Hush little baby, don't say a word

I haven't forgotten you. I have been a little tied up with my 37 year-old new born.

He had shoulder surgery back in August, the 10th to be exact. I call him a newborn, because I am expected to drop everything and help him at a moment's notice. Just like the cry of a newborn. The first two weeks were the worst. And to this day, he still does not understand my only rule. "You have the right be in pain (angry, upset, sad, confused, whatever), but you do NOT have the right to be cruel." And day four, he simply was being cruel. I tried to leave the situation, but he had to, of course, follow me and continue to be cruel. One of my worst days on the job. I can handle wiping his butt, getting him food and beverage, helping him shower, getting him settled in bed, on the couch, in the car...but I cannot not handle being taken for granted, having my services being demanded and not appreciated and being criticized.

I know I agreed to "better or worse (God, knows I did for seven years!), in sickness and in health," but I did not agree to abuse. I'm not talking about physical abuse, but mental abuse and emotional abuse. He is the master of it and is in total denial of it. It is all me. It is how I percive it. How I think the way things are.

Yesterday was another doozy. I was exhausted. We have been going non-stop for three days. I had to drive him to various appointments and run errands (I have another story about THAT!). I was tired and wanted to stay home. No. We have to got get his meds. He "agreed" we go to the pharmacy and come back home (not after trying to guilt me into going to San Pedro to see his ailing grandmother in the hospital). Well, after going to the drug store and driving around, getting the car washed and the tires rotated and balanced, did we finally come home. And, of course, he was not very nice about it. When we finally get home, he starts wailing about how the garage door was ruined and the KIA's paint was ruined and I can't take care of a large house and we have to move.....blah blah blah. When I went back out to the grocery store to get baking potatoes, I didn't want to come home. I wanted to point the car the opposite direction of the house and keep driving. Like an idiot, I came home. After a few more short words at each other, I eventually put the jerk in his place and we got along again.

After this experience, I do not ever want another baby. I have one that can talk, with an opinion, and I don't like it.