How I Annoy My Husband: Nagging and Nudging at Our House

 

I am really good at what I like to call “reminding” my husband to do things.  Paul has another for it: “nagging.” My Dad would often tell me to “stop being a nudge.”  The definition of the Yiddish word nudge is: “one who pesters and annoys with persistent complaining.”

 I think part of the problem is Paul and I have a different time table for getting things done. I like to get things done as soon as I notice they need to be done.  I typically keep a list of chores for us both on the kitchen table and one of my favorite things to do is cross something off that list. I often cross it off and put a check nearby it. Sometimes I even draw a smiley face. I feel relieved as the list gets shorter and when everything is finally done, I tear it up with a self-satisfied riiiiiip. Of course, I immediately start a new list so my relief is short-lived.

Paul likes to wait and doesn’t seem too worried about shortening the list. I wouldn’t objectively call him a procrastinator but compared to when I like to get things done, everyone is a procrastinator.

Here is an actual recent conversation.

“Sweetie, can you please vacuum today?” (By “today” I really mean “now.”)

“OK. I’ll do it soon.”

“But sweetie, there’s cat hair all over the living room rug and it’s gross. Can   you please do it?"

“I’ll do it later.”

“Don’t forget, ok?”

“I won’t. You’re nagging me.”

          This continues for a few minutes until I finally give up. Eventually Paul will usually do it. But sometimes he forgets.  It’s not earth-shattering, but I can’t cross that chore off my list and it bothers me.

Here’s another example.

“Babe, can you please take the patio chairs out of the shed?”

“Ok. I’ll do it soon.”

“But I really want to sit outside.”

“I’ll do it later.”

“Don’t forget, ok?”

I won’t. You’re nagging me.”

You get the point.

Sometimes I wonder if he’s purposely waiting longer to do a chore because of my constant reminders.  I think, if I keep reminding him, he might take longer to do it. I know I should stop, but I can’t help myself. 

Can a person be addicting to nagging? Maybe there should there be a self-help group called “Naggers Anonymous” I could go to meetings and get a sponsor.  I wonder if the members would nag each other.

“Can you help me set up the chairs now?”

 “Don’t forget to pass the collection plate.”

 “Remember to say the Serenity Prayer.”

” Don’t forget to come to the next meeting.”

I wish I was more like Paul. I exhaust myself getting things done quickly or stressing about them.  He doesn’t seem concerned when things don’t get done.

I also nag Paul about how and what he eats.  Paul eats quickly as if he’s worried about someone or something taking away his food at any moment. My dog used to eat that way.  Chomp, chomp, gulp, gulp.  My husband shovels food into his mouth at such a fast pace I can barely see his hand moving.  It’s like a sped-up movie. Of course I nag him about that.

Our meal conversation usually sounds like this:

“Sweetie, slow down!  You’re almost done and I’ve barely taken my first bite.”

Paul will make a sheepish grin and put his shovel, I mean fork, down near his plate. 

“See, I’m eating slowly.”

“Good job.”  I say while rolling my eyes.

Maybe he has a reason to eat so fast. When we eat different foods, I often say, “Can I have a taste?” This annoys Paul because he believes he never has enough food in the first place.  But he does give me a tiny bite about the size of half a green pea. “Thanks a lot” I tell him.

 I know he would be far happier eating at his usual pace. After all, one day I might actually grab his plate and eat all his food before he’s had a chance to finish it.

Paul is also a member of the clean plate society. No matter how much food I give him, he finishes it all. I used to put the serving dish in the middle of the table, but I noticed him finishing that off too. So now I give him what I call “a human portion” and put the rest of the food in the refrigerator. Of course he always complains there isn’t enough. “Is that all?”

I also nag Paul about what he eats.  He has pre-diabetes and at the end of the day I used to write down the carbohydrates he’d eaten to help him keep track of them. But soon he asked me to stop doing it. I don’t know why.  When he talks about ice cream and cookies on a daily basis, I say, “You don’t need that.”  I’ve begun hearing Paul say it to himself.  I guess I’ve really gotten into his head!