I am NOT 54 years old!

And you most certainly don't act like it either! I was going to talk about intimacy issues but there was this great article in the paper today about POOGs - Pissed Off Old Guys. It seemed more compelling to talk about POOGs than the usual crap about intimacy. I'll get there, bear with me, just not today!

POOGs... that's him to a T.

Today I heard this from The Husband "you're gonna have to buy your own groceries... you can't keep eating my stuff." His precious nuts and berries full of fibre for cleansing the intestine which keep him regular! This from the person who does 9/10s of the grocery shopping for the family!

hello? Are we in dorm rooms or a family? WTF???

I looked at him in complete disbelief and asked him to repeat himself... I mean really... "his" groceries? To say I was stunned would be understating things.

It's the same with the laundry. Rather than put his laundry into the hamper with the rest of the family, he leaves his stuff on his side of the bed. ( and then wonders why the boy leaves his laundry ALL over his room!)

My belief is if we want the children trained, it starts with being a role model. Well his response is "I'll do my own laundry." OK... but when there is stuff in the machines, rather than helping out by folding, it gets left in a mess either on top of the dryer or dumped into a basket without a fold in sight. There have even been occaisions when the entire wet lumpy mass gets left and I have to start all over again!

When I suggest that perhaps he could help by folding the laundry rather than leaving it in a complete mess, which makes my job longer and a pain, he looks at me as if I have three heads and speaking Klingon.

Again I ask... are we in a dorm room or a family? Somehow things get turned around and it's my fault that the laundry is a mess.

A classic POOG

I have visions of turning my kitchen cupboards into a Fort Knox of doors with triple bolted locks all labelled - Dad's fibre, Mom's yoghurt, Childrens' frosted flakes! sigh..

There must be something to this male menopause thing. His mood swings, his crabbiness, his need to feel young and party all night with the boys, it's no small wonder that women everywhere want these men out the door!

I've learned not to bitch. There is no point. The therapist taught me a lot. There is about a seven second satisfaction thing and then it's done and the anger kicks in instead. I've learned to do the zen thing. Just let it roll and I hope he realizes how stupidly selfish the "get your own groceries" statement was. But I can also see how a completely ignoramous remark like that could be the straw that breaks a camel's back on a bad day. Jack assed size.

I am not going anywhere... yet. My kids love their dad and I won't have that parenting shuffle going on. I'll just keep living my life and observe his and see where we end up.

Ultimately, it's not a great situation, but at this point in my life I am not interested in being a single parent. We keep a pretty civil rein on things and we are "friends" enough that I know the kids are not tuned to any problems...

However, I have taken care of business. I know what I'd have to do if I couldn't stand it any longer.

POOG indeed!