Marital Mondays: Such a Big Ego

November 9, 2009 · Posted in marital mondays, marriage, relationships 

Sunday is quite often the day for marital work in our home. It’s definitely work. It’s grueling. The talks often go on for two or three hours. Hannibal always quotes Red Foreman saying, “If it wasn’t work, they’d call it ‘Super wonderful crazy fun time.’” Sometimes we leave the conversations depressed and ready to go drown in a 50 foot pool of mustard, and other times we’re re-energized and happy to start our week or our next project together. The good thing about both of those situations is that we’re actively improving the relationship — and ourselves.

Last night, the focus was on Hannibal’s ego and its need for constant stroking. We also discussed the fact that I’m a militant homemaker. Let’s just say those two factors make a concoction for catastrophe. For example, when I sigh and say “Why the hell are there crumbs on the counter? I thought you cleaned the kitchen last night.” It makes my little Hannibalito feel under appreciated. After all, he saw that I was tired, offered to do the dishes, and cleaned up to the best of his ability, right? My nitpicking about one filthy counter out of four clean ones undermines his entire gesture. He wants to feel like he’s awesome! He didn’t leave the crumbs with malicious intent. Women just do everything better than men. We decided that I should make a list of everything involved in cleaning the kitchen after dinner — from mopping the floor to tying up the trash — and post it on the refrigerator. He’s super excited, because he has incorporated lists into almost every area of his life. He’s very efficient. Marsha, his boss at the Sentinel, would give him a list that she thought would take him all day, and he completed everything in an hour. Since he only has to do the kitchen like twice per week, I’m sure it’ll work out fine.

*Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!*

(We interrupt this blog for a brief urination break. Hannibal had to wheel me down our lengthy hardwood hallway in my daughter’s pink desk chair, because I was convinced that if I stood up, all the pee would fall out. Yup, that’s 36 weeks pregnant for you! Thank you Hannibal for your majestic, exalted, supernatural solutioning capabilities. Now that I’m completely embarrassed and his ego has been stroked — yet again — we return to your regularly scheduled blog programming.)

Hannibal diagnosed cancerous growths on his ego that have poisoned areas of his life in a prism-like fashion. He says they’ve been there for years, but he’s just now figuring it out. He plans to go through some laser-like surgical removal of these growths in the near future. I’ll let you know how that turns out. If you read last Thursday’s blog, you’ll recall that I spent the past week and a half calling Hannibal a moron. That probably didn’t help with his ego issue. This week, he’s agreed that I can call him Memphis (What? We haven’t settled on pet names yet. You gotta problem with it?). I’m also coming up with a No-More-Nagging potion for newlyweds that will keep neophyte hubbies feeling 100 percent awesome 80 percent of the time.

We’re aware that during this first year (even though we’ve been together three), we’re giving birth to a couple. Before marriage, he could wipe his balls on hand towels and I could focus on my own damn external validation issues. As with all labor and birthing processes, there will be pain. We’re getting to know each other more and more each day. He likes a bendy straw in every drink. I like my feet rubbed almost daily. While each of us painstakingly learns the other’s quirks, our vibrant sex life is that placenta that keeps us thriving.

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Comments

  • Hannibal Tabu, The Operative

    As I noted in my tweet this morning, "Publicly noted as a self-obsessed narcissist who's great in bed today. The important part? 'who's great in bed.' HT FTW."

    Also funny is "little Hannibalito," as in a "little little Hannibal." Since the afore-tweeted, we know what that's not about, but let's just move on.

    Gonna go back to staring dreamily into my own eyes now. >8^)

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