Oh, Daddio

Over the past week, MB has done most of the laundry and several loads of dishes.  He has put effort into making the kids clean their rooms and MAINTAIN the clean status.  He even offered to cook supper last night (I declined and cooked myself because I was not in the mood for Ramen.) He has also been in a particularly “naughty” mood in the bedroom.  Six months ago, I’d have thought my husband had morphed into the perfect man.

 

But, unfortunately, I cannot get over being angry about other things long enough to appreciate this recent change in behavior.  I stew over the lack of communication in our marriage.  I never know what is going on and feel like I’m just left behind, the last to know.  Sometimes, I know afterwards or as he’s walking out the door. 

 

I also feel as if my every move is under scrutiny and nothing short of perfection is acceptable.  Everything from how I offer treats to the number of corn dogs I cook has been questioned.  To be honest, I am VERY TIRED OF IT. 

 

In contrast, SuperDad has let the kids play outside in the rain two weekends in a row and laughed when his youngest son punched his sister in the face.

 

In spite of advice to do so, I don’t know if I should “let go” of my anger and try to appreciate his household accomplishments at face value.  Is that “diminishing” my unmet needs that are the root of my anger? Will thanking him for washing a load of towels make him see that I need him to talk to me about decisions before he makes them?   Will he suddenly see the error of his ways if I lavish praise over running the dishwasher?

 

I do know that I should tone down the snark and fury routine.  (If for no other reason than I broke the TV remote this weekend and I’m running out of things to break and getting up to change the channel really sucks.)  It’s getting me nowhere and just causing more problems. Not the least of is that I now have to learn to repair sheetrock.

 

On top of all of the communication issue, there is the baby dilemma.  I want one.  BAD.  But do I want it with him?   I thought I did.  But now, I’m seeing more and more behavior that I do not want to co-parent against.  Also, mine would just be yet another baby to him and not THE baby as it will be to me.  I want to share every experience, every flutter, every kick, every drop of glorious vomit, with someone who will appreciate it for the novelty that it is to me.  Not to mention the freaking miracle of modern medicine that it would take to get me pregnant. 

Annoyance Level: Mosquito

Monkey Butt seemingly lives to annoy me to tears.  When he’s not teasing or poking me, he has discovered a new tactic, singing at the top of his lungs 5 yr old style.  His song of choice: THE BATTLE OF NEW ORLEANS…. Unfortunately he doesn’t remember all of the lyrics so his scrambled version goes a little like this:

In 1814 we took a little trip
Along with Colonel Jackson down the mighty Mississip.
We took a little bacon and we took a little beans
And we caught the bloody British in the town of New Orleans.

Yeah, they ran through the briars and they ran through the brambles
And they ran through the bushes where a rabbit couldn’t go.
They ran so fast that the hounds couldn’t catch ‘em
Down the Mississippi to the Gulf of Mexico.

We fired our guns and the British kept a’comin.
There wasn’t nigh as many as there was a while ago.
We fired once more and they began to runnin’ on
Down the Mississippi to the Gulf of Mexico.

Not Your Angel of the Morning

Monkey Butt is mad at me.  What else is new, right?  But this time, it’s over a specific disagreement that we’re having alot lately, specifically nookie.  For the past two weeks, I have been forced out of my slumber by my begging husband around the 4:30am time of NIGHT.  Pay attention, I consider this time to be still NIGHT, as in for rest.  MB considers it MORNING and is ready for a little good morning action. Personally, if I’m having sex at 4am, it’s because I haven’t been to sleep yet from the day before.  Since I’m not in college anymore, I don’t party like that any longer so that’s NOT the case.  I’ve explained time and time again that at 4:30am I’m not able to wake up enough for THAT and TBH, I don’t really want to try.  So maybe it’s sad that I prefer sleep to sex but then again, a couple weeks ago, I told someone that I might be willing to give up sex if I could have daily foot massages instead.

Sleep has become a priority to me lately.  Partly because of the insomnia I went through over the summer; partly because I’m SO tired lately.

This morning I told him that he could do what he wanted……………. just don’t wake me up.

And Out of the Rain… A Miracle

Friday night while Monkey Butt went to get the kids, I went to the grocery store.  Halfway through the frozen foods department, I heard thunder.  Through the windows at the end of the aisle, I could see rain pouring out of the dark sky.  I was pissed.  I had driven the car.  The teeny tiny sports car with the little trunk is not the best choice for grocery shopping but my SUV is safer for the kids so I’d agreed to the swap.  Looking at that rain and my sandals, I was not happy.  I lingered over the meat department and browsed sections I rarely give a glance in an unsuccessful attempt to ride the storm out.  I glared out the windows while I stood in the check-out line.  Once out the door, the sidewalks and buggy ramps were blocked by people who had moved their vehicles to the front door canopy to load their purchases.  I could not get the buggy off the sidewalk and was in no hurry so I waited…. impatiently.  Just as the blocking vehicle closest to me pulled into traffic, I looked up to see my husband pulling through the puddles.  When I wasn’t at home, he drove the couple extra blocks to the supermarket to assist me in loading the groceries.  As I stood under the back gate (what do you call those doors?)  out of the rain, with Monkey Butt getting soaked, we put the groceries in the SUV.  I realized…. he has his moments…. and this one took the cake.

Bringing Home the Bacon

Okay so really it’s more like pressed ham but the good news is that I’M WORKING AGAIN.  It is exciting to wake up knowing that I have something to do today other than laundry.  (Why is it that even when laundry was all I had to do all day I couldn’t catch up?  It’s like the post office.  The laundry never stops.)  I have a reason to shower daily again.  I can wear clothing that wasn’t manufactured by Hanes.  I’M WEARING MAKEUP AGAIN.

Back to the job, I’m proofreading again.  (Who would have ever thought that I’d end up on THAT career path?)  However, this time I’m proofing ad copy at a publishing company rather than audit reports and tax files.  I have a large office in a loverly shade of light yellow but it’s most important feature is

THE DOOR!

At my last job, internal offices did not have doors but rather arched “openings” to encourage more interaction.  Personally I think it was so they could make sure you were working at all times.  At the job before that, my office had 4 doors!  Instead of privacy, the doors ensured my office was a central hub of the office, more of an busy intersection feel than a productive place to work.  It’s rather sad that I’m so excited over a simple door moreso than the 100% employer paid health insurance or the 401k both of which start immediately with no waiting period.  But I’m a simple girl who appreciates the simple things in life, which this week is a DOOR!

Outsourcing

I’ve noticed a recent trend in local journalism.  As of late, both our statewide newspaper and our local television news reports have taking to citing ridiculous sources.  A story on gang violence last night quoted WIKIPEDIA in the history of the gang.  A recent murder victim’s MYSPACE page was ”researched” and comments were read.  “The victim’s myspace page revealed that she was loved and popular.” WTF? When did Wiki and myspace leave the pop culture phase and morph into serious journalistic sources? 

Wiki is a good source for information in a pinch but I’d never cite it for an academic assignment and certainly not for my CAREER IN JOURNALISM.  That’s like quoting Dan Rather.  Wiki is a USER MODIFIED site.  An acquaintance’s ex-husband is an asshole of the tinfoil hat variety.  A friend of mine begs her frequently for permission to “edit” said ex-husband’s wiki page.  Because, you know, any moron can have a wikipage now.  It’s practically myspace without the layout formatting.

Take 2 of these & Call me in the morning

My body is revolting against me.  I’m not sure if it’s the heat or the unemployment.  I can’t sleep, I can’t focus, and I can’t quit going to the bathroom.  I’m constantly thirsty, which explains the frequent urinating.  I havemunchies like a stoner.  I took a few shots of Jack Daniels the other night.  Usually liquor makes me sleepy after it makes me mean.  I started a fight with Monkey Butt but I never got sleepy.  My  inner-hypochondriac is going at hyperspeed trying to decide if I am have diabetes, depression, or just cabin-fever.

When the going gets tough, the tough get going

I have the itch.  As long as I can remember, every couple years, I get this itch.

{No, it’s not something that I picked up from a one-night stand, Chrissy.  That would be you, remember } 

My momma swears that I have gypsy blood.  I can’t stay in one place.  When I was a teen, I bounced back and forth between houses.  In college, I hopscotched my way through the different campuses.  I moved across the state and back in a matter of years.  And then, I decided to play grown-up and put down roots.  It’s been over 3 years now.    I am starting to feel the need to wander.

Do I wander when I get manic or when I get depressive?  Well, that, my dear, is a point to ponder….

Monkey Butt went and checked out my finding.  He liked it too.  Enough that he’s going to call the mortgage lender tomorrow.  And it could just be another of my pipe dreams, but it could end up a 4 bedroom,3 bath way to scratch my itch.  (Oh, and did I mention the inground pool?  I can’t have what I really want so I might as well have a great tan!!)

hurt

I’ve been on a rather masochist bender. Not of the S&M variety, that might be preferable compared to the emotional flogging I’ve been inflicting upon myself as of late. 

Gilles Deleuze wrote that the sadist attempts to destroy the ego in an efforty to unify the id and super-ego, in effect gratifying the most base desires the sadist can express while ignoring or completely suppressing the will of the ego, or of the conscience.  So am I exposing myself to things that my conscience/common sense tries to scream will hurt me because I somehow think that that pain will get me close to my goal?  Insanity is most likely closer to the truth.

I hurt myself today
To see if I still feel
I focus on the pain
The only thing that’s real
The needle tears a hold
The old familiar sting
Try to kill it all away
But I remember everything

What am I doing to myself?  Not only am I hurting myself, I am hurting my relationships with other people and fellowships that once brought me such joy.  

Sometimes, I think it is selfishness above all else.  Do I enjoy wallowing in self-pity? 

Self Pity……

Party of ONE?  Your table is ready….

 

 

the eternal ONE…. also known as the last 3 letters of ALONE…… and NONE……