Rotton couple of days. DH and I decided to celebrate V-day the day after, b/c we both get paid on Fridays. Everything was running smoothly, till we're leaving the resturant and the procreation subject came up. Wait, I think I was teasing him about baby-talking to our cat and asked if that's how he'd talk to his kids?

DH, having had a few at dinner, says something to the effect of "you, of all people" and "depressed all the time" and that *he'd* "have to stop having temper tantrums now" to avoid scaring the kid.

I told him I resented that. I'm not depressed all the time and I'm certainly not the most depressed person on the planet. He told me that I made it sound as though I was–which is B.S., since half the time, I HIDE IT from him.

Anyway, it escalated into a fight wherein he said some pretty shitty things to me, walked away and then pretended the fight was over. Not wanting to be the hanger-on who never let's things go, I eventually tried to be the bigger person and let it blow over for the time being. I went to bed pissed, didn't sleep half the night, spent the entire next day trying not to be a resentful wife. We worked out together and the endorphins helped me hate his guts a little less.

Today, I spent the day alone, and felt a little better. Worked out, ran a few arrands, cleaned my bathroom, planned out a couple new recipes I wanted to try. I felt like I could let those things slide until the subject came up again.

DH came home and immediately ruined my mood with little critical comments that might not have made that big of a difference if I wasn't still bearing the festering wounds of our last fight.

I kept trying to get myself past something that hurt too badly to let go. Finally, after dinner, he started asking me what was wrong and I told him that I didn't want to talk about it. He said, okay. I took about half an hour to get my thoughts in order and finally sat down to talk to him–knowing full well that no matter how reasonable I am being when I sit down to talk, he will turn it into a full-blown fight.

Always happens. Never fails. DH and I CANNOT have a sit-down discussion of any problem without him losing his temper and turning it back around on me. I can word things just so it doesn't sound as though I'm attacking him–doesn't matter.

More shitty things were said, utimatums given. When I called him out on his dirty habit of giving me ultimatums and empty threats, he got mad and walked out the door–refusing to hear anything else I had to say. I figured he'd leave for 5 minutes and come back to sulk in the bedroom for a while (he's big on grand gestures with nothing behind them).

I actually went into the bedroom and started getting clothes together. I intended on being gone when he came back. When I started to pocket my phone, which had spend the entire day on my dresser, I noticed it was dead and stopped to plug it in so I could call my sister and ask her to take me for the night.

Something like 2 minutes after he'd left, I heard DH's car and threw my cloths back into the basket. Guess I didn't have the guts to walk out with him watching. By that time, my phone had turned on and started chirping, due to a couple voicemails I had from earlier.

DH walked into the bedroom, behind me and appoloized for everything–the mean things he'd said two nights ago and the unreasonable ultimatums. He said, he was sorry for sinking that low, etc. I thanked him and spent some time alone to regroup and litsten to my messages.

The first was my mom. The second was from work–I was supposed to have been at work today and got my days mixed up. I forgot I had switched with another woman and had been referencing my old, non-updated schedule.

Fuck.

I didn't even GET the message until 45 mins after the store closed. So now I have to call in tomorrow and beg forgiveness or whatever (I've never missed an entire shift before, so perhaps they won't give me too much hell). Except, DH has a rare day off and I'll have to do it while he's in the shower.

I wanted to confide in him about what happened (I'm so worried over it), but as much as I always hope he'll be cool about these things, he almost never is. We just made up, and I'm too exhausted for another fight.

This, folks, is what it's like when two adults with ADHD live together. Fun, isn't it? My (lack of) memory and his tantrums.