Hey dude, that's my toothbrush!

There’s a battle brewing in the BIBI household. (No surprise there since there are 9 people on which you can choose which toe to step on).

It has to do with space. Personal space. Lots and lots of personal space.

I want it, I need it, and I’ve got to have it.

Especially dealing with my closet. It’s a pretty darn big walk-in closet that I share with the hubby, but he has limited room to put his stuff, because of my ‘stuff’.

Why? you ask. Well, let’s just say that I didn’t hold up to my side of the bargain when I said I would clean out my side of the closet. Now my side of the closet consists of his side too.

Selfish right? I don’t think so. It’s true some of us women tend to collect more clothes than the stores that we shop at have on their racks, but who’s counting?

The hubby is! That’s why there is a battle. He has decided he is going to stake his claim as if this the land rushes of the 18^th century. He has made a statement that he is here to stay and has moved my ‘stuff’ over in an attempt to stake what is rightfully his. Okay true that, but he started it.

Day 1: “Hon, what is this strange drum doing on my side of the closet? I specifically said that all of the shelving on the right side of the closet is essential to my shirts that must be kept a certain way so that I can find them in case the light doesn’t work one morning.”

“Have you ever thought about changing the light bulbs? You know you’re not that short.”

Okay; I’m 5’5”, one inch taller than a petite person and he claims I can reach a bulb two feet above my head. Um.. whatever!!

Day 2: “Hon, where did these pile of shirts come from? And their on my side of the closet! What’d you do, hit a garage sale on the way home from work?”

“NO! They are my shirts that YOU keep putting on the floor under YOUR bookshelf. I’ve decided to put them on the shelves that we both decided that would be mine. Remember?”

Point taken.

Day 3: “Babe, where did these shoes come from? I don’t remember these. And you have 7 pairs combined with mine. When’d you come up with that brilliant idea?”

“The day that we moved in. We are BOTH to share that shelf that I bought, not just you!"

Oh! The battle was on. He had no right to bring up the past.

So for the next few days, I began to put up little post-it notes in different colored ink on everything in our room and bathroom.

MY PILLOW

MY SIDE OF THE BED

MY NIGHTSTAND

MY BOOKS

MY PENS

MY PENCILS

MY DUMBELLS

MY TOOTHBRUSH

MY TAMPONS

MY HAIRBRUSH

MY FOOT OF THE BED

Let’s just say, my poor hubby wore his battle wounds proudly. I however, pouted like a little baby and had do endure hubby’s confident grin that spoke volumes, and proved that I’m a selfish little brat with no intention of sharing what is rightfully both of ours.

I guess that’s what happens when you begin to mature and grow. In a world full of differences, you begin to see that fighting over little things like clothes, shoes and drums is so small in comparison to what some people don’t have all over the world. Some people don’t have a home, a place to lay their head down, a spouse to cuddle with, or even a family to share the holidays with.

I for one should count my blessings that I have seven kids who adore me, a husband who still thinks I’m sexy even though I could stand to lose a few pounds, and learn some etiquette on how to share and work together as one.

Yes, even at my age I’m ashamed to say, I still have a lot to learn, a lot of maturing to do.

UGH! This self-realization can put a damper on your life if you’re not willing to acknowledge it. You can only change what you acknowledge.

I’ll move his clothes tomorrow.