Marriage – Confessions of an Introvert

Cat vs Husband

Good news! After a trial week working from home, my husband has been given the green light to work every other week from the “home office.” Yes, folks Fun Dad is coming home, at least fortnightly. No, that’s not right, but I really want to use that word, so go with it.

He will be setting up an elaborate bat cave downstairs, whereupon he will put out nationwide construction fires and calm down very panicky subcontractors and clients. He’s my Bruce Wayne of Project Management.

One problem.

Mark doesn’t leave the house. Ever. Mark is also somewhat allergic to cats, or something in the house anyways, and by the end of his trial period last week he was barely breathing and was a snotty, red-nosed, wheezing mess. I think this has been made worse since he really hasn’t lived at home in roughly 5 years, so any tolerance he had built up prior to has been blown away by weeks away with regular housekeeping, mints on pillows and other such luxuries.

So, the question becomes this. What can I do with my kitty-cat? My Ezra. My snuggle bunny since 1999. My beautiful black cat, who’s not once peed outside her litterbox, and outside of an occasional runny nose and poop danglers, has been an exemplary cat?

Here’s where your help comes in. Below I have outlined a complicated point system determining husband and cat’s attractions and detractions. At the end, we can decide which one will have to go.

Point Husband: Husband takes up less of the bed at night than Cat.

Point Cat: Husband snores louder.

Point to each: BOTH have the annoying trait of poking at me for attention after the kids have gone to sleep and I finally have 2 minutes to myself. Both eventually bite if they are overstimulated.

Point Husband: I don’t have to scoop husband’s poop.

Point Cat: Cat does not take 30 minute poops 3X a day.

Point Husband: Husband sheds less. Unless he’s shaving, then the sink looks like a yeti trimmed his pubes. Wash it down the drain MAN!

Point Husband: Husband helps around the house more.

Point Cat: Husband does not get excited when I take naps, whereas Cat is thrilled.

Point to each: Both hate dogs. Con. Neither would pick up poop if we finally grant my oldest’s wish to give him a dog.

Point Cat: Cat loves my new boots. She rubs her face on them in appreciation. Husband goes, “WHERE’D YOU GET THOSE?!” Dang, I didn’t think he’d notice since I still have the boxes hidden in the car.

Point Husband: Husband is a pro traveler. Not once during our last trip did he howl from his cage.

So, there you have it folks. Who do I keep?

How about some who’s cuter pics?

I don’t know, it’s a tough call.

Happy Birthday You

To my husband on his birthday, an Irish blessing personalized by his very German, very un-poetic wife:

May the SPF always be applied,

May your pool never be cloudy,

and your wifi never out.

May the middle seat always be empty,

and douchebags far away.

May your wife always be in the mood upon the dawn of weekend

and kids that sleep like rocks.

May there always be a project,

with only one trip to make.

May your children always find you cool,

and never slightly dorky.

Though life keeps us going,

may it always be alight

with joy, love and laughter

with a fart joke made to order.

Love you my dear. Thanks for sharing over half your years on this planet with me.

Sundays

I love my kids. I love my husband. With all my heart. HOWEVER, at this moment, I want them to all GO AWAY.

First, I just Febrezed my husband’s shorts and the couch he was polluting with his ass. While he was laying on said couch in said shorts. I say, I am getting the odor at its source. He complains it’s cold. Whiner.

Second, my 6YO’s meds are off. We are in the process of finding the right dosage level, and I am supposed to be patient while we are doing this. Patience is not one of my strong suits. I am pretty sure the pharmacist at Rite Aid is a sick sadist and gave us placebo sugar pills instead of ADHD medication, because this kid is off the charts lately. He hasn’t held still or stopped making noise since he woke up this morning. It’s like the Energizer Bunny on steroids. As a disclaimer, I have been anti-medicating kids since Day 1 and fought for YEARS to put him on a controlled substance for his ADHD and sensory issues. We went everywhere, tried everything, and tested tested tested. The only saving grace has been this medicine. At first, it was like a miracle. He was still my boy, personality, appetite and energy intact, it was just less insane. I am not calling him crazy, but sometimes his mind would go so fast and his body would totally spaz, it was hard to watch him get lost in his own body. This medicine seemed to help him keep up with himself. But now, whether he has grown a tolerance for it or because he is growing like a weed, it has started to lose its effectiveness. He’s become the scapegoat in school again – the one all the other kids blame when things go bad. 95% of the time, he is actually the culprit, but the other 5% of the time, he gets blamed because it’s easy to believe he was the instigator.

The thing I love about my boy is he’s a lover. He wants to entertain, to be loved, to make people laugh. Gosh, not sure where he’d get that from eh? He’s just a bit more boisterous than I ever was. With his meds off again, we seem to be back to square one and seem to have lost all the momentum we have gained. The inner struggle Mark and I go through is endless. Is he truly not in control of himself or is this a 6YO testing his boundaries? Do we punish? Do we seek other treatment? Do we blame the disorder or make him take responsiblity for his own actions? We try to maintain a balance of being responsible for his own actions and treating his behavioral problems.

Like I said, my patience level is not at its peak at the moment. At this point, at 7:30 on a Sunday night, I am all for pumping him full of Valium just so I can think clearly for two seconds without having to answer why the lights blur when he squints his eyes, how to find home on Google maps, all while dodging Nerf darts that him, his dad and sister are currently battling each other with. But that’s wrong, I know this.

Next, my daughter is in a stage that has geniusly been termed the Fucking Fours. Ahh, the age of 4. Still adorable, getting smarter by the second, but yet still incapable of finding her hat and coat, which is always in the same place – on the floor where she left it. The most dramatic person I’ve ever met. Today, I put my arms on her shoulders and gently (seriously) moved her aside as I walked by her in the hallway. She proceeded to execute the most dramatic fake fall I have ever seen. Academy Awards (ahem Oscars, sorry rebranded, forgot) have been won for less acting. As she looks dramatically over her fallen shoulder up from the ground at me, she exclaims MOM! Why did you push me? SOB! Good Lord child.

I should write a book just on the insane stuff that comes out of her mouth. I am truly terrified and can honestly not look her preschool teachers in the eye for fear of what she has told them about her homelife. Today, she told my husband to quit being a pain in the ass, which to be fair, he is, but I wish she wouldn’t pick up everything I yell at him in the car. I thought you were watching that movie?? I didn’t spend 30K on a car so you could LISTEN to our front seat conversations! Next car, a limo with a dividing window, or maybe a police squad car, which would at least prevent the projectiles from coming my way, but wouldn’t quite mute the sound, unless we got that plastic divider thing you see in some COPS episodes. OK, I am giving this waaay too much thought. Then, she also tells us we have to kiss her like we’re married, which is her tilting her head to one side and shaking her head back and forth, so as to get continuous movement while kissing. Nice huh? What kind of princess porn am I letting her watch? Where is she getting this stuff?

Also, her most favorite daily accomplishment? The one she yells to me with unabashed pride at the end of school, in restaurants or at Grandma’s house? MOM! I didn’t poop my pants today! G! That is so exciting! I am glad I have set the bar so high for my youngest!!! I don’t need her to start reading, know her colors, I just need her not to poop in her pants. Mensa here we come.

And finally, my traveling husband. We are a month into this new job and five days before my period, therefore, I am ready for him to go back to where he’s working. I let him drive this morning and since I am sorely out of practice with being a passenger, I could not help the backseat driving that comes ripping from my mouth. But to be fair to ME, he does pull too far forward in a driveway and does appear to be hanging out in the street, he DID almost hit that guy in the Costco parking lot because he was so concerned with saving my bottle of wine rolling around in the backseat, and he really didn’t see that car coming from his right (which, I was closer to, therefore, was simply helping him out). This resulted in an angry chinese fire drill in a very busy Costco parking lot, when he REFUSED to drive with me any longer and told me I am driving. Really Mark? Aren’t we overreacting just a tad? Now I know where G gets her dramatic side from. Yeesh.

Then he takes us to dinner at Olive Garden. OK OK, I admit I have super simple taste, but I LOVE me some Olive Garden. He then FORCES me to get dessert. Bastard. Problem is, he wants to share. JENNY DOESN’T SHARE FOOD!!! We get the chocolate cake, which has four layers of awesomeness, and where does he start? The back! The best freakin part! He’s totally cheating! He is stealing the essence of the dessert while I am dutifully starting at the tip and working my way up to the delicious finale. GOD!

Needless to say, I need a break. But, it’s Sunday, I have papers to sign, lunches to pack, a husband who needs to catch a 6 AM flight, and a week to prepare for Easter, so no rest for the weary. Although, I guess I could watch just one episode of Parks And Recreation before I start right?

MIA

Sorry I’ve been MIA this week. Christmas, a full week of work, holiday parties, more food inhaled than humanly possible, combined with a lingering sadness that I can’t quite kick has made the desire to be funny put on the back-burner.

But, my sister is sitting in a hospital room with one sick kid at home with Dad and the other with her in a cramped, non-private room getting roto rootered every so often, just enough so that he screams bloody murder and wakes up just enough to be a squirmy, not-feeling-so-bad 7 month old in a tiny cage of a crib so that she can do nothing but try desperately to entertain him until the next round of suctioning. (which, by the way is awesome. Why don’t they pass these things out to go home? Best snot suckers EVER.). So for her, I have to try to come up with something funny to lighten the mood right? OK, here goes…

I think motherhood is off the table for the moment, as I can’t quite stop kissing on my kids and being thankful for them. So… let’s find bigger game…

Marriage? I can give a brief taste of the book I just finished that I mentioned a few weeks ago. Created to Be His Help Meet was all sorts of fun to read and has made for quite the after the kids go to bed conversation topics.

In a nutshell, Debi Pearl hates women. We are not supposed to have fun, leave our children or our husbands. EVER. Babysitters make you a horrible mother. Don’t even get me started on how much I am a failure for working. If she had her way, I’d be stoned on sight.

In addition to homeschooling our delightful children who are never to leave our sight, we should do all the household work…changing light bulbs, mowing the lawn, taking out trash, painting the shed, fixing the car, hand whittling kitchen chairs, all so our husbands can relax after a long hard day’s work. Not only should we do these things, but we should do them joyfully. Joyfully! HA! THEN after a full day of sheer joy, we are supposed to jump in bed and please him sexually so that he doesn’t stray, as men are wont to do if they aren’t pleased in every way. Yes, ladies, this book has been put in the freezer many a night, which was then followed by a stiff drink and leaving the dirty dishes to SIT in all their glorious dirtiness.

Needless to say, I can’t quite accomplish this attitude in my home. Let’s face it, even if I wanted to turn over a new leaf and be a reverent, joyful slave, my husband would NEVER be able to take me seriously. When you have a solid 17 year relationship built on mutual sarcasm and self-deprecation, being that positive just doesn’t quite fit my personality.

And really, who wouldn’t want me this way? Doesn’t every husband need a bit of ball busting every now and again? Can you imagine if NO ONE ever told him he was wrong? G would be wearing purple polka dot pants and bright pink plaid shirts with mismatched socks every single day. Will would never be allowed to bring his sexy back, put a ring on it, or vogue in any way. He would just be this mash of jerky offbeat gyrations my husband calls dancing. (I love you honey, I worship at your altar of smartness, but let’s face it, Channing Tatum you are not on the dancefloor.)

If I was a reverent super happy wife, who would teach my kiddos the greatest defense mechanism ever….sarcasm? When my husband teases me for being a “rich girl,” and then I break out my tiny violin (which totally does not annoy the piss out of him) when he talks of how SOOOO poor he was, we help to put each other in perspective with a little touch of dry humor and teasing. All in good fun I say.

Ms. Pearl, the ultimate help meet, would just listen and nod enthusiastically when my engineer husband makes the simplest task the most complicated, confusing, full set of blueprints, series of instructions that you ultimately give up and fall asleep while he is “explaining” how this will work instead of just doing it.

She would kiss his feet just for hanging the curtain rods a few inches from the top of the ceiling so the bottom of the curtains have at least a foot of clearance betwen them and the floor.

She would revel in his awesomeness when he proposes gunmetal gray floors because they won’t ever show dirt. She would lovingly buy his 30 different types of saws while she enjoys her one pair of sensible black shoes.

She would of course be supportive of his NEED for fog lamps on his truck while you have a phone my great grandma would laugh at.

OK – so maybe I am not the ideal wife, but let’s face it, I am WAAAY funnier than Ms. Pearl will ever be. I think that’s a much better arrangement. What do you think honey??

Created to Be His Help Meet: Mark Your Calendars…This Sh!Ts about to go Down!!

Created to Be His Help Meet: Discover How God Can Make Your Marriage Glorious: Debi Pearl: 9781892112606: Amazon.com: Books.

So, my cousin thought she’d give me a book to eviserate after my mention of one of our church ladies being obedient to her husband and being thankful for it. So no one goes after her, she gave it to me as a joke, not because she believed a word of it.

I am 6 chapters in, and have run the gamut of emotions with this book. A lot of it was laughing out loud and yelling, “Mark! Read this part!” Some of it is utter disbelief that in 2012, almost 2013, there are people still out there who believe this pile of crap coated with crazy.

Oh, it’s on Ms. Pearl. It’s so on. If I am taking a break from my awesome smut collection to be “taught” by you, please know that a most awesome book review will be coming your way shortly.

I hope the rest of you enjoy. If God is actually like the God within her pages, He will not be pleased.

It’s coming, be warned….

Twilight…Goodbye Old Friend

Of course I saw Breaking Dawn 2 this weekend. Thought I’d give you my two cents, because really, you can’t judge the critics’ reviews, because they have no idea what they are talking about. Only fans of the book in my opinion have judging rights.

Yes, I am the typical demographic for an older Twihard. Mid-30s, married, mother of two, voracious reader. What pulls us in? For me, it’s pretty simple. Total and utter escapism. A man who craves you, who is so intensely in love with you he watches you sleep. He would rather die than live without you. He’s beautiful and sparkly and never ages. And Stephenie Meyer creates such a new and interesting vampire folklore, you become entrenched in these new vampires and the all the new rules she presents. Admit it fans, you really wanted to be a vampire when you finished Breaking Dawn amirite?

Yes, in real life Edward would be super annoying. Watching me sleep? Not letting me hang out with my friends? Having to suppress a constant desire to eat me? Yes, in real life his intensity and blood lust would be worrisome. But I say relax feminists. It’s escapism. It’s for us women who have grown up, become responsible, had children who are constantly needing something, a husband who, shock and surprise, is human with feelings and needs of his own. We pay bills, are constantly making hard decisions and always doubting those that we make. So, Twilight for me was not Bella submitting to Edward. It was a fantasy world where she is worshiped and has a devoted partner. One who has tons of money because your sister in law can see the future and plays the stock market. Whose only worry (at the end anyways) is finding a deer or mountain lion to eat for dinner. Sounds like fun right? Let me have my fun people.

Ok, back to the movie. Yes, I know girl at work who hates me and makes passive aggressive side comments about how stupid the movies are, the movies are kind of cheesy. They had a tough time developing a respectable werewolf. The werewolf telepathy in BD1 was cringe-worthy. I know they are cheesy. And this movie did have a few laugh out loud at inappropriate moments. Aro’s Pee-Wee Herman-esque glee at meeting Renesmee was hilarious. Bella running in front of a very obvious green screen as a new vampire. Renesmee’s aging was a bit creepy, but they did what they could. But honestly, Bill Condon and screenwriter Melissa Rosenberg took an awesome second half of the book and translated it perfectly for us fans. I kept wondering how they’d take the most anti-climatic fight scene in book history and make it interesting on screen, but they did it. Slow clap, Breaking Dawn, slow clap. It. Was. Awesome. And yes, this introvert yelled “WHAT THE WHAT?” in the theater when “the twist” happened. I was freaking out, as I am always totally sucked in at movies and never have them figured out before it’s totally spelled out for me.

If you haven’t read and loved the books, you probably won’t like or even understand this movie. For me, this was a final love letter to the books’ fans. It wasn’t meant for anyone but us. Would I drag my husband to it? No, but I will make him do a Twilight DVD marathon sometime in the not too distant future. You know, to make up for the August through February football season, where every TV in the house is on from Thursday through Monday, with that annoying crowd cheering, ridiculous ever-changing rules and hilarious commentators filling time with asinine comments, such as this gem…”If Villa got another goal now it would change the scoreline completely.” (Yeah, I totally googled that.) I’m not going to waste my $10.50 to hear him make side comments the whole time. Last time I took him to a girl movie was Titanic (the first time, not the 3D time). At the end (SPOILER ALERT, but then, if you haven’t seen Titanic by now, forget it), when the whole theater is sobbing hysterically and I am beside myself with grief because of that stupid Celine Dion song, my husband, who after seeing old Rose throw the Heart of the Ocean into the sea, yells out, “What the heck? Now, that’s something to cry about!” So, yeah, not wasting my money taking him to the theater. I’ll take the side comments at a much cheaper and more intimate place thank you very much. But, don’t worry my dear, 50 Shades is coming, and that movie you will be drug to. But don’t worry honey, it will be worth your while 😉

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