Money, Money, Money

Money is one of the big things that couples fight about, right? Yes. I'm right. Admit it. You two argue about money just like everybody else. Anytime we've got two people with finite resources and infinite ways to spend them, we get tension. So, what to do about it?  Make a plan.

Men: in many cases, I think this is your job. There are a lot of women who do the day-to-day financial managing. In a lot of cases, I think they do a better job than their male counterparts! But, what I have noticed during many conversations is that lots of women don't like to come up with the plan--especially during times of transition where perhaps some things need to be cut. So, let's play to our strengths. In my family, this works best when I make a preliminary plan. I make decision about what I think we should cut and I make a plan that works, i.e. a plan that spends 100% of the budget, or less.  Then, Mrs O and I can sit down and talk about it together.

Why is this my job? Mrs O can budget, right? Yes. She does a fine job at it. Making budget cutting decisions is stressful for her, though. I can give her a gift by absorbing that stress. I call it slaying her dragons(with little boys at home, we frequently have a 'knight in shining armor' theme!)  By slaying dragons, I mean that I can respond to the things that cause her tension.  It's not that she can't do it herself, but simply that she feels supported, protected, and secure if I respond to her fears and stressors on her behalf.

Man of the house: irrational fears

Real men wear pink, right?  What about carrying a purse?  Pink shirts and purses. . . those are a few of the other things I find that cause even the burliest of men to quiver. 

I do have a pink shirt, and I wear if often.  Mrs. O says she really likes pink on me.  So, I'm stuck. . . not really stuck, but I'm ambivalent.  On the one hand, I want Mrs. O to like what she sees when she sees me.  I want to be attractive to her.  If she likes pink, then I will wear it.  I confess, however, that it took me a long, long time to be comfortable in my pink shirt.  I've almost worn it out and just now I'm at the point where I don't feel like everyone is looking at me all day long when I wear it.  I really did feel that way for a long time.  I was suspicious of every glance. . . surely, they're all thinking, "Can you believe that guy is wearing a pink shirt?"

Or, what about if she asks me to carry her purse?  There have been a few situations where Mrs. O has run to the little girls room and asked me to hold her purse. . . so there I am.  Standing.  Holding a purse.  Once again, the looks.  The glances.  I'm suspicious of all of them.  I feel the desire to defend myself: This isn't mine.  It's hers.  She's just. . .

*sigh*

. . . nevermind.

Man of the house: irrational fears

You know how women sometimes like to have the kids wear matching shirts, or dresses or whatever?  I mean, this is big, right?  It's worth an extra load of laundry to make sure everyone's matching article is clean so we can all wear it at the same time...it's like family photo time, except it's just another day.

This one may not be as universal...I don't really know.  I do know, that if my clothing matches the kids clothing, it makes me feel like a kid.  I don't like it either when I match Mrs. O.  I don't exactly know how to articulate how I feel when that happens...I just know that I don't like it. 

My initial temptation is to ask, "What's the big deal?  Why does she like this so much?" 

But then, I have to ask myself, "What's the big deal?  Why do I dislike this so much?"

Man of the house: irrational fears

Ok, can we just be honest with each other?  Men have some irrational fears. . .at least, I do.  I'm afraid of 'the aisle.'  I don't even like to think about walking down the aisle.  I know I'm not the only one.  This avoidance is nearly uniform across the male gender.  I know this because I see lots of men in all other areas of the grocery store. . .yeah, the grocery store aisle.  I don't believe I have ever seen another man in this aisle.  Sometimes, I wonder if I'm the only man who has ever ventured there.
I remember the first time I went down that aisle.  I agreed to go.  It seemed like the right thing to do until I got there.  How tough could it be?  Why is it that I step down the aisle and it instantly feels like it's 300 degrees in there.  Ugh, I didn't realize there were so many choices. . . Super Thin?  Extra long?  Ultra Absorbant, Active, Over-nighters with Wings???  I just have to pick something.  If I just keep standing here, someone is going to see me. 

Ahhh, regular!  Here we go.  That must be what I need. . . I mean, I don't need them. . . Nevermind.
What am I so afraid of?  They're not going to hurt me, but just looking at the logo gives me hives. . .