I’m too nice. Really, I am. I try to make everybody happy…often to the detriment of my own happiness.

Over the years close friends and family members have told me: “If you try to please everyone, you’ll never be able to please yourself.” True advice, but, coincidentally, these same advice givers seemed to be referring to “everybody else” and not them. They know my “pleasing flaw” and they use it to their advantage…this I am learning the hard way over and over again!

A recent “pleasing” experience turned out to be not so pleasant. My husband and I received three invitations for wonderful gatherings all on the same date. I RSVPed to the first invitation and when the second and third invites arrived I was disappointed that we couldn’t attend these events, but…oh well! (Why does it happen that you can go for weeks with no plans and then there are multiple invitations on the same day?)

I called the hostesses of the two other events and extended our apology that we couldn’t come because we already had a commitment. These hostesses—both good friends—expressed their disappointment along with urgings for us to “at least stop by.” Then both began campaigns to get us to come if only briefly. (I didn’t know we were that crucial as necessary party ingredients!)

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Posted by Sandra Dalka-Prysby at 01:47 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

It’s summer wedding season. Thousands of brides and grooms are going to the altar to make vows of “love” and “forever.” Most are totally happy with their marriage choice. Others, however, are expecting some changes from the other for the better. They will soon learn the hard way that their spouse will probably not change. This is the reason that “for better or worse” is part of the marriage vows. I have learned that my husband is basically the same man that I exchanged wedding vows with 30 years ago. Luckily, he is mostly good…but!

I remember thinking that once we got married, my husband would be more sensitive. Wrong!!! To this day he often forgets the little things that make me happy, such as Diet Coke, folding the towels and calling when he’s going to be late coming home. He drinks the last Diet Coke and never replaces it; he has, as yet, folded towels or anything else but his own laundry, and more-than-not he forgets to call when he’s running late.

On my wedding day I had visions of my husband helping me clean the house THE WAY I LIKE IT TO BE CLEANED! The first month of marriage—maybe it was only the first week—he tried to help clean according to my instructions, but soon he returned to his “once over lightly” style and then resumed a prone position on the couch to watch a sporting event. He didn’t care that I had hours to go to make his castle shine. (To be fair, he never minds helping when I ask him. It’s just that his definition of “cleaning” is so different than mine.)

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Posted by Sandra Dalka-Prysby at 05:36 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

I don’t know why I continue to be optimistic about most things in my life. I guess I’m just a “Pollyanna” who believes that everything will always be fine. I’ve learned the hard way, however, that no matter how positive my beliefs, things don’t and won’t always go the way that I would like.

A recent example of things not turning out the way I expected is my recent knee surgery. My husband and daughter vowed to take care of me during my recovery. Although they have failed in the past with their promises, I just knew that I would be in capable hands when I returned home from the hospital. In less than 24 hours I learned how wrong I was with my expectations. I discovered—for the umpteenth time—that I was living with two very crappy caretakers! Their insensitivity astounded me…but, if the truth be told, I should have known. Thirty years of marriage and 24 years of motherhood to my daughter, the baby of the family, should have taught me something. Ahhh! But there’s always hope! This time, I just knew, things would be different.

My husband and daughter were somewhat caring at first. My husband even offered to stay home from work—a rarity—to attend to my needs. Once he got me comfortably settled in bed, he was gone. No he didn’t leave the house. He went to the far reaches of our domain to make phone calls for work. If I needed anything, I was to call him on his cell. The next four hours he was missing in action. Never did he make an appearance in the bedroom to see if I needed something.

Continue reading "Crappy Caretakers!" »

Posted by Sandra Dalka-Prysby at 09:56 PM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)