Funky Town Complaints

I'm back in a hormone funk this week.  For those wishing for *TMI* -- I'm ovulating and I don't think I do that every month anymore.  It's playing havoc with all things ... sleep, mood, mood, mood, mood.  Hah!

I was having a pity party because I'm preparing a picnic for the family to celebrate DIL's birthday and (as usual) there's very little I can eat.  I realize this sounds MAD since I'm the one making the stuff.  No one wants to eat what I can eat -- I've tried.  I have a few things in the mix, but nothing much.

The pity party is because I have to prepare EVERYTHING.  I'm left with little energy to figure out something fun for myself.  If I partake in what I make, I have real-deal physical consequences.  No one notices.  No one cares.  No one helps.  See -- pity party.

Also, due to supply chain issues and living in the country, our grocery store didn't have any of the GF stuff I needed.  Why did I go to that store?  Because hubby needed some stuff and "my" stores don't carry Diet Dr. Pepper and the likes.  Taking one for the team (him).

After making a couple of things, I decided to make hubby and me a treat.  Ted Lasso recipe for milk biscuits.  I made them happily and made them GF.  I was excited to give him the little surprise.

Hang on ... getting to the big deal complaint ...

Hubby comes down, eats the cookies (loves them) and asks what's for dinner.  He takes care of his regular meals because he REFUSES to try anything I make that's not meat or pasta.  I told him I have tomato soup, lentil soup or bean burgers.

He asks me to start making him dinners he likes.  What in hell's name?!?!?

I asked him to meet me halfway, try some of the things, make some effort himself, etc.  We had a heated conversation.  All is okay today and I got to vent and we're compromising (aka I'm agreeing to help him out without an obligation of daily meals).  

Here's why I was so upset.  I'm trying very hard to keep myself together amid food sensitivities and physical changes and emotional upset with NO HELP.  I'm doing this on my own.  As I said before, no one notices I can't eat anything.  Let's get pizza (but no GF pizza).  He doesn't want to hear about it which I understand, but if I don't talk about it, he doesn't "remember" I'm going through anything.  Vicious circle.

Some days it's hard to keep it all together and feel like I'm trying to problem solve and take care of myself alone.  Then he steps up and ask me to TAKE CARE OF HIM (remember the haircuts?!?).  

Setting this boundary is poop since it makes me upset and guilty, but I need to have my back.  His understanding or not is work he has to do -- another thing that's not my job.  

That's where I sit this morning.  A bit better for talking it out with him, holding a boundary ... but, still, crap in a handbag kind of feeling.  Hopefully, a solid morning routine will set up my day better.

Making picnic food AND a vintage carrot cake recipe (don't know why it's vintage other than it's an old recipe) AND off to another grocery store to find things on my wish list.

Have a good one.  Later gators.