the hint.

I keep laughing about my involvement in my own wedding. What seemed funny at the time was actually a clever manipulation designed to wrest away more control and any/all delusions I had of authority. It was a harbinger of things to come

I guess I started to really notice things were amiss while planning the Honeymoon. I don’t know why, but the honeymoon plans were made first. Set a date for the honeymoon, and then plan the wedding. Heck, we had the Honeymoon date before an actual wedding date. So the great “Where do you want to go” debate started. I was looking into a honeymoon that would be special. I was investigating Caribbean Cruises and secluded island getaways. Not Lisa, her sole choice was Disney World. I can’t begin to tell you how adamantly I argued against Disney. Why should we go on a kiddie vacation for our honeymoon? Shouldn’t we be doing something a little more adult, a little more special, a little more rooo-mannn-tic? I put my foot down, we could do Disney another time, but this was our Honeymoon. We were doing something Sexx-yyy. So just what did we do for our honeymoon? You guessed it, we went to Disney.

There were other indicators too. Lisa, “Hey Joe, what should we have for a wedding dinner?” Me, “I think we should have the beef.” Lisa,” No, “I think we’ll have the chicken”. Lisa “Hey Joe, which tux do you like?” Me, “Ooooh, I like this charcoal gray one with the plain white shirt. “ Lisa, “No, you are going to wear this black one with a pleated shirt.” (What the hell is the difference between charcoal gray and black, they looked identical to me). Lisa, “Hey Joe, what do you think of these flowers?” Didn’t matter what I was going to say, I was going to be wrong.

And still I didn’t get the hint. I mean I got it, and I laughed about it. But I really didn’t GET it.

I can however tell you the exact time and circumstance that power was overtly and permanently shifted. OK, it was already there, I had just refused to acknowledge it.

Dan was about two years old. He had gotten a cold so he wasn’t feeling well. He was in his crib sobbing and crying for his Mommy. Lisa and I tried to calm him. We’d rock with him until he got quiet and fell asleep. All would be fine until we put him in his crib. It’s like he had some crib based early warning system or something. As soon as his head hit his bed he’d wake up and cry. This went on for hours. Eventually, I went to bed. Lisa said she was tired too. She said she was going to let him lay down with us, just until he fell asleep. My response? No way, we weren’t letting him sleep in our bed. Lisa’s response? Well let’s just say I spent all night trying not to roll over and squish Dan. I didn’t want to find a Dancake in the morning if you know what I mean.

Now to be fair, the kid was sick and he just wanted him mommy.

The next night, same thing. How about the night after that? Yup, I ended up sleeping with Dan again. This went on for over a week. Eventually, Dan started feeling better, but now we couldn’t get him to stay in his bed. He was use to sleeping with his mommy and he liked it.

Now I have seen all those Oprah and Dr. Phil specials about raising children. I know the pitfalls of letting children stay in your room and I also know how to get them out. At least so I thought. The weekend rolled around and I announced my plan for removing Dan. I have seen T. Barry Braselton. I know how to handle this. Friday night finally arrived. It was the perfect, time to stage my coup. I would remove Dan from my room and reclaim authority of the Kelly dominion.

I announced to Lisa I was going to handle getting Dan back to his own bed. She protested, but I would have none of it for you see, I had a plan. I knew what you were supposed to do. You hold the kid, you cuddle the kid, you put the kid into his bed all the while telling the kid how much you love him and that you are right outside so that he is safe and secure. You kiss said kid on the head, and then leave the room. The kid will cry and yell but you hold firm, for 10 minutes. In 10 minutes you go back into the room and repeat the hold/secure/kiss/leave process. You wait 15 minutes before you return the second time. Then you wait 30 minutes, then 45 until eventually, he falls asleep and you don’t go back. I know this process. Hell, my friend T. Barry taught it to me. Simple, right? A simpleton could do this. Right? Did I ever mention that I hate T. Barry Braselton?

So I kicked Lisa out of the house and put my plan to action. The boy would be sound asleep in his own bed by the time she got home. Lisa went to dinner and the movies or something, and I went to work. 11:00 PM rolls around and Lisa comes home. The grand plan has been in action for about 4 hours. She comes in the door and has a look of horror on her face. She looks at me and says “I can hear him screaming outside, what is going on?” I explained my Braselton plan. She said she was going to go get him. I forbade her from doing so. That’s right. I forbade her. Yeah baby, I was in control and it felt good. A minor skirmish ensued but in the end, she left it all up to me. Ah yes, command, it had a nice feeling. King of the castle. All was right with the world.

I went to bed at about 1:30 with the boy still crying. When I entered my room there was Lisa lying down with the lights on and the pillow over her head. She scowled at me and asked “how long is this going to go on?” I responded “As long as it takes, he’s not coming in here.” I got up the next morning all bright eyed and bushy tailed. I looked at Lisa. Her eyes were bloodshot. She wasn’t smiling. Her hair was shooting out in a hundred different directions. I looked at her, chuckled and asked, “So what time did Dan fall asleep?” Through her teeth she said “He hasn’t, he’s been awake all night crying, calling for his MOTHER!” I then asked, “So what time did you fall asleep? “She said “I haven’t, I’ve been up all night listening to him cry and you snore.” I said "Great, don’t let him sleep all day. Make sure he doesn’t nap. He’ll sleep tonight."

We kept him awake all day. Oh, he’d nod off for a moment or two, but we’d make sure it wasn’t for long. That night when I put him to bed, I was sure he would sleep. He didn’t. It was the same as the night before. Sunday morning when I woke up, Lisa was hovering over me with a pillow and a blunt object. She just growled "I’m getting him up and he’s sleeping with me." I just looked at her and said “No, you are not. We cannot let him sleep during the day. He will definitely sleep tonight.”

Sunday was hell, Neither Lisa or Dan was happy. Dan just wanted to be held and Lisa just wanted me dead.

Monday morning I was seriously afraid for my life. If Lisa had gotten any sleep or had had some strength, I’m not sure I’d be here today. At this point she’s no longer even talking to me. She’s just making low guttural grunting noises and pushing me out of the way. I looked at her at this point and said “This is day four and Dan has had no sleep he’s GOTTA fall asleep tonight.” Let’s just say I left the house at a full gallop this day.

Monday night rolled around and the scene was unimaginable. Dan was out of his mind. He hadn’t slept for more than 10 minutes in four days. Lisa too. But I was holding firm. He was not coming into my bed, Lisa was not going to get him, and he was staying in his room. That was that. It was final. In this test of will power, I would be king and the KING reigns supreme!

I will remember this like it happen only seconds ago for the rest of my life. This is the first time Lisa actually hit me. It was about 1:00 AM. I was sleeping and Dan was crying. All of a sudden there was a sharp pain in my back. I don’t know what she hit me with but it was hard, and it hurt. She whacked me good a second time. I knew what it was this time because, I was now awake. In a very low, very stern, kinda scary voice she said “get up”. I rolled over and said “What the hell was that?” She said “He’s still crying.” I responded “Yeah, so?” She said “I’m going to go get him. If you don’t like it, I don’t care. You can go somewhere else. Move in with your mother, go to you brothers, go to hell, I don’t care. I’m getting him and if you don’t like it, tough shit.” I just laid there stunned. I said “Noooooooo, you are not.” She looked me square in the eyes and through her teeth said “That kid hasn’t slept in four days, I haven’t slept in four days. All he wants is his mother, if you don’t like it too bad. If he wants to sleep in my bed then he’s going to.” With that she got out of bed, grabbed Dan and brought him back. The two of them lay down and immediately passed out. I couldn’t sleep the rest of the night, my back was hurting.

The next night rolled around and it was time to put Dan to bed. Lisa picked him up and headed up stairs and said “we’re going to bed.” I said “He’s not sleeping in our bed.” She said “Oh yeah, you think so?” and put Dan on her should. Dan looked at me, smiled and I’m not sure but I think he flipped me the bingo.

So, can you imagine that? This two year old kid didn’t sleep for 4 days because he wanted to sleep with his mother. After this incident I held no control over him or Lisa. I’d try to get him to do something and if he didn’t want to, he’d just run to Lisa. And Lisa, she’d side against me because, well she just would (have you read the rest of my blogs? It’s understandable). I stopped arguing with her because; well my back would start to throb.

Dan was either in, or on the floor beside my bed until he was in the second grade.  The whole time I kept saying "We gotta get this kid outta here."  Lisa kept responding "Don"t even think about it."

In reality, since I have known Lisa I have only gotten my way once. My first house was a tiny little cape over in Mansfield across the street from the high school. OK, some people like to say it was behind the land fill. Me, I like to be more positive so I like to think of it being by the school. Anyway, I wanted to move, Lisa didn’t. I just could not get her to even consider moving. So how did we end up in Wrentham? I waited for her to be good and sick one day. I went and looked at houses with a realtor and found a couple that I liked, one in Mansfield, one in Foxboro and two in Wrentham. I dragged Lisa out of her sick bed and asked her to pick one. She had a fever of about 294 this day. Basically, she randomly picked a house so she could go back to bed. By the time she was feeling better I had already given a deposit and signed the purchase and sales agreement.

Though these stories are old, it doesn’t stop there. For example:

• When Lisa hit a milestone birthday, I told her I was going to take her to Hawaii. She said no, we were going on a cruise, with her friends. She also informed me she was willing to go without me if I had a problem with it.

• On the next milestone event, I told her I was giving her a long weekend in Paris. Wrong again, she rescheduled it for two weeks in Italy

• For years I was adamant that I would not be getting the kids a car. The kids could get their own damn car and insurance too for that matter. Lisa decided it would be a good idea to get the kids a car so they could get themselves back and forth to school in PA. Guess who won that debate?

Should I go on? I get a new example almost every day.

Take for example last weekend.  Someone called and asked what we were doing and invited us to their house for an afternoon of fun in the sun on Saturday.  I said we were busy, I had a ton of work to catch up on around the house.  They said the understood and that is was too bad we couldn't get together.  They no sooner  finished this brief conversation when they asked to speak to Lisa.  I'll give you one guess as to what I did that  Saturday.

I mean, I know people ask my opinion just to be nice and all.  But do they have to be so blatant about it.  I mean come on.
 
If I’m suppossed to be the King of my castle, who out ranks the King? Is it the Queen? Empress? Goddess? Well truth be told, Lisa out ranks them all.

So there you go. I’m not the boss of my house. Never was, never will be. Oh I try every now and again, but it isn’t going to happen. The one time I prevailed was the one time I tricked her. And she had to be good and sick for me to do it. Man oh man. Come to think of it, if she were sicker, maybe I could get things my way more often.