Cracklin' Rose

Oh man. Y'all. I'm sure someone will respond to this blog's post better than I will, but c'mon. How can I NOT blog about this?? Could it be that AnnieAngel is my husband's lovah? Forget cleaning the toilets on a weekly basis. How am I supposed to compete with a woman who makes fresh juice for her husband every morning and doesn't bore him to death with trivial matters during breakfast?? And beats her children pre-emptively.

But on a serious note, I'm an open and accepting kinda gal (all the best bathroom walls say so), and if this is how AnnieAngel chooses to live her life then who am I to judge? If living to serve her husband is what she's devoted her life to then it appears she's doing a bang up job. Except in the bedroom, where she never initiates sex. Because she isn't a whore.

No really. Go to the site.

After some much needed soul searching at the Target and dinner out with the girls on J's credit card, I've decided to forgive and move on. (He was v generous btw.)

This drama is complete. Move it along. Nothing to see here.

I'm also enrolling at the local uni to recertify and possibly masters myself this coming fall. Not sure about the latter - depends on whether a higher degree would hinder or help my job search.  So, that frightening decision is made. I wonder if I'll actually go to classes this time around.

 

Shelbug :) remarked that this seems out of character for J, and she's right. Now that I've had a day to cool down and talk trash about the man I love, I'm free to explore why I reacted so strongly to his jackassedness. It is out of character for him, which I guess is part of the reason that I'm reacting so negatively. 

I love my husband. I adore him, so I think that's why his sudden about face has hit me so hard. I hate disappointing him. I also hate being told what to do. Puts us in an awkward position now doesn't it.  But, if he has a problem with me, it's good that he tells me, right? Rather than letting it fester to the point of divorce. (His words. Not mine.) At least I know.

Maybe it's his job. He's recently switched to a position that gives him a lot more responsibility, so much so that he doesn't have enough time in the day to finish his to do list (which is why I don't make to do lists. I hate setting myself up for disappointment.). That's stressful for a guy like him.  And he's the new guy on the floor and he's gotta prove himself - not easy on the ego, since Ph.d's are notoriously sphincterish in his field and always looking to undermine. Also, he's used to everyone liking him or at least begrudgingly respecting his very big brain, and since he's new to the floor... well.... So he's had it rough these past few months.

Couple that with a mini-van that's decided to put itself into hospice, and a budget that could make a new van payment but doesn't really want to... mix thoroughly, trip over laundry pile one too many times and voila: the straw that broke the proverbial camel's back.

But I'm finding it difficult to say that I should have Donna Reeded myself. I have supported him. I have listened to him talk about work, and listen to his worries. I've told him that I am willing to relocate, to leave behind my family and friends, to pull our kids out of everything familiar if it will help his comfort level at work.  I keep my mouth shut when he disappears into his office for hours at a time checking his e-bay because I figured he needs extra time to unwind and count his money and figure out his next financial move or whatever it is he does while he's in there. I've taught his baby sign language for God's sake.  The only thing I feel I haven't done is tidied the house consistently and big freakin' deal. So your parents can't go into our bedroom when they visit. So what?! Or maybe I'm missing something much bigger. Maybe because my feelings are still hurt.

I'm glad he went away on a business trip. I needed the time apart, because if he'd been here yesterday and this morning, things couldn't have ended well.  His trip ends tomorrow night.  He called last night, but I let it go to the machine because I am petty and not ready to talk. He said he made it to South Carolina and that he misses us and loves us and that he loves me, and he sounded thoroughly... sad. And to that I said good. Swim in it 'til you get pruney. 

Until I listened to his message again, and then I felt sorry for him. Who hasn't said things they mean and need to say, but said them unkindly and then regretted it?

Still, I'm putting serious thought into my recertification. I don't like how it feels to know that I'm entirely dependent on anyone else. I don't like it at all.

 

You know, I've started this entry 4 different times trying to make it funny, but I can't. J had a little heart to heart with me yesterday wherein he expressed his feelings of frustration with my lack of organizational and Merry Maid skillz. He just doesn't see what it is I do all day given the state of our home and the height of Mt. Clean but Unputaway Apparel. He works his ass off all day to come home to me still in pajamas and sitting on the couch typing on the computer, where he suspects I haven't moved from from that morning.  Kinda like I am now.

To be fair to me, because this is my blog (BTIMB), that's not entirely true. They're not pajamas, they're lounge wear, and of course I've moved, jackass. Rosie's not gonna make her own mac'n cheese. Yet.

He accused me of leaving everything until the weekend for him to do.

Which again, BTIMB, that's not entirely true either. I do things during the week. I do laundry, I run the electro-lux, I unload the dishwasher, I run the errands... I do lots - sometimes all in one day. It usually gets undone real efficiently by the time he gets home. Hello, J(ackass), have you met your children?

He said that people get divorced over this type of thing. Yes, he pulled out the D word, and then when I scoffed at his drama he used his 'I'm serious' serious voice and said, "People pent things like this up and then years later they get divorced." And then I think he said he didn't want that to happen or didn't want this to turn into that... I don't remember, but I'm pretty sure it wasn't, "but aside from your problems with keeping the house straight, you're doing a bang up job raising the kids into responsible, happy, productive humans." I couldn't focus really because I heard the Divorce word and got cold all over.  Not because I think he's had the papers drawn, because he wouldn't. No. I got cold because I realized at that minute that I had no recourse. No plan B.

I'd quit my job 9 years ago to stay at home with Bear because J and I thought it'd be best for our family.  I'd let my certification lapse a year or so after Dee was born because I didn't think I'd ever go back to teaching. I wasn't very good at it anyway (have you seen my punctuation???), and I didn't have the time to attend the classes to keep it current anyway what with his all over the board traveling schedules.

I have nothing. I am a mom and that is it. And if that doesn't just chill you to the bone, then ... well... it should.

And then he had the nerve to want to talk it through, because, see, he had the advantage. He'd obviously been thinking it through - because J doesn't argue unless he's right, and he doesn't seriously discuss anything unless he's thought it through.  I declined, because I had nothing of value to add to the conversation - aside from a litany of jackasses, motherfuckers, mommas boys... you know, the healthy stuff that gets things like this resolved. That and clearly I was at the disadvantage because sometimes he's right. Sometimes I don't get out of my pajamas all day, and sometimes I do spend the majority of the day on line. I'm a terrible housekeeper, and lazy about laundry.  But I am there for my children. I am emotionally available for him. We have clean clothing, it's just on the dryer waiting for the laundry fairy to take it home.

So I escaped to Rosie's room to get her up from her nap, and hold her and recharge, and of course he follows me because he wants my thoughts on it. He wants to know how he can help me be more organized and on top of the house. And all I could do was cry. I just wanted to spit venom at him, to hurt him as much as I hurt, to switch skins with him so he could feel how raw and betrayed I felt. All I could say was that he was right,  when someone is only succeeding at half of their job, they aren't really succeeding at all, and that because it is important to him the house will be in order from top to bottom by 5 p.m. every night, especially on Fridays so he doesn't have to feel guilty about not wanting to FUCKING LIFTING A FINGER TO HELP ME ON THE WEEKENDS. But that wasn't good enough for him. He wanted to dwell into why I have such a hard time staying organized, and how it's not about him really, but MY happiness, and blah blah psycho-babble bullshit.

So I did the only thing I could do, left him mid-sentence, took my baby to the main floor, set her sick 102.3 temperature havin' ass in the living room and ignored her, or stepped over her, or put off her tiny arms lifted pleas to be held and comforted so that he could have a clean house. Because when I agreed to give up my life 9 years ago, it was really so that he could live in a sparkling house. Screw the kids.

He left this morning (left a clean house though!) to travel for 2 days. (Thanks for the kiss good-bye. Oh, wait? There was no kiss? Or maybe I slept through it being that I was up from 1 - 4 with Rosie while she moaned and cried with the sickness YOU gave her.) The girls are on spring break. Rosie's sick and burn your skin hot to the touch. And I'm in this alone. And bitter. Oh boy am I bitter.

So let me get this straight. In the two hours a day Rosie naps, I am supposed to clean the house, do the laundry, plan a nutritious and delicious dinner, and find the "me time" I need to finish my novel, love myself, and refill my dipper so that I can give freely to others?

Jackass.

and the idiot next to you keeps coughing and spreading the bird flu? That'd be my husband. No, he doesn't have the dred bird flu (or so we think!), but he does have a fever and a cough and a general feeling of malaise. (Check me out with the french.  Woot! Woot!) I told him that no one wants a sick person at a meeting but he believes that people do, and therefore will be spreading the plague via Com-Air.

Just a little heads up.

Other things....

My daughter's cat got the snot kicked out of her a week ago. As a result she has 2 pretty seriously gross and serious sets of puncture wounds on her tail. Green, pussy, ga-ross! puncture wounds that smell bad and need to be squzen (squoze!) twice daily. DAAAHHHH! She's on antiobotics and stuff, so don't you worry and call the ASPCA or MENSA or ACLU or anything. The ickiest part is that now that she's feeling better and no longer wants to hide, she wants to cuddle on my lap. Thereby leaving GREEN PUSS on me. *shudder* She's a pussy pussy? Yep. I went there.

On a political front... do we really have 2 more years of that dillrod?

 

 

Do you ever wonder if your mate would be distraught if you for whatever reason left them? It's not something I do, because to be honest, why would I leave him? He gives me stuff. Still, on occasion, like when I see this Nelly/Tim McGraw video wonder just how J would react. Would he be lost? Would he shrug and move onto blonder, thinner pastures? Or, most importantly, would he try to win me back with song?

'Cause, c'mon, a man who writes a song for you? Sex-ay. A man who writes a song for you in an attempt to win you back? Really fuckin' nice. I guess. Depending on the reason you left. "I'm sorry I put my dick in that other woman, " is not as romantic as, say, "I'm sorry I ignored your needs." 

J wrote a song for me once. In his head, and he sang it to me in bed. It wasn't because he needed my forgiveness, but because he's cute like that. Tragically I don't remember what it was about exactly, but he said my name several times and that made me happy.