I caught something.
My stomach has been killing me since Saturday.
This has made for a less-than-productive week so far....
Last week, though?
Was pretty great.
The self-imposed schedule worked out in all its type-A splendor.
I got up early, I showered, I. got. shit. DONE.
Getting up that early kicked my ass, but it was kinda worth it just to feel so accomplished at the end of the day ANNNNND be dressed!
I felt like a whole new world was being opened up to me!
Then Saturday's gut-rot hit, and I started to fall sorely behind.
Crap! Can't lose this momentum already....
Today, I was determined to get back on schedule!! If I publish this post, I will be. Squee! (it's the little things)
However, My husband is determined to thwart my new early-rising lifestyle change....
He doesn't want me to get up at the Dawn of Man.
He wants me to sleep as much as possible.
My health, my CFS, blah, blah, blah....
He's loving, and sweet, and concerned, but he is also annoying.
He turns my alarm off!
I have tried to explain the method to my madness, but he says that I am just being stubborn.
I say that I'm just trying to stay SANE.
He may not care about squalor and mountain ranges of laundry, but I do!
And while he is an amazing husband in many respects, his organizational/housekeeping skills are not among the top ten....or twenty, really....
Sigh.
We need to find a compromise, or our son needs to take daily 4 hour naps.
Not sure either will happen.
I need to go to bed.
That Dawn of Man approaches far more quickly than one might think.
If my alarm stays on, that is.
Showing posts with label Husbands. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Husbands. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Thursday, March 3, 2011
You don't appreciate my APPRECIATING!
Marriage?
It's hard.
[Aren't you so happy that I guide you through these earth-shattering epiphanies?]
It frightens me because I'm constantly struck with how many people just don't realize that.
And that even though I do, I'm still taken aback sometimes...
The Spouse Unit and I have been arguing a lot lately.
Not in the "We're heading for divorce" kinda way, but just a ton of annoyed/irritated bickering.
Which gets real old, real fast and leads to more fully-fleshed angries.
Yesterday morning?
I said something that I thought was helpful.
He snapped.
I snapped back.
Here.We.Go.AGAIN.
Seriously???
I had HAD it.
I didn't talk to him all day.
(We usually text/talk throughout the day)
I needed to calm down and organize my thoughts.
Why are we so freakin' crabby?
What is HIS problem?
What is MY problem?
WHAT IS HIS PROBLEM???
So I fumed all day.
I decided, finally, that I was feeling
Unappreciated. Disrespected.
And also?
Like The Bad Guy.
All the time.
This really made me sad.
I work really hard at our lives. At our marriage. At raising our son.
My main goal in life?
To ensure that my husband and son are well-cared for and happy.
That our family is happy.
That is what makes ME happy.
So the fact that I was feeling like my Husband might be seeing me as the "Harpy Wife?"
HUGE BUMMER.
and I was pissed.
I am a fantastical wife, damn it!
What the HELL does he want from me?
I couldn't be more awesome, and he couldn't be more Lucky!
I am all sorts of appreciative of his hard work, how can he not appreciate me, appreciating that?
[...and Cue Spiral...]
Ahem.
We put O to bed. I pulled the We Need to Talk card.
Which he hates. All men hate it. I'm aware.
But we really did need to talk.
After not getting anywhere for a while, we finally realized that we were both struggling in our roles.
As a Wife/Mother/Adult and Husband/Father/Adult
Specifically--how those roles were reflected to and on one another as a couple.
Make sense? Hopefully.
We also figured out that while we both thought we we being all appreciative, helpful and respectful to the other?
It wasn't being received that way, a lot of the time.
This sorta scared us.
Ummm, holy shit.
Communication in our marriage is TERRIBLE. We.ARE.DOOOOMED.
But notsomuch, really.
We just needed to have a couple reality checks and get back on track.
In addition (and probably most importantly), we needed to be frank about some outside factors affecting our attitudes, which would directly affect our "hearing."....
Frankly?
Living on a shoe-stringy budget (and all the stress that goes with it) is hard on your marriage
Living with Chronic pain (and the frustration and helplessness on both sides) is hard on your marriage.
Living without medication (ADD for him, Depression for me) is hard on your marriage.
Living with your in-laws (however awesome they may be and however grateful you ARE) is hard on your marriage.
Trying to be a new parent in that environment? You guessed it! Haaaard on the marriage.
We will make it out of, and past these obstacles eventually, but it's going to be awhile.
We are working, we are trying, we are hoping, we are waiting.
Waiting for the tides to turn in our favor.
The wait weighs on us both, heavily.
The wait and the worry burdens our hearts.
Mostly out of concern for the other. And our son.
But those burdens can chafe once in awhile, and I don't know about you?
But,
chafing makes me cuh-rank-eeee.
I think the same can be said for my Darling Husband.
Yep.
It's hard.
[Aren't you so happy that I guide you through these earth-shattering epiphanies?]
It frightens me because I'm constantly struck with how many people just don't realize that.
And that even though I do, I'm still taken aback sometimes...
The Spouse Unit and I have been arguing a lot lately.
Not in the "We're heading for divorce" kinda way, but just a ton of annoyed/irritated bickering.
Which gets real old, real fast and leads to more fully-fleshed angries.
Yesterday morning?
I said something that I thought was helpful.
He snapped.
I snapped back.
Here.We.Go.AGAIN.
Seriously???
I had HAD it.
I didn't talk to him all day.
(We usually text/talk throughout the day)
I needed to calm down and organize my thoughts.
Why are we so freakin' crabby?
What is HIS problem?
What is MY problem?
WHAT IS HIS PROBLEM???
So I fumed all day.
I decided, finally, that I was feeling
Unappreciated. Disrespected.
And also?
Like The Bad Guy.
All the time.
This really made me sad.
I work really hard at our lives. At our marriage. At raising our son.
My main goal in life?
To ensure that my husband and son are well-cared for and happy.
That our family is happy.
That is what makes ME happy.
So the fact that I was feeling like my Husband might be seeing me as the "Harpy Wife?"
HUGE BUMMER.
and I was pissed.
I am a fantastical wife, damn it!
What the HELL does he want from me?
I couldn't be more awesome, and he couldn't be more Lucky!
I am all sorts of appreciative of his hard work, how can he not appreciate me, appreciating that?
[...and Cue Spiral...]
Ahem.
We put O to bed. I pulled the We Need to Talk card.
Which he hates. All men hate it. I'm aware.
But we really did need to talk.
After not getting anywhere for a while, we finally realized that we were both struggling in our roles.
As a Wife/Mother/Adult and Husband/Father/Adult
Specifically--how those roles were reflected to and on one another as a couple.
Make sense? Hopefully.
We also figured out that while we both thought we we being all appreciative, helpful and respectful to the other?
It wasn't being received that way, a lot of the time.
This sorta scared us.
Ummm, holy shit.
Communication in our marriage is TERRIBLE. We.ARE.DOOOOMED.
But notsomuch, really.
We just needed to have a couple reality checks and get back on track.
In addition (and probably most importantly), we needed to be frank about some outside factors affecting our attitudes, which would directly affect our "hearing."....
Frankly?
Living on a shoe-stringy budget (and all the stress that goes with it) is hard on your marriage
Living with Chronic pain (and the frustration and helplessness on both sides) is hard on your marriage.
Living without medication (ADD for him, Depression for me) is hard on your marriage.
Living with your in-laws (however awesome they may be and however grateful you ARE) is hard on your marriage.
Trying to be a new parent in that environment? You guessed it! Haaaard on the marriage.
We will make it out of, and past these obstacles eventually, but it's going to be awhile.
We are working, we are trying, we are hoping, we are waiting.
Waiting for the tides to turn in our favor.
The wait weighs on us both, heavily.
The wait and the worry burdens our hearts.
Mostly out of concern for the other. And our son.
But those burdens can chafe once in awhile, and I don't know about you?
But,
chafing makes me cuh-rank-eeee.
I think the same can be said for my Darling Husband.
Yep.
Monday, February 28, 2011
If He's Samson and HE'S Delilah, who am I??
Remember when I wrote this post about getting O's hair cut?
I'm fairly certain that by reading that post, it would become CLEAR to you
(or anyone who's literate)
that I am not ready to part with my son's locks.
My Dearest Spouse?
Didn't get the fucking memo.
He has been on my ass about cutting his hair since O turned 1. Even before.
It has been a weekly argument.
That always ends in tears.
Mine.
The last time we had the argument, I told him:
I am not ready. I love his hair. LOVE. I am not ready to cut it. AT ALL. I know it's long and shaggy, but I ADORE it that way. It's not hurting anybody! Leave me be. I will let you know when I am emotionally composed enough to cut.
Maybe that is over the top, but I could give a shit.
And why the fuck this was such an issue for my husband I'll never know. He's not a rigid guy about hair or dress etc., usually...
The whole thing was really pissing me off.
Then this weekend rolls around, and I had anticipated staying in.
O was sick, and we had already canceled all of our weekend plans, so as not to infect anyone else.
Movies, and Comfies, and Snuggling! Yay!
People?
Instead?
Sobbing and Fighting and Shearing, is what I got.
Husband announces to me, late Saturday afternoon, that we are taking O to get his hair cut.
Ummm, no we are fucking not. The baby is not feeling well. We are.NOT.
Husband says: Yes we are! And we're bringing my mom!
Are you shitting me?
He is not, friends. He is serious.
We fight. It is obvious to anyone with a pulse, that I am not happy.
And he's using his innocent mother as a human shield?
Poor form, Husby. POOR.
I do NOT want this. I do not agree to this.
But, I feel badgered to death, I am tired of arguing. It is obvious, that on this point, my usually sweet partner has a mental block to hearing me on this issue.
So we will go. For Fuck's Sake, we will go.
But this is just a TRIM. As in his bangs.
So that they are out of his eyes.
(as that seems to be the monumental force behind this movement)
Fine.
I was promised that THAT would be all.
His curls or wispies would not be harmed.
Outright LIES, readers. LIIIIIIIES.
We get to the hair place....
It's brightly colored and has rocket ships.
WooFuckingHoo.
Do you know what I see?
A bunch of little ones getting sheared and sobbing.
I try not to meltdown.
My husband is trying to cajole me.
It will not work. Do not kid yourself Senor.
I again, make him promise a trim...
It's our turn.
She straps him into his rocket.
The tears start to well...
She puts the smock on.
Tears are rolling...
She asks what we want.
I am sobbing.
Yes, I really was sobbing. As I may have mentioned?
I FUCKING LOVE HIS HAIR.
DO NOT TOUCH IT.
I couldn't form a sentence....other than to say: I don't want to cut it.
Instead of stopping right then and there? Which is what I would have done?
She asks my husband what he wants.
Really?!!
Instead of saying:
Just a bang trim, Thanks!
He starts talking about the back and sides.
They agree on a cut similar to a boy that just left.
With barely any hair.
WHAT THE LIVING FUCK?
I can't even say anything because I am so irate. Oh, and sobbing. Lest we forget that gorgeous piece of public humiliation....
I try to croak out that I just want his bangs cut....please don't touch the rest, but she is already busy snipping away.
That traitorous bastard I married?
He's happily snapping pictures.
I am still sobbing AND trying to blow bubbles to keep O calm.
[BTW, sobbing and blowing, in any arena? Doesn't mix. A helpful hint from me to you.]
The cut is done.
It's awful.
It's very Slingblade-meets-Toddler bowl cut, with a mullet starter kit in the back.
(only worse.)
I look at him and just cry more.
My husband now realizes that the has made a grave mistake.
I can see it on his face.
This allows me to make the transition from heartbroken to livid.
I was already at my boiling point before we got there and this sent me over the edge....
My MIL takes the baby so we can get some food.
I am a big believer in not fighting in public.
Honestly.
BUT.
We sit down to eat and I just LOSE MY SHIT.
Have you ever seen the couple at a restaurant who are fighting-- but quietly, through clenched teeth?
The harsh whispered screams?
We are that couple.
I am angry and heartbroken. I do not appreciate having my feelings in the matter totally disrespected. I am hurt/embarrassed that he just stood there while I sobbed. And? He let them butcher our son's beautiful hair.
He apologizes.
But he thinks I'm overreacting.
I can tell he thinks I'll get used to it...
We go home.
I am angry and hurt and silent.
Looking at the baby makes me cry.
I know that Husband feels awful, but I need time to process.
I tell him that I accept his apology, but that he needs to give me space.
But he won't.
He HATES when I am angry at him. It makes him want to crawl out of his skin.
While I understand, I try to explain that I am thoroughly hurt and angry on several levels...this is going to take more than a minute to subside....
Explaining and justifying on both sides turns to more fighting.
My temper is no longer in check.
I go take a long shower. With the door locked.
I get out a calmer me.
He is a more honestly apologetic him.
He finally sees what this was for me.
And he admits that he thinks O's hair cut is as AWFUL as I do, and that it was mistake to rush his first hair cut.
We kiss and make up....sorta.
I warn him that I am still not 100% over it.
Next morning?
It still makes me weepy to look at the baby's head.
Husband is desperate to save this somehow.
He decides that he will use the clippers to cut O's hair so that it is 1nch in length all over, evening it out.
You may be yelling at my obviously crazy husband:
BITCH, DON'T GO IN THERE!! You're gonna get killed!!
But you know what?
I LOVE IT.
I'm still mourning his curls and wispies, but his new 1950's-style little man 'do makes me smile....
[and forgive that traitorous bastard husband of mine....a little bit more. Hey, it's a process.]
Still?
Heartbroken.
His hair was awesome.
Spouseface owes me BIG TIME for our anniversary and my birthday.
BIG.
Ha!
I'm fairly certain that by reading that post, it would become CLEAR to you
(or anyone who's literate)
that I am not ready to part with my son's locks.
My Dearest Spouse?
Didn't get the fucking memo.
He has been on my ass about cutting his hair since O turned 1. Even before.
It has been a weekly argument.
That always ends in tears.
Mine.
The last time we had the argument, I told him:
I am not ready. I love his hair. LOVE. I am not ready to cut it. AT ALL. I know it's long and shaggy, but I ADORE it that way. It's not hurting anybody! Leave me be. I will let you know when I am emotionally composed enough to cut.
Maybe that is over the top, but I could give a shit.
And why the fuck this was such an issue for my husband I'll never know. He's not a rigid guy about hair or dress etc., usually...
The whole thing was really pissing me off.
Then this weekend rolls around, and I had anticipated staying in.
O was sick, and we had already canceled all of our weekend plans, so as not to infect anyone else.
Movies, and Comfies, and Snuggling! Yay!
People?
Instead?
Sobbing and Fighting and Shearing, is what I got.
Husband announces to me, late Saturday afternoon, that we are taking O to get his hair cut.
Ummm, no we are fucking not. The baby is not feeling well. We are.NOT.
Husband says: Yes we are! And we're bringing my mom!
Are you shitting me?
He is not, friends. He is serious.
We fight. It is obvious to anyone with a pulse, that I am not happy.
And he's using his innocent mother as a human shield?
Poor form, Husby. POOR.
I do NOT want this. I do not agree to this.
But, I feel badgered to death, I am tired of arguing. It is obvious, that on this point, my usually sweet partner has a mental block to hearing me on this issue.
So we will go. For Fuck's Sake, we will go.
But this is just a TRIM. As in his bangs.
So that they are out of his eyes.
(as that seems to be the monumental force behind this movement)
Fine.
I was promised that THAT would be all.
His curls or wispies would not be harmed.
Outright LIES, readers. LIIIIIIIES.
We get to the hair place....
It's brightly colored and has rocket ships.
WooFuckingHoo.
Do you know what I see?
A bunch of little ones getting sheared and sobbing.
I try not to meltdown.
My husband is trying to cajole me.
It will not work. Do not kid yourself Senor.
I again, make him promise a trim...
It's our turn.
She straps him into his rocket.
The tears start to well...
She puts the smock on.
Tears are rolling...
She asks what we want.
I am sobbing.
Yes, I really was sobbing. As I may have mentioned?
I FUCKING LOVE HIS HAIR.
DO NOT TOUCH IT.
I couldn't form a sentence....other than to say: I don't want to cut it.
Instead of stopping right then and there? Which is what I would have done?
She asks my husband what he wants.
Really?!!
Instead of saying:
Just a bang trim, Thanks!
He starts talking about the back and sides.
They agree on a cut similar to a boy that just left.
With barely any hair.
WHAT THE LIVING FUCK?
I can't even say anything because I am so irate. Oh, and sobbing. Lest we forget that gorgeous piece of public humiliation....
I try to croak out that I just want his bangs cut....please don't touch the rest, but she is already busy snipping away.
That traitorous bastard I married?
He's happily snapping pictures.
I am still sobbing AND trying to blow bubbles to keep O calm.
[BTW, sobbing and blowing, in any arena? Doesn't mix. A helpful hint from me to you.]
The cut is done.
It's awful.
It's very Slingblade-meets-Toddler bowl cut, with a mullet starter kit in the back.
(only worse.)
I look at him and just cry more.
My husband now realizes that the has made a grave mistake.
I can see it on his face.
This allows me to make the transition from heartbroken to livid.
I was already at my boiling point before we got there and this sent me over the edge....
My MIL takes the baby so we can get some food.
I am a big believer in not fighting in public.
Honestly.
BUT.
We sit down to eat and I just LOSE MY SHIT.
Have you ever seen the couple at a restaurant who are fighting-- but quietly, through clenched teeth?
The harsh whispered screams?
We are that couple.
I am angry and heartbroken. I do not appreciate having my feelings in the matter totally disrespected. I am hurt/embarrassed that he just stood there while I sobbed. And? He let them butcher our son's beautiful hair.
He apologizes.
But he thinks I'm overreacting.
I can tell he thinks I'll get used to it...
We go home.
I am angry and hurt and silent.
Looking at the baby makes me cry.
I know that Husband feels awful, but I need time to process.
I tell him that I accept his apology, but that he needs to give me space.
But he won't.
He HATES when I am angry at him. It makes him want to crawl out of his skin.
While I understand, I try to explain that I am thoroughly hurt and angry on several levels...this is going to take more than a minute to subside....
Explaining and justifying on both sides turns to more fighting.
My temper is no longer in check.
I go take a long shower. With the door locked.
I get out a calmer me.
He is a more honestly apologetic him.
He finally sees what this was for me.
And he admits that he thinks O's hair cut is as AWFUL as I do, and that it was mistake to rush his first hair cut.
We kiss and make up....sorta.
I warn him that I am still not 100% over it.
Next morning?
It still makes me weepy to look at the baby's head.
Husband is desperate to save this somehow.
He decides that he will use the clippers to cut O's hair so that it is 1nch in length all over, evening it out.
You may be yelling at my obviously crazy husband:
BITCH, DON'T GO IN THERE!! You're gonna get killed!!
But you know what?
I LOVE IT.
I'm still mourning his curls and wispies, but his new 1950's-style little man 'do makes me smile....
[and forgive that traitorous bastard husband of mine....a little bit more. Hey, it's a process.]
Still?
Heartbroken.
His hair was awesome.
Spouseface owes me BIG TIME for our anniversary and my birthday.
BIG.
Ha!
Saturday, February 26, 2011
The LISSSSST.
Alright, as I warned in Thursday's post, I'm putting up a Birthday List.
Dun, Dun, Duuunnnn!!!!
Only problem?
I don't know what I want....
Okay, so I DO know of things I want, but I feel like it's all too frivolous and/or expensive.
I'd rather be practical.
I don't want to get all Veruca Salt up in here....
But I know it really annoys my husband when I ask for practical things on holidays/birthdays (he also loathes giving gift cards), sooooo:
Let's do this Fantasy-Style.
I'm just going to go CUHRAAAZZZY and list it ALLLLLL.
I am turning 30 (eeek!), after all!
Do I expect everything?
That's a negative, ghostrider. I'm not delusional.
But it's still kinda fun. And, as a geniusy little bird suggested, If I list more than a couple things, I'll get that surprise my neurotic romantical heart hopes for! WIN.
Are you ready?
You may learn things about me you didn't wanna know.
Don't judge!
The Verizon iPhone- I really want an interwebs phone. Ever since my iTouch drowned (I need to do an in memoriam post) 2 weeks ago, I've been kinda lost and heartbroken. I think an iPhone or (or a Droid) could heal me. Maybe I just want a new iTouch....IDON'TKNOW!This lipstick makes me feel- Kinda sexy (yikes!), but it is puhhhhRICEeeey! Hey, it's my birthday, right?
My really good friend Rach sent me a tube today (3-23-11) in the mail for an early gifty! Yay! I will look all KINDS of sexy while picking up toys this evening!
In black or cognac...or both? OMG, I would die. Size 7.5/8
Saaaaad Day. I went to look at these again and try them on, in the event that I might actually get a pair, and they would never work for me...so the Hubs bought me a gorgeous black pair of Uggs. I promise I won't wear them with short-shorts.
Lisa Leonard Designs, itty bitty hearts with a W and O Necklace- So many things I want from her site, but I'm obsessed with this piece right now. Her jewelery is just so simple and happy and sweet...
This was my anniversary gift from Husby! So perfect!
Any/all colors. Size 8. I live and die by the flipflop.
My ILs got me two pairs of Tom's....Where have they BEEN all my life? Shoes that I can wear?! Whaaa? They don't hurt my feet and I can easily take them on and off myself! MIRACLES!
New Bedding-I love our bed. It's a king. It is magical. But I'd love to get a new bed set...but king sets? Ridiculous. I adore Anthro bedding (the whole store, really), but holy fuck in a bucket, talk about expensive....
I also got a new duvet and shams for our anniversary! Not Anthro, but Ikea...WAAAY cheaper, but simple clean and pretty. Best part? He likes it too! Yay, Domestic Harmony!
Why yes, I am watching my girlish figure. Thank you for noticing. Ahem. Anyway. I lurrrve baked goods! Especially cupcakes. Especially THESE cupcakes. Red Velvet? Chocolate Coconut? Strawberry? Droooool.
My husband brought home half a dozen...for our family of 5 (not for baby!)...I ate 3 of them. Over 4 days, but STILL
New Clothes-My wardrobe is kinda sad (and scandalous?). My clothes are getting tired. I just had to pitch a bunch of tanks and chones because of holes...the thing is? I feel like I don't know how to dress myself any more. I'm not even sure I know what size I am...I need comfy and easy to move in, but I need some sass in there as well, because who wants me be the Frump Master General? As much as husband hates gift cards, it's safer than trying to guess size/color...GC's to Macy's (they have great sales), Target (Who doesn't love Target?), and Old Navy (Their online selection is way better than in-store) would be much appreciated.
My friend K gave me a GC to Macy's...excited to spend it!
A New Camera- Like of the FujiFilm EXR varietyMy digital camera is 3 years old. It's been through a lot. Some day, I'd love to get a big girl camera, but until I finally take a photography class and get some photo programs, a point and click is all I am equipped to handle.
Hubs ALSO bought me a Fujifilm z800 EXR. Love it, still trying to use it properly!
iTunes Gift Cards-I may not have my iTouch anymore, and if I'm honest with myself, the iPhone is a pipe dream, BUT I can still listen to music on my computer. There's quite a few albums I want....
My darling friend M gave me an itunes GC, which I spent IMMEDIATELY. Adele and Mumford & Sons. Happy.
Okay! I think that's hedonistic enough! Gift it up, Husband!
[ Poor Guy, Our Anniversary is 3-8, and my birthday is 3-29]
And if any of you, my lovely readers/friends want to send me gifties? FEEL FREE. Ha!
This was fun! I feel like one of those girls on My SUPER SWEET SIXTEEN SPOILED ROTTEN show!
Where the FUCK is my new Beemer?!!!
Dun, Dun, Duuunnnn!!!!
Only problem?
I don't know what I want....
Okay, so I DO know of things I want, but I feel like it's all too frivolous and/or expensive.
I'd rather be practical.
I don't want to get all Veruca Salt up in here....
But I know it really annoys my husband when I ask for practical things on holidays/birthdays (he also loathes giving gift cards), sooooo:
Let's do this Fantasy-Style.
I'm just going to go CUHRAAAZZZY and list it ALLLLLL.
I am turning 30 (eeek!), after all!
Do I expect everything?
That's a negative, ghostrider. I'm not delusional.
But it's still kinda fun. And, as a geniusy little bird suggested, If I list more than a couple things, I'll get that surprise my neurotic romantical heart hopes for! WIN.
Are you ready?
You may learn things about me you didn't wanna know.
Don't judge!
BirrrfdayWishList:
My ILs got me the new iTouch and and adorable case! I feel complete again! TRUTH!
My really good friend Rach sent me a tube today (3-23-11) in the mail for an early gifty! Yay! I will look all KINDS of sexy while picking up toys this evening!
Saaaaad Day. I went to look at these again and try them on, in the event that I might actually get a pair, and they would never work for me...so the Hubs bought me a gorgeous black pair of Uggs. I promise I won't wear them with short-shorts.
This was my anniversary gift from Husby! So perfect!
A Facial-
I don't have a specific one, I'd just like a really good facial. I've only had 1 my whole life. It was fabulous. I'd like a repeat...
Eyeliner Touchup-
Yes. My eyeliner is tattooed on. No, I do not have a single tear inked as well. Shut it. Trying to put eyeliner on when your fine motor skills aren't so sharp, is dicey. So I got it permanently done. It's totally tasteful....SHUT UP.
My ILs got me two pairs of Tom's....Where have they BEEN all my life? Shoes that I can wear?! Whaaa? They don't hurt my feet and I can easily take them on and off myself! MIRACLES!
I also got a new duvet and shams for our anniversary! Not Anthro, but Ikea...WAAAY cheaper, but simple clean and pretty. Best part? He likes it too! Yay, Domestic Harmony!
My husband brought home half a dozen...for our family of 5 (not for baby!)...I ate 3 of them. Over 4 days, but STILL
My friend K gave me a GC to Macy's...excited to spend it!
Hubs ALSO bought me a Fujifilm z800 EXR. Love it, still trying to use it properly!
Tattoos-
I have so much more work that I want to get done! But I know my FIL would have a coronary. He HATES tattoos. He's learned to live with the ones I have, but I think starting the sleeve I want would put him over the edge. Maybe when we finally move out. And you know...get rich...pshhhh.
Ear Piercing-
I want to get my second holes done. I know. What am I, 8? For the record, I have my ears pierced, and I've had many other piercings over the years, even second/third/cartilage holes, but they all closed up. Don't mock me!
My darling friend M gave me an itunes GC, which I spent IMMEDIATELY. Adele and Mumford & Sons. Happy.
Okay! I think that's hedonistic enough! Gift it up, Husband!
[ Poor Guy, Our Anniversary is 3-8, and my birthday is 3-29]
And if any of you, my lovely readers/friends want to send me gifties? FEEL FREE. Ha!
This was fun! I feel like one of those girls on My SUPER SWEET SIXTEEN SPOILED ROTTEN show!
Where the FUCK is my new Beemer?!!!
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Hear ye, Hear ye:
My husband would like it known that he is not a completely insensitive jackass.
He feels as though my Valentine's Post was rather slanderous.
[When I pointed out that it wasn't untrue, he made his sad face....poor man.]
He blamed it all on a tragic miscommunication, and vowed to make it up to me....
His first attempt, the day after V-Day, well, it didn't work out as he'd hoped...
He, sweetly, brought me home a heart-shaped box of candy, a box of jellybellys, and a silly singing monkey*...
All super valentinesy. Yay!!!
Except I hate boxed candy.
And Jellybeans.
He has been told this before. Often.
He forgets things. Often.
Hello!! He was focused on the Valentine's Day theme....
Made perfect sense.
I just had to laugh. It was too funny not to laugh.
Husby just made his sad face again.
Poor, sad, spouseface.
He was going to make it up to me, damn it!
What did I want?
What did I want?????
SPRINKLES CUPCAKES.
(which I had mentioned several times BEFORE Valentines Day...ahem.)
Ohhhhhhh yes.
So.very.Deeeelish....
OH! And lunch at my favorite Mexican joint that we never go to because it's 40 minutes away.
Ummmmm, what could be better?!
Nothing.
So last Saturday?
That's what I got.
Cupcakes and CheesyMexicanBuenoness....
YUM.
It was a great day. For the whole Family!
(O had a quesadilla and got beans in his hair, hooray!)
Husband is all redeemed and stuff. He is a peach of a man.
But really?
If we're honest about the situation?
This was all my fault.
So sayeth my loving husband:
If you had just dictated to me what you wanted, then I would have gotten it, and everyone would've been happy. I need you to help me help YOU be happy. Just ask and you shall receive...oh, and write it down, 'kayThanks.**
Sigh.
Dictation it is!
My birthday is next month....
You better believe there is going to be a list!
I'm going to start that list as of....
now.
When it's done, I will post it here.
It will be Written AND Public.
I shall be blameless and well-gifted.
Ha.
[Just so you don't think he's all neglected, he got some pretty awesome gifties, FYI]
*Okay, the monkey? He has these huge cartoony Frank eyes and sings the L.O.V.E Song. Tre Creepy....
O loves it!
**He really would give me just about anything I want...if he could just remember what it was....writing down and blatant hints that aren't really hints but flat-out requests + reminders are key in our marriage. I need to let go of the surprise option....see? It really IS my fault! Shhh. Don't tell him....
He feels as though my Valentine's Post was rather slanderous.
[When I pointed out that it wasn't untrue, he made his sad face....poor man.]
He blamed it all on a tragic miscommunication, and vowed to make it up to me....
His first attempt, the day after V-Day, well, it didn't work out as he'd hoped...
He, sweetly, brought me home a heart-shaped box of candy, a box of jellybellys, and a silly singing monkey*...
All super valentinesy. Yay!!!
Except I hate boxed candy.
And Jellybeans.
He has been told this before. Often.
He forgets things. Often.
Hello!! He was focused on the Valentine's Day theme....
Made perfect sense.
I just had to laugh. It was too funny not to laugh.
Husby just made his sad face again.
Poor, sad, spouseface.
He was going to make it up to me, damn it!
What did I want?
What did I want?????
SPRINKLES CUPCAKES.
(which I had mentioned several times BEFORE Valentines Day...ahem.)
Ohhhhhhh yes.
So.very.Deeeelish....
OH! And lunch at my favorite Mexican joint that we never go to because it's 40 minutes away.
Ummmmm, what could be better?!
Nothing.
So last Saturday?
That's what I got.
Cupcakes and CheesyMexicanBuenoness....
YUM.
It was a great day. For the whole Family!
(O had a quesadilla and got beans in his hair, hooray!)
Husband is all redeemed and stuff. He is a peach of a man.
But really?
If we're honest about the situation?
This was all my fault.
So sayeth my loving husband:
If you had just dictated to me what you wanted, then I would have gotten it, and everyone would've been happy. I need you to help me help YOU be happy. Just ask and you shall receive...oh, and write it down, 'kayThanks.**
Sigh.
Dictation it is!
My birthday is next month....
You better believe there is going to be a list!
I'm going to start that list as of....
now.
When it's done, I will post it here.
It will be Written AND Public.
I shall be blameless and well-gifted.
Ha.
[Just so you don't think he's all neglected, he got some pretty awesome gifties, FYI]
*Okay, the monkey? He has these huge cartoony Frank eyes and sings the L.O.V.E Song. Tre Creepy....
O loves it!
**He really would give me just about anything I want...if he could just remember what it was....writing down and blatant hints that aren't really hints but flat-out requests + reminders are key in our marriage. I need to let go of the surprise option....see? It really IS my fault! Shhh. Don't tell him....
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Why ya gotta do me like that, Valentine's Day?
I'm sorta sappy, and huggy and lovey and stuff.
I adore a good Real-Life love story, I cry at weddings, etc.
It would follow that Valentine's Day would be one of my favorite holidays...
But Valentine's Day can kiss my ass.
It pretty much, without fail, always lets me down.
And it ain't my expectations, I can tell you that much.
I know we've never had any money, so all I really want is a token, a small romantic gesture.
A little bouquet of flowers (from like TJ's, not a doz. roses)...
Maybe a little love note?
Perhaps heart-shaped cookie?
A mix tape?
Or, dinner at our favorite burger hole, but we have to get all dressed up?
A Romantic Movie?
Something that he put some thought into.
SOMETHING!
Sigh.
But, there's always a road block to my romantical hopes.
My husband.
He is loving and affectionate and wonderful, but he's not romantic.
Our first Valentine's Day together, He bought me a comic book (he also didn't make reservations anywhere, nor were there any flowers or cards to speak of). I like comic books, but I'm not an avid fan, so I was pretty sure that was his way of telling me he wanted to just be friends....nope, he's just not the romantic sort....
Sigh...
Part of the problem are his delusions of grandeur.
I think he feels like if it doesn't involve diamonds and tropical getaways, it's just not worth doing.
Which in it's own way, is romantic, albeit it completely neurotic.
I will say, this year, was not TOTALLY his fault.
I got sick on Friday, and continued to get worse through the weekend. By yesterday, I was running a fever and could barely breathe.
[Also? On Sunday? My iTouch was accidentally drowned. Completely.Shitty.Weekend]
So off to the doctor, I went. Exam, Steroid shot-in-the-ass, xrays and $500 later, I'm sent home with a massive respiratory infection and a prescription.
Really? FML.
(Today, I have a follow up that's probably going to cost me around $200.)
Not feeling the love.
So I call my dear, sweet, husband to tell him what's going on, and also to tell him how much I love him, and he's my favorite Valentine, etc. Apologize that I couldn't get him a card...which he's understanding about because I'm so ill. And Frankly? He doesn't really care. He's a dude.
So on his way home he calls and asks if he can bring me anything home.
When I'm sick, I want Cheezits and Gatorade. I just do.
So he assures me that he will pick it up and be on his way....
Here's where I should know better.
He'll come home and hand me Cheezits and Gatorade.
He'll give me a kiss and say how sorry he is that I feel like crap.
But he will not surprise me a card, or flowers, or a Valentine's cookie. No matter how much I hope he will.
Sigh.
He would if I asked him too, but where's the romaticalness in that?
That's RIGHT. There is NONE.
SIGH.
But I know he loves me. With all his heart. And? I did get my Cheezits.
Some girls get candlelight, some get snack crackers.
Love takes all kinds, I guess.
I love you Querido.
I hope you all felt the love this Valentine's Day...in your own "special" way.
XOXOX!
CJ
I adore a good Real-Life love story, I cry at weddings, etc.
It would follow that Valentine's Day would be one of my favorite holidays...
But Valentine's Day can kiss my ass.
It pretty much, without fail, always lets me down.
And it ain't my expectations, I can tell you that much.
I know we've never had any money, so all I really want is a token, a small romantic gesture.
A little bouquet of flowers (from like TJ's, not a doz. roses)...
Maybe a little love note?
Perhaps heart-shaped cookie?
A mix tape?
Or, dinner at our favorite burger hole, but we have to get all dressed up?
A Romantic Movie?
Something that he put some thought into.
SOMETHING!
Sigh.
But, there's always a road block to my romantical hopes.
My husband.
He is loving and affectionate and wonderful, but he's not romantic.
Our first Valentine's Day together, He bought me a comic book (he also didn't make reservations anywhere, nor were there any flowers or cards to speak of). I like comic books, but I'm not an avid fan, so I was pretty sure that was his way of telling me he wanted to just be friends....nope, he's just not the romantic sort....
Sigh...
Part of the problem are his delusions of grandeur.
I think he feels like if it doesn't involve diamonds and tropical getaways, it's just not worth doing.
Which in it's own way, is romantic, albeit it completely neurotic.
I will say, this year, was not TOTALLY his fault.
I got sick on Friday, and continued to get worse through the weekend. By yesterday, I was running a fever and could barely breathe.
[Also? On Sunday? My iTouch was accidentally drowned. Completely.Shitty.Weekend]
So off to the doctor, I went. Exam, Steroid shot-in-the-ass, xrays and $500 later, I'm sent home with a massive respiratory infection and a prescription.
Really? FML.
(Today, I have a follow up that's probably going to cost me around $200.)
Not feeling the love.
So I call my dear, sweet, husband to tell him what's going on, and also to tell him how much I love him, and he's my favorite Valentine, etc. Apologize that I couldn't get him a card...which he's understanding about because I'm so ill. And Frankly? He doesn't really care. He's a dude.
So on his way home he calls and asks if he can bring me anything home.
When I'm sick, I want Cheezits and Gatorade. I just do.
So he assures me that he will pick it up and be on his way....
Here's where I should know better.
He'll come home and hand me Cheezits and Gatorade.
He'll give me a kiss and say how sorry he is that I feel like crap.
But he will not surprise me a card, or flowers, or a Valentine's cookie. No matter how much I hope he will.
Sigh.
He would if I asked him too, but where's the romaticalness in that?
That's RIGHT. There is NONE.
SIGH.
But I know he loves me. With all his heart. And? I did get my Cheezits.
Some girls get candlelight, some get snack crackers.
Love takes all kinds, I guess.
I love you Querido.
I hope you all felt the love this Valentine's Day...in your own "special" way.
XOXOX!
CJ
Friday, January 21, 2011
I'll leave the light on for ya...but it ain't red.
My IL's house had to be fumigated for the 3 days because of termites, so we all stayed in a hotel...
My husband was excited for getaway, hotel style carnality...
He was obviously delusional.
In-laws in the adjoining room? 14-month-old snoring in a portacrib next to the bed? Exhaustion from packing up the house for said fumigation?
Not so sexy...
And a business/commuter hotel room? With ants in the bathroom?
Not so vacationy.
Sorry, Querido.
The baby's sound machine set on "ocean waves" was not an equitable compromise to a beach-side B&B....
But I totally appreciate your imagination and creativity in the matter.
Just not enough to risk an ER visit (and awkward convo with your parents) so we can have sex hastily in the shower. And no, the handicapped-accessible bars in the shower did not make it kinkier. Or safer, for that matter.
I love you though.
Really!
My husband was excited for getaway, hotel style carnality...
He was obviously delusional.
In-laws in the adjoining room? 14-month-old snoring in a portacrib next to the bed? Exhaustion from packing up the house for said fumigation?
Not so sexy...
And a business/commuter hotel room? With ants in the bathroom?
Not so vacationy.
Sorry, Querido.
The baby's sound machine set on "ocean waves" was not an equitable compromise to a beach-side B&B....
But I totally appreciate your imagination and creativity in the matter.
Just not enough to risk an ER visit (and awkward convo with your parents) so we can have sex hastily in the shower. And no, the handicapped-accessible bars in the shower did not make it kinkier. Or safer, for that matter.
I love you though.
Really!
Monday, November 15, 2010
Hurray! Let's make a baby!
My spouseface does NOT have cancer. He's not going to die, nor is fertility being snatched away from us...(see title)...
The lumps are not dangerous in the immediate future....BUT He is going to follow-up with a urologist yearly from here-on-out, just to monitor the situation.
That's the gist of things!
He's kinda uncomfortable with his "dudes" being discussed in my blog, so that is all I will say.
Thank you for all the love/prayers/good vibes etc. We really appreciate it.
All off this madness as of late has made me think about mortality and such--How short life is.
So much of my life has been set up on the "when this, THEN this" type of schedule.
I've found myself asking the question: Do we (the universal we) have the time to keep to that schedule?
I mean, obviously, sometimes we have to.
We have to pay our bills before we go shopping for shoes.
But are we always supposed to wait? Do things the "right" way?
Every fiber of my brain screams yes to that question. My heart, on the other hand, wants things a little out of order.
I totally want to have another child. (like NOW)
I'm afraid that if we wait 'til it's the "right" time (we've moved out, become debt-free, we're making more money, etc.) it will be the wrong time for my body.
I'm turning 30 in a few months. That's not old, but it's pushing it for someone with CP and CFS in terms of healthy pregnancies.
[And my pregnancy with O kicked my ASS.]
Plus, as you may have noticed, I'm often plagued with health issues. This makes me nervous about taking a leisurely stroll toward a second child.
Maybe we won't be able to have a second child, but I'd like to give us the best chances to try. I want to be as young/healthy-ISH as I can be.
Also? I would like for O and his potential sibling to be close in age.
Maybe it's greedy to want another baby, but I do! Is it?!
(It's funny, I had always thought I'd have 4 children. But life had a different plan. Sigh.)
If we can't have another baby, I will ALWAYS be beyond grateful that we were able to have Owen, but it will break my heart if we miss out on the gift a second child because we were waiting for the "right time" to start to try.
After almost three years of the wrong things happening to us/in our lives, it feels like the "Right Way" is a myth.
With the news of our "freedom" as it were, it feels like we need to carpe diem this mess!
But as my ILs heads would explode if we had another baby under their roof, I doubt we'll be carpe-ing OR diem-ing any time soon.
Which makes me a little sad. Okay, a lot sad, if I'm honest.
But my Hubs is of the non-cancerous variety, so Yippeeeeeee!
The lumps are not dangerous in the immediate future....BUT He is going to follow-up with a urologist yearly from here-on-out, just to monitor the situation.
That's the gist of things!
He's kinda uncomfortable with his "dudes" being discussed in my blog, so that is all I will say.
Thank you for all the love/prayers/good vibes etc. We really appreciate it.
All off this madness as of late has made me think about mortality and such--How short life is.
So much of my life has been set up on the "when this, THEN this" type of schedule.
I've found myself asking the question: Do we (the universal we) have the time to keep to that schedule?
I mean, obviously, sometimes we have to.
We have to pay our bills before we go shopping for shoes.
But are we always supposed to wait? Do things the "right" way?
Every fiber of my brain screams yes to that question. My heart, on the other hand, wants things a little out of order.
I totally want to have another child. (like NOW)
I'm afraid that if we wait 'til it's the "right" time (we've moved out, become debt-free, we're making more money, etc.) it will be the wrong time for my body.
I'm turning 30 in a few months. That's not old, but it's pushing it for someone with CP and CFS in terms of healthy pregnancies.
[And my pregnancy with O kicked my ASS.]
Plus, as you may have noticed, I'm often plagued with health issues. This makes me nervous about taking a leisurely stroll toward a second child.
Maybe we won't be able to have a second child, but I'd like to give us the best chances to try. I want to be as young/healthy-ISH as I can be.
Also? I would like for O and his potential sibling to be close in age.
Maybe it's greedy to want another baby, but I do! Is it?!
(It's funny, I had always thought I'd have 4 children. But life had a different plan. Sigh.)
If we can't have another baby, I will ALWAYS be beyond grateful that we were able to have Owen, but it will break my heart if we miss out on the gift a second child because we were waiting for the "right time" to start to try.
After almost three years of the wrong things happening to us/in our lives, it feels like the "Right Way" is a myth.
With the news of our "freedom" as it were, it feels like we need to carpe diem this mess!
But as my ILs heads would explode if we had another baby under their roof, I doubt we'll be carpe-ing OR diem-ing any time soon.
Which makes me a little sad. Okay, a lot sad, if I'm honest.
But my Hubs is of the non-cancerous variety, so Yippeeeeeee!
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
It would be almost Funny...
If it didn't potentially involve cancer.
My Darling Hubs found a lump in his testicle.
On the 30th anniversary weekend of when his father discovered that HE had testicular cancer...
Awesome, right?
He went to the doctor yesterday, and was told that it was probably a blocked vesicle or something else of a non-cancery nature, but the doc can't be sure, and there is a family history....soooooo:
He's having an ultrasound this afternoon to try and confirm the nature of the lump.
Despite my best efforts, I vacillate between rage and despair.
I'm repeatedly telling myself that it's not cancer and that the tests are going to be fine, but even if they are (and I can't BREATHE until I know for sure)--
Are you efffing KIDDING ME? With all that we are struggling with, Life's just gonna throw a cancer-scare in there for shits and giggles? It's just too much.
I was already depressed as hell, and I can't say this is helping. Even poor hubby has cracked...
We need some pure, unadulterated, good fortune to come our way with a damn quickness. PLEASE.
If that weren't enough, they're trying to deny my insurance coverage.
I'm hoping it's just a clerical error, but I have yet to get on the phone with an actual person to find out. I loathe, LOATHE automated systems...
If they want more money, they are S-O-frikkenL. We don't have anymore money. Especially with all of the time Spouseface has had to take off given the various health upsets. I don't think he's gotten a full 40 hr check in two months, which is, ya know, "helpful" and stuff....
As far as post-surgical-update:
I'm doing okay. I had some complications with my pain meds and ended up in the ER on the Saturday night after my surgery, but they switched them and fixed that problem. The pain was FAR worse than I had expected, as was my lack of mobility and the fatigue. Thankfully, the pain is manageable now...I still can't bend, twist or pick up/carry O (which breaks my heart), but at least I can finally walk around . The fatigue, however, is crushing me.
I suppose I should've seen that coming, given I already have Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, but I was still caught off-guard... (E-X-H-A-U-S-T-E-D. Dead. Sadness.)...
maybe because lapro-surgery is made to sound so easy-peezy. It's not, just-so-you-know.
Sure, it's better than open surgery, but it's STILL MAJOR SURGERY. I think the fact that it's out-patient is a little dangerous, honestly.
That about sums it up. I'm pained, exhausted, kinda heartbroken (on many levels), and financially tapped OUT, but no gall bladder attacks or unexplained abdominal pain (the hernia), so HEY, that's great!
Or Something Like That....
Please keep my sweet Husbandface in your thoughts. We are doing are best to keep our chins up, and expect the best, but I know he's scared (I'm terrified), and we could use all the luck we can get. Hopefully the scans today are all negative (in the positive way) and happy.
I'll keep you updated...
My Darling Hubs found a lump in his testicle.
On the 30th anniversary weekend of when his father discovered that HE had testicular cancer...
Awesome, right?
He went to the doctor yesterday, and was told that it was probably a blocked vesicle or something else of a non-cancery nature, but the doc can't be sure, and there is a family history....soooooo:
He's having an ultrasound this afternoon to try and confirm the nature of the lump.
Despite my best efforts, I vacillate between rage and despair.
I'm repeatedly telling myself that it's not cancer and that the tests are going to be fine, but even if they are (and I can't BREATHE until I know for sure)--
Are you efffing KIDDING ME? With all that we are struggling with, Life's just gonna throw a cancer-scare in there for shits and giggles? It's just too much.
I was already depressed as hell, and I can't say this is helping. Even poor hubby has cracked...
We need some pure, unadulterated, good fortune to come our way with a damn quickness. PLEASE.
If that weren't enough, they're trying to deny my insurance coverage.
Wooo!!!
I'm hoping it's just a clerical error, but I have yet to get on the phone with an actual person to find out. I loathe, LOATHE automated systems...
If they want more money, they are S-O-frikkenL. We don't have anymore money. Especially with all of the time Spouseface has had to take off given the various health upsets. I don't think he's gotten a full 40 hr check in two months, which is, ya know, "helpful" and stuff....
As far as post-surgical-update:
I'm doing okay. I had some complications with my pain meds and ended up in the ER on the Saturday night after my surgery, but they switched them and fixed that problem. The pain was FAR worse than I had expected, as was my lack of mobility and the fatigue. Thankfully, the pain is manageable now...I still can't bend, twist or pick up/carry O (which breaks my heart), but at least I can finally walk around . The fatigue, however, is crushing me.
I suppose I should've seen that coming, given I already have Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, but I was still caught off-guard... (E-X-H-A-U-S-T-E-D. Dead. Sadness.)...
maybe because lapro-surgery is made to sound so easy-peezy. It's not, just-so-you-know.
Sure, it's better than open surgery, but it's STILL MAJOR SURGERY. I think the fact that it's out-patient is a little dangerous, honestly.
That about sums it up. I'm pained, exhausted, kinda heartbroken (on many levels), and financially tapped OUT, but no gall bladder attacks or unexplained abdominal pain (the hernia), so HEY, that's great!
Or Something Like That....
Please keep my sweet Husbandface in your thoughts. We are doing are best to keep our chins up, and expect the best, but I know he's scared (I'm terrified), and we could use all the luck we can get. Hopefully the scans today are all negative (in the positive way) and happy.
I'll keep you updated...
Thursday, November 4, 2010
TOP Week 1: Husbandface.
My first note for Thankful on Paper was to my Husband. Why? 'Cos he's pretty frikken amazing.
If you read his guest post, or the word "SexBee" has any meaning for you, then you probably know what I mean.
When we met in early 2005, we were both a mess.
A jaded, scarred, and suspicious lot.
There are times I am still dumbfounded that we managed to make it this far, but we had an unexplainable (if I'm honest-Strange) bond.
No matter what happened, or how hard we tried to ignore it--it couldn't be shaken off.
Thank goodness we both had the sense to recognize how rare that is...
It wasn't until we got married that I realized that I had never experienced unconditional love in action before. I had known only love that came with strings and caveats. He has shown me the life-changing difference between the two, and I am continually astounded at the gift that THAT is...
I am an all-or-nothing kind of creature. Survive or be killed, that's me.
He has a bit of a sunnier disposition....a bit more dramatic too, but whatever...(teasing. sorta.)
He keeps me balanced and from despairing in Humanity, a lot...
(You'd be surprised at how handy that can be!)
He is my best friend, and my Life Buddy. He is my Heart.
I am so Thankful he is mine.
He has patience when I do not.
He finds optimism when I can't.
He forgives me when I won't forgive myself.
I am so Thankful that he is mine.
My husband is not a Perfect man, any more than I am am a Perfect woman, but he has made me feel like I am perfection in his eyes. After so many years of being told that I was nothing, and worth even less, I can't even express how that has saved me.
I am so Thankful that he is mine.
I am so Thankful I am his.
(I love you, Querido.)
PS> It's not too LATE! Get your THANK on!
Saturday, October 30, 2010
This is NOT the Jayne you're looking for...
As you may have figured out by now, PJ (see what I did there?) isn't feeling well today - what with having an organ removed and all - so I, her Husband, will be the substitute "Jayne" for this post.
I've had the privilege of being a (very) behind-the-scenes player in this blog since the beginning, as either an over-the-shoulder proof-reader (she loves that), or an occasional source of inspiration (I was a Slutty Bee. I regret nothing.), but I think it'll be fun giving the actual writing a try.
Having just read my last sentence, I can tell this is going to suck. You have my condolences: PJ will be back soon, I promise. Let's get this show on the road.
Obviously, the surgery went as expected: completely laproscopic, no complications, etc. There was a small surprise, but we'll get to that in a bit. Let's start the timeline, shall we?
The day starts at 5:30 AM.
This, as you may already know, is not a good time of day for my Wife. In fact, she'd like to believe that mornings start around 10, but our son has confirmed that the ass-crack of dawn is a perfectly acceptable time to wake up.
We make our way to the hospital, and arrive right on time at 7:00 so that we can get prepped for the 9:00 surgery. I notice very few people in the waiting room: good sign, I think. I'm an idiot, so you can guess how this actually turned out.
Three hours later, they wheel her off to the operating room.
Side Note: after spending several hours in a surgical waiting room, I can safely say that Grey's Anatomy is full of shit. I saw dozens of doctors, and there was no McDreamy, no McSteamy, no McNothin'. Well, there was McDumpy, McSchlumpy, McUgly, and McSurly.
Since I'm about as useful as an underwater bicycle at this point, and I'm not going to be needed for another two hours, I decide to get something for breakfast. Not three minutes after I leave the parking lot, I get a call from her surgeon. From the operating room. While she's on the table. Fuck.
Turns out, he found an Umbilical Hernia, and he needed to let me know before he fixed it. How courteous.
Admittedly, I can't really give him any crap, because this guy was clearly very good at his job: he caught an extra problem, fixed it, AND removed the offending Gallbladder in less than an hour. It usually takes me longer to make frickin' spaghetti.
So, at 11:00, I head back to the hospital, and wait for her to get out of recovery.
And wait.
And wait...
And wait.
Seriously? What the hell is going on back there? Cripes, how long has it been?
...Half an hour? Oh. Ok. Well, I'll just sit back down, then. Sorry about that. How long's this supposed to take, again? Hour? Hour and a half? I can handle that.
Three hours.
We got there at 7:00, and left at 2:00. I didn't care; I was just happy to get my Wife back. My sweet, delirious, high-as-a-fucking-kite Wife. She's a peach when she's on drugs - she really is. Remarkably friendly. Cute as button. And funny as hell.
Knowing full well what was in store, I took a video of our conversation during the car ride home. I was originally going to post and/or transcribe it here, but frankly, it just doesn't translate, and PJ would flay me alive if it found its way onto the interwebs. Suffice it to say, it is awesome, and if anyone wants to see it, give me a buzz.
But just so everyone gets a sense of what I had the joy to witness, just imagine a four year old (her voice gets really high-pitched when she's under the influence; no idea why, but it's awesome.) juxtaposing questions about the existence of her own belly button with discussions of I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant, Cotton Balls and Death (sounds like an amazing band), and graham crackers. It was beautiful.
Anyway, that's all for now - thanks for tolerating me while you could, and JPJ will be back next post!
I've had the privilege of being a (very) behind-the-scenes player in this blog since the beginning, as either an over-the-shoulder proof-reader (she loves that), or an occasional source of inspiration (I was a Slutty Bee. I regret nothing.), but I think it'll be fun giving the actual writing a try.
Having just read my last sentence, I can tell this is going to suck. You have my condolences: PJ will be back soon, I promise. Let's get this show on the road.
Obviously, the surgery went as expected: completely laproscopic, no complications, etc. There was a small surprise, but we'll get to that in a bit. Let's start the timeline, shall we?
The day starts at 5:30 AM.
This, as you may already know, is not a good time of day for my Wife. In fact, she'd like to believe that mornings start around 10, but our son has confirmed that the ass-crack of dawn is a perfectly acceptable time to wake up.
We make our way to the hospital, and arrive right on time at 7:00 so that we can get prepped for the 9:00 surgery. I notice very few people in the waiting room: good sign, I think. I'm an idiot, so you can guess how this actually turned out.
Three hours later, they wheel her off to the operating room.
Side Note: after spending several hours in a surgical waiting room, I can safely say that Grey's Anatomy is full of shit. I saw dozens of doctors, and there was no McDreamy, no McSteamy, no McNothin'. Well, there was McDumpy, McSchlumpy, McUgly, and McSurly.
Since I'm about as useful as an underwater bicycle at this point, and I'm not going to be needed for another two hours, I decide to get something for breakfast. Not three minutes after I leave the parking lot, I get a call from her surgeon. From the operating room. While she's on the table. Fuck.
Turns out, he found an Umbilical Hernia, and he needed to let me know before he fixed it. How courteous.
Admittedly, I can't really give him any crap, because this guy was clearly very good at his job: he caught an extra problem, fixed it, AND removed the offending Gallbladder in less than an hour. It usually takes me longer to make frickin' spaghetti.
So, at 11:00, I head back to the hospital, and wait for her to get out of recovery.
And wait.
And wait...
And wait.
Seriously? What the hell is going on back there? Cripes, how long has it been?
...Half an hour? Oh. Ok. Well, I'll just sit back down, then. Sorry about that. How long's this supposed to take, again? Hour? Hour and a half? I can handle that.
Three hours.
We got there at 7:00, and left at 2:00. I didn't care; I was just happy to get my Wife back. My sweet, delirious, high-as-a-fucking-kite Wife. She's a peach when she's on drugs - she really is. Remarkably friendly. Cute as button. And funny as hell.
Knowing full well what was in store, I took a video of our conversation during the car ride home. I was originally going to post and/or transcribe it here, but frankly, it just doesn't translate, and PJ would flay me alive if it found its way onto the interwebs. Suffice it to say, it is awesome, and if anyone wants to see it, give me a buzz.
But just so everyone gets a sense of what I had the joy to witness, just imagine a four year old (her voice gets really high-pitched when she's under the influence; no idea why, but it's awesome.) juxtaposing questions about the existence of her own belly button with discussions of I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant, Cotton Balls and Death (sounds like an amazing band), and graham crackers. It was beautiful.
Anyway, that's all for now - thanks for tolerating me while you could, and JPJ will be back next post!
Saturday, October 2, 2010
Just when I think I can't stands no mo', my Husband puts on a "Sexy Bee" Costume.
Oh, yeah.
It was something to behold, my friends....
So here's how it all went down:
We went shopping today for O's bday party (which is going to be a Halloween-themed bash, and we're encouraging all guests to get their costume on!) to take our minds off the current shitstorm we find ourselves in, and we picked up all KINDS of CUTE in terms of decor items and we also snapped up the makings of our costumes.
We decided that no matter what was going on financially, it was important for us as a family to make sure that O's big day was special, and celebrated with panache!
BUT, All on the Cheeeeeap.
That took some creativity, as these things usually do-
Using Blind Melon as inspiration; I decided I would dress up as a Bee.
It seemed like a bright, cheerful (I thought it'd be a nice change of pace for me, Eh?) thing to be, and seemed like a relatively easy get-up to cobble together.
I was all set to go except for the keyest of my Bee ensemble-the wings and antennae, aka "deelyboppers" according to the Hubs...
This just would NOT do!
No way I wanted to be mistaken for some sort of Drag-Charlie Brown.
(Although...interesting idea....)
So we set off on a search for my missing links...
We thought this was going to be a cheap and easy mission and we were soon proved wrong.
Nothing, nowhere, No HOW, unless we wanted to spend a ridiculous amount.
We'd just about given up, when we spotted a Bee costume in CVS (of ALL places?!) on a mega clearance rack and decided to give it a looksie...
It came with a dress, tights, arm warmers, wings, and of COURSE, deelyboppers. Plus?
Uber-Cheap!
Two problems though:
1. It was a "Flirty Bee" [Read: SLUTTASTIC and totally innapropos for my son's 1st bday party]
2. It was made for a delicately-boned Malaysian boy
But Husband had a stroke of ::Genius::
We'd buy the costume and cannibalize it for parts!
Sweet!
So home we went, VICTORIOUS.
As we got home though, I started to feel that old familiar surge of panic....
"We spent too much"
"We should return everything"
"That was irresponsible"
And so forth.
I'm trying to keep this all to myself, and fighting the urge to start crying over the absurdity of our lives at the moment when as if on cue-
I look up to see my husband shimmying himself into the "SexBee" outfit.
Complete with wings, and you guessed it, DEELYBOPPERS.
I.peed.my.pants.
No joke. I was laughing so hard I couldn't breathe.
(I still can't believe he shoved himself into it...you could hear ripping as he moved...)
IT.WAS.GLORIOUS.
Tragically, he would not allow photographic evidence of any kind.
So just work the image out for yourself:
This Dude:
Parading around in this little number:
(Remember honey, you can find anything on the webnets)
Mmmmmmhmmm.
And whatever picture you've got crafted in your mind?
Can't even TOUCH the real deal.
Maaaaan. I love my Husband.
I don't know how I'd make it without him....(and O, obviously.)...
It was something to behold, my friends....
So here's how it all went down:
We went shopping today for O's bday party (which is going to be a Halloween-themed bash, and we're encouraging all guests to get their costume on!) to take our minds off the current shitstorm we find ourselves in, and we picked up all KINDS of CUTE in terms of decor items and we also snapped up the makings of our costumes.
We decided that no matter what was going on financially, it was important for us as a family to make sure that O's big day was special, and celebrated with panache!
BUT, All on the Cheeeeeap.
That took some creativity, as these things usually do-
Using Blind Melon as inspiration; I decided I would dress up as a Bee.
It seemed like a bright, cheerful (I thought it'd be a nice change of pace for me, Eh?) thing to be, and seemed like a relatively easy get-up to cobble together.
I was all set to go except for the keyest of my Bee ensemble-the wings and antennae, aka "deelyboppers" according to the Hubs...
This just would NOT do!
No way I wanted to be mistaken for some sort of Drag-Charlie Brown.
(Although...interesting idea....)
So we set off on a search for my missing links...
We thought this was going to be a cheap and easy mission and we were soon proved wrong.
Nothing, nowhere, No HOW, unless we wanted to spend a ridiculous amount.
We'd just about given up, when we spotted a Bee costume in CVS (of ALL places?!) on a mega clearance rack and decided to give it a looksie...
It came with a dress, tights, arm warmers, wings, and of COURSE, deelyboppers. Plus?
Uber-Cheap!
Two problems though:
1. It was a "Flirty Bee" [Read: SLUTTASTIC and totally innapropos for my son's 1st bday party]
2. It was made for a delicately-boned Malaysian boy
But Husband had a stroke of ::Genius::
We'd buy the costume and cannibalize it for parts!
Sweet!
So home we went, VICTORIOUS.
As we got home though, I started to feel that old familiar surge of panic....
"We spent too much"
"We should return everything"
"That was irresponsible"
And so forth.
I'm trying to keep this all to myself, and fighting the urge to start crying over the absurdity of our lives at the moment when as if on cue-
I look up to see my husband shimmying himself into the "SexBee" outfit.
Complete with wings, and you guessed it, DEELYBOPPERS.
I.peed.my.pants.
No joke. I was laughing so hard I couldn't breathe.
(I still can't believe he shoved himself into it...you could hear ripping as he moved...)
IT.WAS.GLORIOUS.
Tragically, he would not allow photographic evidence of any kind.
So just work the image out for yourself:
This Dude:
Parading around in this little number:
(Remember honey, you can find anything on the webnets)
Mmmmmmhmmm.
And whatever picture you've got crafted in your mind?
Can't even TOUCH the real deal.
Maaaaan. I love my Husband.
I don't know how I'd make it without him....(and O, obviously.)...
Friday, May 14, 2010
For my Hubbadens. (He never checks his email, but checks my blog)
Dear Husband,
I know today was a really hard day.
I know your job is sucking out your soul.
I know that living with your parents has been a major blow to well, everything.
I know that you can't sleep at night because you worry about how we're ever going to make it.
I know you feel like we're stuck in a hole, always a dollar short.
I know that you dream of a house (hell, an apartment), a new car, a dog, another baby.
I know that you desperately need things to change.
I know you just want to provide.
I hope that you also know how grateful I am to have you as a husband. You take amazing care of me and of your son.
Even though it feels like all of your effort is for naught, remember, it's that effort that keeps our little family afloat. Every day that you get-up-and-do-it-all over-again is one more step closer to where we want to be. Yes, it's going much slower than we anticipated, but we are getting there, I promise!
I realize that can be hard to see as we agonize over every dime, sigh in defeat as we run the numbers AGAIN, only to see that it STILL isn't feasible to move out, and wrack ourselves with guilt any time we spend money on something that isn't "necessary".
Even with that being said, we have made progress, and by trudging through shit everyday, you were at the forefront of that happening.
The past few years have thoroughly kicked our asses, and that blows, but like I said in your b-day card yesterday: Your pre-thirties are going to be BAD ASS. :)
I'm so proud of you. I love you very, very much.
Always,
Wife
I know today was a really hard day.
I know your job is sucking out your soul.
I know that living with your parents has been a major blow to well, everything.
I know that you can't sleep at night because you worry about how we're ever going to make it.
I know you feel like we're stuck in a hole, always a dollar short.
I know that you dream of a house (hell, an apartment), a new car, a dog, another baby.
I know that you desperately need things to change.
I know you just want to provide.
I hope that you also know how grateful I am to have you as a husband. You take amazing care of me and of your son.
Even though it feels like all of your effort is for naught, remember, it's that effort that keeps our little family afloat. Every day that you get-up-and-do-it-all over-again is one more step closer to where we want to be. Yes, it's going much slower than we anticipated, but we are getting there, I promise!
I realize that can be hard to see as we agonize over every dime, sigh in defeat as we run the numbers AGAIN, only to see that it STILL isn't feasible to move out, and wrack ourselves with guilt any time we spend money on something that isn't "necessary".
Even with that being said, we have made progress, and by trudging through shit everyday, you were at the forefront of that happening.
The past few years have thoroughly kicked our asses, and that blows, but like I said in your b-day card yesterday: Your pre-thirties are going to be BAD ASS. :)
I'm so proud of you. I love you very, very much.
Always,
Wife
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
This is going to be one of those "Did she REALLY just share that?" posts...
So I had my 6 month visit with the Obgyn today.
Technically, I'm at 26 weeks, not 24, but whatever.
But on that note, my fundal measurement (the length from the top of your uterus to your pubic bone) is measuring at 28 weeks, so Owen could be here early.
Which is what I've been saying all ALONG, but my Doc keeps shooting that down...WHAT DOES HE KNOW? He's just the doctor. Ha.
I also gained 6 lbs since my appointment last month. I'm only supposed to gain 3-4 lbs a month, so I felt pretty behemoth (don't even get me started on the TOTAL number, yiiikes), but since I was still negative 3 lbs from my starting weight at the previous visit, I'd technically only gained 3 lbs.
He was happy with this, I was not.
I'm afraid the weight is going to start snowballing in these last 3 months.
I've heard that happening to a lot of pregnant women and it scares me.
Not from a vanity standpoint, but a health one.
I did not start this pregnancy a small girl, and even though I'd SWORN to myself that I would lose all the weight I gained after the rape before I got pregnant....
the intervening 5 years has taught me that A. life never goes according to plan, and B. 100 lbs is WAAAAAY easier to gain than it is to lose.
Obviously, being overweight is not ideal, pregnant or not, so the concept of adding 20-a gazillion lbs to that is scary, but I mostly worry about it in terms of things like gestational diabetes, and healthy labor and delivery. In 3 weeks, I'll have my glucose test, so I'm even more nervous.
I know, I just have to be careful, and I can't beat myself up, but I can't help it sometimes....
All that being said, Owen is doing great, so I should just shut up and be grateful!
On to the TMI portion of our program.....
I'm pretty sure that at this point, my vagina hates me.
I'm thinking it's because she knows of the battle that lies ahead, and is none-too-pleased about it.
I can't be sure of this of course, but all I know is that from the day I got pregnant, I have had nothing but issues in the "lady business" area.
Bladder infections, yeast infections, urinary tract....ay yai yai! It's like she's leading a protest revolt or something....
If that wasn't enough, over the last couple of months, sex has become incredibly painful.
Like the "don't even come near me, no matter how much lube you have" kind of painful.
My poor husband. He's been so understanding and patient, but the poor bastard just wants to get laid, and it's kinda, really, NOT happening for him.
First it was the morning/all day vomiting, then the round after round of antibiotics, now this.
So, I mention this in passing to my doctor last month, and he says:
"No worries, probably just from lack of sex in the previous months. Take it slow, use lube, foreplay, you'll be fine."
No dice!
So I mention it AGAIN today, during my appointment. He asks me to describe it (the pain) in a bit more detail....
Now, I am not a shy or conservative woman, but there's something a little unnerving about having to say the following the man who will deliver your child:
"Well, when he tries to penetrate, it hurts the way it would if you were still recovering from a previous night of really rough, unlubed sex, and THEN were stupid enough to go at it again at full tilt, without a breather....KnowwhatImean?"
The words just fell OUT OF MY MOUTH.
It was like I couldn't stop myself. Oh, wait, that's right: I DIDN'T.
Well, the look on his face was priceless.
He then proceeded to clear his throat, and ask me if I had any history with herpes and/or other STDs.
Thought I was going to DIE. Roseanne Roseannadanna-style.
After I vehemently stated that I have never had herpes or any other type of creepy-crawly in my bathing suit area, he moved on to doing a vaginal culture, and concluded that it is probably a type of "non-infectious vaginitis" (mmmmmhmm, SEXY) which is apparently, super-common.
Oh, goody!
Treatment?
MORE antibiotics, and you guessed it, no sex.
Sorry, Hubalubs.
Looks like I'm not the only one "SHE" hates......
Technically, I'm at 26 weeks, not 24, but whatever.
But on that note, my fundal measurement (the length from the top of your uterus to your pubic bone) is measuring at 28 weeks, so Owen could be here early.
Which is what I've been saying all ALONG, but my Doc keeps shooting that down...WHAT DOES HE KNOW? He's just the doctor. Ha.
I also gained 6 lbs since my appointment last month. I'm only supposed to gain 3-4 lbs a month, so I felt pretty behemoth (don't even get me started on the TOTAL number, yiiikes), but since I was still negative 3 lbs from my starting weight at the previous visit, I'd technically only gained 3 lbs.
He was happy with this, I was not.
I'm afraid the weight is going to start snowballing in these last 3 months.
I've heard that happening to a lot of pregnant women and it scares me.
Not from a vanity standpoint, but a health one.
I did not start this pregnancy a small girl, and even though I'd SWORN to myself that I would lose all the weight I gained after the rape before I got pregnant....
the intervening 5 years has taught me that A. life never goes according to plan, and B. 100 lbs is WAAAAAY easier to gain than it is to lose.
Obviously, being overweight is not ideal, pregnant or not, so the concept of adding 20-a gazillion lbs to that is scary, but I mostly worry about it in terms of things like gestational diabetes, and healthy labor and delivery. In 3 weeks, I'll have my glucose test, so I'm even more nervous.
I know, I just have to be careful, and I can't beat myself up, but I can't help it sometimes....
All that being said, Owen is doing great, so I should just shut up and be grateful!
On to the TMI portion of our program.....
I'm pretty sure that at this point, my vagina hates me.
I'm thinking it's because she knows of the battle that lies ahead, and is none-too-pleased about it.
I can't be sure of this of course, but all I know is that from the day I got pregnant, I have had nothing but issues in the "lady business" area.
Bladder infections, yeast infections, urinary tract....ay yai yai! It's like she's leading a protest revolt or something....
If that wasn't enough, over the last couple of months, sex has become incredibly painful.
Like the "don't even come near me, no matter how much lube you have" kind of painful.
My poor husband. He's been so understanding and patient, but the poor bastard just wants to get laid, and it's kinda, really, NOT happening for him.
First it was the morning/all day vomiting, then the round after round of antibiotics, now this.
So, I mention this in passing to my doctor last month, and he says:
"No worries, probably just from lack of sex in the previous months. Take it slow, use lube, foreplay, you'll be fine."
No dice!
So I mention it AGAIN today, during my appointment. He asks me to describe it (the pain) in a bit more detail....
Now, I am not a shy or conservative woman, but there's something a little unnerving about having to say the following the man who will deliver your child:
"Well, when he tries to penetrate, it hurts the way it would if you were still recovering from a previous night of really rough, unlubed sex, and THEN were stupid enough to go at it again at full tilt, without a breather....KnowwhatImean?"
The words just fell OUT OF MY MOUTH.
It was like I couldn't stop myself. Oh, wait, that's right: I DIDN'T.
Well, the look on his face was priceless.
He then proceeded to clear his throat, and ask me if I had any history with herpes and/or other STDs.
Thought I was going to DIE. Roseanne Roseannadanna-style.
After I vehemently stated that I have never had herpes or any other type of creepy-crawly in my bathing suit area, he moved on to doing a vaginal culture, and concluded that it is probably a type of "non-infectious vaginitis" (mmmmmhmm, SEXY) which is apparently, super-common.
Oh, goody!
Treatment?
MORE antibiotics, and you guessed it, no sex.
Sorry, Hubalubs.
Looks like I'm not the only one "SHE" hates......
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Attack of the Nagging Hausfrau.
Okay, so I am so BEYOND irritated right now, but I'm torn as to who I should be more irritated with: myself, or my husband.
Having moved in with his parents, we live in a very small space as compared to what we had before (a 2bd/2ba entire apt).
We now have:
Two bedrooms which are connected by a jack n' jill bathroom being used as our "apt.".
In that space, we have a small living room/office area, and then a bedroom area. Now, we are trying to negotiate how to fit our son into all of that as well.
This is a hard task. It's made harder by the fact that my darling spouse is a SLOB.
Trails everywhere he freakin' goes. Clothes strewn wherever he happens to take them off, crochet paraphernalia (yes, he crochets) here and there, whatever magazines or book he decides to flip through, dishes, shoes, etc.
Basically anything he touches/uses in his daily life gets scattered through our little abode.
It drives me FUCKING nuts. Partly because I am, in fact, a Type Aer who has inherited her mother's reverence for cleanliness (although not nearly as psychotic), but MOSTLY it's because a small space immediately becomes unlivable if it's not kept clean and organized.
And I have TRIED. I've let a lot of things go in the 2.5 years that we've cohabitated, and I've done my damnedest to try and give everything a place, so it's easy keep stuff picked up.
This does not register with him.
The thing is, I feel bad for getting mad at him about it. When we both worked, I didn't feel bad, but now that he's the only one working, I feel like the LEAST I can do is the housework. So now, I DO feel bad, because I feel like I'm not pulling my weight.
This feeling is not as a result of him either. He doesn't care if I clean or not. He's fine with the mess and overflowing baskets of laundry. I'm the one having the nervous breakdown about it.
Before I got pregnant, This wasn't that big of an issue. For the most part, even though I got annoyed from time to time, I did all of the cleaning/laundry, and that was that. But now, it's a different story.
I'm so tired. All the time! It seems like the messes are creeping up on me more and more frequently now. Oh, and the laundry. Good LORDY LOVIN', the laundry. There's always been a lot of it, because my husband is sweaty and changes at least twice in a day, but lately, it's just overwhelming. I can get it sorted, washed and dried, but by the time I get to the putting away/hanging up portion of the program, things fall apart.
I just don't have any energy or focus, which is worse than the fatigue.
So we end up with baskets of laundry lined up on our window seat or next to the bed, which end up being rifled through by the Hubster, and thus strewn throughout creation.
And a day like today will come, a day that is hot, one in which I am tired and headachy, where I look around our space and its piles of mess/laundry and try to imagine our son and all of his stuff coexisting with it all, only to realize that it's going to get SO MUCH WORSE.
--this is when I CRACK.
Yelling is imminent. My poor clueless spouse will walk in the door any minute now, and I will unleash a torrential bitchfest upon him.
But I don't want to. He works hard, and I SOOOO appreciate that. He doesn't care if I do nothing but sit on my ass and eat bonbons...
So what right do I have to chew him out for not putting away his crap?
But at the SAME TIME, shouldn't he put away at least some of it?
Sometimes as he sits there, after work, playing his Xbox, amid piles of laundry as I once again gather up his dishes, I briefly visualize strangling him with the controller cord and throwing the machine out the window....
Other times as he sits there, after work, detailing the mind-numbing day he had, amid the piles of bills he's trying so hard to pay, I'm so thankful that he's willing to do it and come home so happy to be with me every day.
Does any of this make any sense?
I think I just needed to vent.
Having moved in with his parents, we live in a very small space as compared to what we had before (a 2bd/2ba entire apt).
We now have:
Two bedrooms which are connected by a jack n' jill bathroom being used as our "apt.".
In that space, we have a small living room/office area, and then a bedroom area. Now, we are trying to negotiate how to fit our son into all of that as well.
This is a hard task. It's made harder by the fact that my darling spouse is a SLOB.
Trails everywhere he freakin' goes. Clothes strewn wherever he happens to take them off, crochet paraphernalia (yes, he crochets) here and there, whatever magazines or book he decides to flip through, dishes, shoes, etc.
Basically anything he touches/uses in his daily life gets scattered through our little abode.
It drives me FUCKING nuts. Partly because I am, in fact, a Type Aer who has inherited her mother's reverence for cleanliness (although not nearly as psychotic), but MOSTLY it's because a small space immediately becomes unlivable if it's not kept clean and organized.
And I have TRIED. I've let a lot of things go in the 2.5 years that we've cohabitated, and I've done my damnedest to try and give everything a place, so it's easy keep stuff picked up.
This does not register with him.
The thing is, I feel bad for getting mad at him about it. When we both worked, I didn't feel bad, but now that he's the only one working, I feel like the LEAST I can do is the housework. So now, I DO feel bad, because I feel like I'm not pulling my weight.
This feeling is not as a result of him either. He doesn't care if I clean or not. He's fine with the mess and overflowing baskets of laundry. I'm the one having the nervous breakdown about it.
Before I got pregnant, This wasn't that big of an issue. For the most part, even though I got annoyed from time to time, I did all of the cleaning/laundry, and that was that. But now, it's a different story.
I'm so tired. All the time! It seems like the messes are creeping up on me more and more frequently now. Oh, and the laundry. Good LORDY LOVIN', the laundry. There's always been a lot of it, because my husband is sweaty and changes at least twice in a day, but lately, it's just overwhelming. I can get it sorted, washed and dried, but by the time I get to the putting away/hanging up portion of the program, things fall apart.
I just don't have any energy or focus, which is worse than the fatigue.
So we end up with baskets of laundry lined up on our window seat or next to the bed, which end up being rifled through by the Hubster, and thus strewn throughout creation.
And a day like today will come, a day that is hot, one in which I am tired and headachy, where I look around our space and its piles of mess/laundry and try to imagine our son and all of his stuff coexisting with it all, only to realize that it's going to get SO MUCH WORSE.
--this is when I CRACK.
Yelling is imminent. My poor clueless spouse will walk in the door any minute now, and I will unleash a torrential bitchfest upon him.
But I don't want to. He works hard, and I SOOOO appreciate that. He doesn't care if I do nothing but sit on my ass and eat bonbons...
So what right do I have to chew him out for not putting away his crap?
But at the SAME TIME, shouldn't he put away at least some of it?
Sometimes as he sits there, after work, playing his Xbox, amid piles of laundry as I once again gather up his dishes, I briefly visualize strangling him with the controller cord and throwing the machine out the window....
Other times as he sits there, after work, detailing the mind-numbing day he had, amid the piles of bills he's trying so hard to pay, I'm so thankful that he's willing to do it and come home so happy to be with me every day.
Does any of this make any sense?
I think I just needed to vent.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
The Daddy? Who? Ohhh, yeah.....
I love my husband. He really is the best husband I could ask for.
Sure, he's kinda (okay, IS) a slob-- clothes will make it to the front of instead of IN the hamper, and I think his relationship with his Xbox sometimes borders on cheating, but even so...he is amazing.
Because while there are things that make me want to strangle my husband from time to time, when I really evaluate them all, those things don't really matter.
Why the sudden gush of sentiment?
I was thinking about this blog, and all of the things that I think about in reference to the pregnancy, etc., and it dawned on me that I had not talked about a crucial part of this whole process:
The father.
What's he doing during all of this? Is he excited too? Is he concerned with being a good parent? How does he feel about me as his wife, now that I'm pregnant?
It's the answers to the questions that make me so incredibly grateful that we've been able to make it through various trials to being married and expecting a child.
He's so excited to be a father. He's also scared to death, because he just wants so badly to be a good one. He can't wait for it all to begin.
In the meantime, he's in awe of this whole process.
We received an expectant father's book as a gift, but he's way more interested in all the books I'm reading, because the changes my body is going through both fascinates and worries him.
He comes home from work, and this is what (almost on a daily basis) I hear:
"Hi, honey! I missed you...how was your day? Did you eat? Have you had any weird pains? Do your boobs hurt? Can you feel the baby move yet? Do you feel good? Are you sure? Do you need a nap?"
It cracks me up.
He worries like a mother hen.
He is perfectly confident in my ability to be a mother, but he is so freaked out that the pregnancy is going to kill me or something. Seriously.
He told me, that THAT is what he thinks about at night. My dying in childbirth, and how if that happened, he would fall apart.
If it weren't so sad, I'd laugh, because it's just so over-the-top, but he's genuinely afraid.
He's always worried about me like that. Even before we got pregnant.
A cold is the plague...
A headache? Obviously, a brain tumor.
Random Bruise? Bone Cancer.
He's a bit ridiculous, to say the least, but I've come to realize that he just wants to make sure that he has done everything to take care of me.
He's been SUCH a peach during the pregnancy so far.
He holds my hair back while I puke....and tells me I'm beautiful.
11:45pm and I want a sandwich? He's alllllll over it. Even though it's probably not going to stick...
He doesn't begrudge me for taking up the ENTIRE bed because of weird positions I've taken to sleeping in whilst he clings the edge.
He doesn't make me feel bad for not getting anything done, he applauds it. Haha.
His main goal is to make sure that I am happy, comfortable, and loved.
I know he'll feel that same love and devotion for our child.
What more can you ask for in a husband and father than that?
The laundry to be put away, would be nice....
but I'm not greedy. :)
Sure, he's kinda (okay, IS) a slob-- clothes will make it to the front of instead of IN the hamper, and I think his relationship with his Xbox sometimes borders on cheating, but even so...he is amazing.
Because while there are things that make me want to strangle my husband from time to time, when I really evaluate them all, those things don't really matter.
Why the sudden gush of sentiment?
I was thinking about this blog, and all of the things that I think about in reference to the pregnancy, etc., and it dawned on me that I had not talked about a crucial part of this whole process:
The father.
What's he doing during all of this? Is he excited too? Is he concerned with being a good parent? How does he feel about me as his wife, now that I'm pregnant?
It's the answers to the questions that make me so incredibly grateful that we've been able to make it through various trials to being married and expecting a child.
He's so excited to be a father. He's also scared to death, because he just wants so badly to be a good one. He can't wait for it all to begin.
In the meantime, he's in awe of this whole process.
We received an expectant father's book as a gift, but he's way more interested in all the books I'm reading, because the changes my body is going through both fascinates and worries him.
He comes home from work, and this is what (almost on a daily basis) I hear:
"Hi, honey! I missed you...how was your day? Did you eat? Have you had any weird pains? Do your boobs hurt? Can you feel the baby move yet? Do you feel good? Are you sure? Do you need a nap?"
It cracks me up.
He worries like a mother hen.
He is perfectly confident in my ability to be a mother, but he is so freaked out that the pregnancy is going to kill me or something. Seriously.
He told me, that THAT is what he thinks about at night. My dying in childbirth, and how if that happened, he would fall apart.
If it weren't so sad, I'd laugh, because it's just so over-the-top, but he's genuinely afraid.
He's always worried about me like that. Even before we got pregnant.
A cold is the plague...
A headache? Obviously, a brain tumor.
Random Bruise? Bone Cancer.
He's a bit ridiculous, to say the least, but I've come to realize that he just wants to make sure that he has done everything to take care of me.
He's been SUCH a peach during the pregnancy so far.
He holds my hair back while I puke....and tells me I'm beautiful.
11:45pm and I want a sandwich? He's alllllll over it. Even though it's probably not going to stick...
He doesn't begrudge me for taking up the ENTIRE bed because of weird positions I've taken to sleeping in whilst he clings the edge.
He doesn't make me feel bad for not getting anything done, he applauds it. Haha.
His main goal is to make sure that I am happy, comfortable, and loved.
I know he'll feel that same love and devotion for our child.
What more can you ask for in a husband and father than that?
The laundry to be put away, would be nice....
but I'm not greedy. :)
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