Oh, the frail male ego

Predictably, one of the most frustrating aspects of my MS has been the necessary increasing dependence on other people for things I used to do happily, and with ease, myself. Particularly hard is having to turn various household tasks over to Ben.
I like to think that we work well together, but the truth of it is that both of us are slightly controlling, and we really *don't* work that well together. I think we do a great job, mostly, of dividing and conquering the things that need to get done. But when our realms of control begin to overlap, frustration ensues.
Take this weekend, for example. I designated Saturday as a "fix-it day" around the house. There have been a few things breaking recently that needed to get fixed. These kinds of things are easy to put off, and before you know it, the house is falling apart. Anyway, we needed to fix the upstairs bathroom cabinet door which had fallen off, replace a door knob, replace the wall shelf that Mosey pulled out of the wall when he tried to climb the shelves to get at a stuffed animal, fix the kitchen cabinet door that Brigham broke, replace a piece of floor trim in the master bedroom, and fix the rope swing in the backyard. I think that was all that was on our list.
I like to think I am meticulous when doing home fix-it stuff. Attention to detail and taking the time to do it right are really important, I think. Ben, on the other hand, is *not* a detail person. Just fix it fast and move on to more enjoyable things is typically his approach. Of course, he does not enjoy home-improvement stuff at all, and I do, which might account for our different approaches.
Well, he very adeptly replaced the upstairs bathroom cabinet door, and then moved on to the shelf in the upstairs TV room. These were shelves that I had installed by placing dry-wall anchors in the wall, and then mounting the shelves on brackets. Pretty sturdy, but not sturdy enough to withstand the weight of a set of encyclopedias *and* a 5 year old boy. Anyway, I've installed several shelves like this, and know exactly how to do the drywall anchors and feel pretty confident that I can do it right. Ben took a look and decided that he could just put "a bunch of superglue" (his words) on the outside of the anchor and then stick it back in the hole in the wall, and then just put the shelf back on.
I try to be very respectful of Ben's ideas, I truly, truly do. Really! But the male ego is exceedingly fragile. I told him I thought that might work, but I'd really like to go upstairs and take a look just so I could be confident in that plan. I was working on some Relief Society stuff at the moment and needed only 5 more minutes to finish up before I could go upstairs and look at it. "Well, if it's going to be five minutes, just forget it!" Ben was obviously extremely offended that I would express even the hint of doubt about his plan. He's usually happy to help me get up the stairs if ever I need to, but in this case it "wasn't worth his time" to help me get up the stairs. He was obviously mad.
Ugh.
I really don't know what to do in these situations. I did manage to drag myself up the stairs and saw immediately that the superglue plan would not work. There were big holes where the drywall anchors had been ripped out. Superglue, which can admittedly solve a variety of problems, was not going to cut it. We either needed to drill new holes and put in new anchors, or go to Lowes and get some toggle bolts.
Ben was just plain offended! I don't understand it! I have LOTS of experience in all sorts of home-repair stuff. He has almost none. It's no shame for him to not know that supergluing drywall anchors back into ripped out holes wasn't going to work. Why is it so embarrassing to concede that someone else might actually know better? If I was trying to do something on the computer and he told me that it probably wasn't the best way, that he knew a better and faster way, I would *not* be offended. I would be grateful for the expertise. It's just got to be a male ego sort of thing.
Well, he pouted the rest of the day. Seriously, the rest of the day.
Today, after church, he asked if I wanted him to make lunch. I told him I was happy to make it, if he could help me. He wanted to "make some ramen noodles and throw in a bunch of stuff." I asked him what kind of stuff he wanted to throw in? This question was very offensive and he got all huffy and said, ok, fine, just make whatever you want. Argh! I don't *need* to have my way in this, I just wanted to know what stuff he wanted to "throw in!" I had the ingredients to make tuna pasta, which the boys like, so I suggested that. "I don't like tuna pasta, just do you know." Ok, fine. He was still willing to help me make it. Or so he said. I asked him to put some water on to boil. He got out our HUGEST pot. This is like a canning pot, it is huge. I said, "We have a smaller pot, the water will take forever to boil in that." So he puts it back and gets out our SMALLEST sauce pan. Ugh. Is he doing this on purpose? So I said, "Why don't you use the medium green pot?" He shoves the small sauce pan back in the cupboard and says, "See, whenever I try to help you, I can never do anything right!" And he was done. So I made it myself. Which is ok, but it is really hard for me to stand for that long, and it would have been so much easier and faster and smoother if he would have just helped me.
I just needed a helper. Sometimes two in the kitchen *is* too many. All I wanted was for him to help me. I wasn't trying to be controlling. Is it controlling of me to tell him the kind of pot he should use? Maybe it is. I thought I was being very nice and calm, but maybe I wasn't. Maybe he's as frustrated as I am about my situation, and it comes out as very low tolerance for anything resembling "bossing."
But seriously, this is why Eve was the "help meet" for Adam, and not the other way round. Men just can't do it.