Being married to a mule.

Ya know those couples who’ve been married for 43 years and you look at them and wonder to yourself “how the $&%! did they stay together for so long”?  I wonder this quite often.  Most of the time it’s because I’m thinking about how my husband drives me crazy, but there are also times when I can’t believe that he still chooses to be married to me as well!

And trust me when I say, sometimes I am in awe of the fact that my husband still claims to love me.   Here is what it’s like for him being married to me.

1.  I’m a moody, you-know-what.  I’ve always been that way I guess.  I’m sensitive to things like lack of sleep, hormones, caffeine.  Too much, or too little of any of these things and I’m headed for either a meltdown or homicidal rage.  And poor husband never knows which one it will be.    On a recent weekend evening, he had been outside doing some yard work while I was inside making a chicken casserole for dinner with homemade biscuits (one of his favorites).  I’d already put the casserole in the fridge to keep until dinner and was whipping up the batter for the biscuits when he came inside.  After loitering around for a bit giving me his very interesting description of his yard work, he stops, scans the kitchen and says ( in what I felt was an accusatory tone), “I thought you were making chicken casserole and biscuits?”, to which I replied loudly and with a slight growl:  “What the @$!& do you think I’m doing right now!?”.

I think he must have also asked her “I thought you were making chicken and biscuits” in an accusatory tone of voice.

Don’t ask.  I have no idea why I flipped at such a benign question.  It’s just what happens sometimes.  But after doing this two or three times, and my husband using his humor to try to defuse the situation, I realized that I was very hormonal  that particular day–that my husband wasn’t being a complete jerk.  So, I rallied my Will Power troops and made a concerted effort to change things around.

2. I’m a loner.  This can often be a very difficult trait to contend with in marriage because the partner who is the loner wants way more alone time then the partner who is not.  My husband is an extrovert.  He thrives off others’ energy, loves to banter, joke and talk about day-to-day things.  I’m an introvert.  I like to think alone, process alone and be alone much of the time.  What my poor husband repeatedly fails to understand is that me wanting alone time has nothing to do with me not wanting to be around him.

Well, I guess it does actually– but not for the reasons he thinks.

Sometimes I could really use a cabin in the middle of nowhere. As long as it had Wi-Fi.

3. I’m impatient.   With everything.  And almost everyone.  But especially Husband.  He does everything so s-l-o-w-l-y it kills me!  I can actually feel my heart start to race.  For instance, finding a parking spot.  Not a hard thing to do right?  I whiz up and down the aisles scanning the spots, using peripheral vision….I may take out a person or two in the process, but hey, I got a spot closest to the entrance didn’t I?  Not him.  He drives up and down the aisles as though he were someone walking through an art museum pausing to look at all the pictures.  He lets everyone go first, cranes his head left and right, all the while talking, talking, talking.

Or getting ready to go somewhere.  I’m fast, efficient, I shower in five minutes, dress in five minutes and am standing at the door waiting.  It takes my husband about 10 minutes just to put on his shoes.  He sits on our mudroom bench telling me some mundane story about someone and his brother as he painstakingly slowly laces up his shoes, fiddles with the tongue, wiggles his ankle around, pauses to find the word he’s trying to think of.  At this point, my palms are sweaty and my eyes are glazed over because I’m no longer listening to what he is saying, but trying to swallow down the sentence “will you hurry the %$&* up they’re expecting us in 15 minutes!!!!!!!!”.  And then just to put the cherry on top, as I’m sitting in the driver’s seat, car idling, he sticks his head out of the door again and asks me, “have you seen my hat?”.  This is when I begin talking to myself, saying things like “Let it go Michelle.  Let it go”.

My Husband is probably at the beginning of this line.

4. I don’t like to be told what to do.  No one does really, but I have a severe aversion to it, especially when my Husband is telling me what to do, and my reaction is often one of immaturity and stubbornness.  The thing is, my Husband is a very smart and practical man.  He doesn’t over-think the way I do, he’s patient and thorough and so when he decides to do something, it’s very often the right way to do it at the time.  The problem arises when he tells me how to do it.  He could tell me, “Honey, why don’t you put your pants on one leg at a time” and I would bark back that I don’t want to put them on one leg at a time, that I want to jump into them!  And I would probably try to do it just to spite him!!!  That is how annoying I can be.  And then after I’ve thoroughly embarrassed myself by indeed trying to jump into them and it doesn’t work, and I have to put them on one leg at a time, then I’m pissed at him.

This is all an example mind you–I’ve never tried to jump into my pants to spite my husband.  Have I gotten on the wrong highway before, adamant that it was the right way to go and barking at him as he sits in the passenger seat throwing up is arms and saying “okay, go ahead, guess we’re going on a joy ride”, only for me to discover that he was right and I was way, way wrong?   Oh yeah.  And more than once I believe.

This is what it looks like when Husband is trying to get me to lighten up, but when I feel it a much better way to channel my energy being grumpy at him.

For all of the ways that I am an annoying and difficult person to be married to, I do have at least one thing going for me.  I’m pretty aware of the fact that I’m annoying and difficult and I’m not too proud to try to remedy things so that I am a bit more tolerable.  Marriage is certainly teaching me about teamwork, compromise and humility.  And to be perfectly honest, I’m glad my husband is the way he is….because if he were like me, I’d kill him.

Wait…Let me rephrase that….

Hello?  Is anyone still there?

It’s been 4 months since my last post so if everyone has abandoned me, I completely understand.  Even when I did post, they were becoming few and far between.  I’ve missed writing and I’ve missed reading all the other blogs I love…..but I’m back in the saddle!!

There was no real excuse why I haven’t posted here, other than that I felt pretty busy over the winter and kind of lost the “oomph” to blog in the evenings.  I’ve realized though, how therapeutic it was for me to write and read and am really making an effort to get back to that.  I’ve cleaned up/organized my site a bit more and got up at 5:30 this morning to start anew!

So, with that, I hope everyone is doing well and I’d like to talk for a bit about the fact that the longer I’m a mother, the less sense I make.

Recently, I was vacuuming the house and the boys wanted to play with the vacuum.  I love it when they want to play with the vacuum because 1) they are occupied and not fighting or whining for a good 5 minutes and 2) they are cleaning my house at the same time.  So, I gladly handed it over.

Much to my dismay however, it didn’t prevent any fighting.  Somewhere along the line, someone took it from someone else, harsh words were exchanged, possibly a punch here or there and the next thing I know they’re both screeching and crying and I come around the corner to hear the vacuum loudly wheezing along with both of  the kids, mouths agape with sobs and playing tug-of-war with the vacuum itself.

As a side-note, our family dog is soundly sleeping on her dog bed about two feet from the scene–an indication that mayhem is so frequent in our house, it has become “background noise” for her.

My attempts to remedy the situation calmly, were met with intensified screaming “It’s my turn!!!” and  “No it’s my turn!!!: and more tugging of the vacuum.  So, now we have the loud vacuum, two screaming children and my own voice growing louder and louder because no one can hear me anyway over all the noise going on.

Finally, I come to my senses and shut the vacuum off, eliminating at least one annoying noise.  Then, I use the ever-handy “If you can’t share then no one will vacuum”, which was promptly met with more intensified screaming and “Noooo, I want to vacuum!!!”.  At this point, I’m feeling so frazzled that I belt out:

“If you two don’t start crying, you’re both going to go to your room”.

Huh?

Did I really just say that?

Now, this didn’t faze the boys one bit–probably because if and when I yell, they aren’t really paying attention to what I’m saying as much as they are noticing that mommy is losing it.  But I certainly noticed and, embarrassed by the fact that in trying to come across as extremely authoritative and threatening, I ended up sounding like an idiot.

I did this again recently as the boys were taking a bath.  As most normal kids do, my boys fight over who gets the winning seat in the front of the tub near the faucet.  To be honest, my youngest son really does get to sit there often, but only because he doesn’t waste time getting undressed and getting in to the tub like my oldest does, who has to engage in his nightly resistance to it.

This time, as the fight began, I actually took my youngest son and slid him to the back of the tub while my eldest excitedly climbed in to take his honorary seat at the front.  My youngest immediately began to cry and carry on and ask “why?  why? whhhhyyyy?” and I told him in the most matter-of-fact voice:   “Because most of the time you always sit in the front”.

Wait.

What?

These are two very clear examples of me messing up words, but there are plenty of other times when I don’t even get a coherent sentence out, when all I can do is spit and sputter and point my finger at them while they sit there staring at me trying to figure out just what the hell I’m trying to say.

I don’t usually sound this stupid.  It’s only in the midst of chaos, when there is crying, whining, fighting over something, when I’m trying to get something done that needs to get done and it’s all harder than it needs to be.  I get frazzled and frustrated and I don’t mean what I say…I mean, I don’t say what I mean.

What are some of your famously stupid one-liners?

Cracking up.

 

No, this isn’t a post about me cracking up in life and heading to the loony bin…..a good family friend of mine and fellow blogger gave me this LOL award!!!   KP is not only a great writer herself, but she’s also family and we’ve been bonding over blogging for a while now.  Here is a link to her hilarious blog:   http://opinionatedmommy.wordpress.com/

Here are 3 other blogs that I find very entertaining–please visit them if you get the chance.

1.  http://motherhoodwtf.wordpress.com/

2.  http://whatimeant2say.wordpress.com

3.  http://bloggingwhilenursing.com/

A guy goes in to see a psychologist. He says, “It seems I can’t make any friends. Can you help me, you fat slob?”

Thanks for stopping by my blog…I’ve been a bit lazy about it as of late….I’ll try and pick up the pace a bit:)

A love story

soooooo good::)

So, if you don’t really like sappy stories, don’t read on because this is about how much I love Swiss Cake Rolls.  Oh, and my husband too.

So, Husband and I dated when I was 17 and when he was 22.  We dated for four years while I was in college before I broke up with him (that’s another story altogether)   While in college, I used to love to eat Swiss Cake Rolls.  Those totally processed, disgusting chocolate, cream-filled snacks?  Yeah, I devoured them on a daily basis.  But, not only did I eat a ton of them, I ate them in this really, anal, “Type-A” kind of way:

First, I’d , carefully peel all of the chocolate off of the actual roll with my teeth and eat that.  This was usually a messy ordeal as the chocolate would break and fall all over the place.   Then, when that part was finished, I would eat the roll by slowly unraveling it as I went.  Totally weird, I know.  I couldn’t just open the package and take a bite, it had to be this long, intricate process and I don’t even know why.

And the whole time, my “boyfriend” (Husband) would sit in the driver’s seat of his truck and just watch me and ask me why the hell I couldn’t eat like a normal person and just bite it.  I’d be getting the chocolate all over his truck and he’d just sit there and shake his head at the ridiculousness that was his girlfriend.

Well, fast forward 17 years later.  Husband and I are married with two boys and one dog…..and I’ve recently purchased some Swiss Cake Rolls for the first time in YEARS.  I don’t know why, but for some reason I couldn’t resist them this time around at the grocery store.

So, Husband and I are sitting in the livingroom playing on our iPhones and chatting when I decide to grab a Swiss Cake Roll.  I plop back down on the couch and half-listen to his story as I automatically begin the two-phase process of eating my delectable treat.

Right in the middle of his sentence, as I’m clearly more focused on carefully unraveling my treat,  Husband looks over at me, pauses, and with a slow grin says to me “Oh, look at that…..we’re going Old School tonight with that Swiss Cake Roll aren’t we?”.

I burst out laughing at the fact that we are the only two people in the entire world who knows what he is referencing when he says that.  He’s seen me do this before, 17 years ago.  He was constantly cleaning up Swiss Cake Roll wrappers from his truck back then and seemed to always remember to grab me one when we made a quick stop at a convenient store.  And even though, he watched in confusion as I made the process of eating them more difficult than it had to be, while making a mess of his truck–he still loved me.

What is the point of this story?

I learn about love every single day being married.  What made me love my Husband 17 years ago is not exactly the same thing that make me love him today.  Back then, it was new and exciting and he was a little older and big and strong and funny and we were young and everything was easy.  Now, with kids and a mortgage and jobs, the “newness” of our love has faded……but only to make room for the even better stuff.

The fact that he is the only person in the entire world who is familiar with my ridiculous Swiss Cake Roll eating habits and still thinks I’m cute; the fact that he can imitate my father eating peanuts to perfection; the way he can tell who I’ve just gotten off of the phone with simply by hearing my voice or looking at my face.

Husband and I might not be as youthful, spontaneous or as exciting as we used to be, but we’ve got the memories and all it takes is a Swiss Cake Roll to take us back:)

Mommy’s Responsibility Chart

 

Recently, I purchased a “Responsibility Chart” for my two boys.  It’s a magnetic chart with various ‘chores’ as well as a slew of “Great Job” and “Way to Go” and “You’re the Best” magnets you can place next to each chore.  Some of the chores are standard ones like “Help set the table” or “pick up  toys”, but there are some favorites of mine that really pertain to my boys such as “keep hands to yourself” and “no whining”.

As I was hanging it and lining up all of their ‘chores’ with the giddy hope that it would eventually shape them to be hard-working children, I started to think how hypocritical I was being.  I mean, all in all it’s a great idea to instill responsibility and character in my children, but I began to ask myself, what would a “Responsibility Chart” look like for me?  I mean, they’re not perfect and neither am I.  There are certainly many areas in my life I could use some “Way to Go” magnets to put next to a chore for myself.

Here is what I imagine my “Mommy’s Responsibility Chart” would look like if there were such a thing, which I’m grateful there is not because I think I would suck at it.

1.  “Stop Playing on iPhone constantly”.   This is the first one that came to mind, simply because I just purchased a new iPhone so it’s all new to me and I’m entranced by all the bells and whistles.  I’m sure this will ware off eventually, but for now, it’s a hugely entertaining waste of time and constant irritation to my boys I’m sure.  I love to get up first thing in the morning, sip my coffee and sit at the kitchen bar, thumbs-a-flailing, while my boys stand at my knees asking for more juice, another bagel with cream cheese, so-and-so won’t share the Fire truck and on and on and on while I say whatever I need to stave them off for a minute– all the while not taking my eyes off the damn screen.  It’s pathetic really.  I should be enjoying waking up with my boys, cuddling with them on the couch sipping coffee while they have their morning snacks and juice and watching Dora–but for some sick reason I’m much more interested in hearing about Kim Kardashian’s 72-day marriage (Hey, at least we made it longer than they did!!!!).

2.  “Stop Yelling“.  This is another one that quickly came to mind.  Now, mind you, I don’t walk around the house screaming at the top of my lungs at my children or calling them names or being mean at all.  But, that being said, I used to be the lead singer in a band in high school and I have a serious set of lungs when I need to–and sometimes I use them more than I should.  When do I yell?  When I’ve told my boys 23 times not to hang off the handle of the stove while my banana bread is in the oven; when they’re screaming and wailing and fighting over a toy and beginning to get physical with one another and the only way to grab their attention is to be louder than they are; when they are upstairs yelling down to me asking “what is this?” and I tell them, “I can’t see what you’re talking about, what is it?” and they get irritated and say “Yes you do!  What is it??” and this goes on and on until finally I yell “stop yelling and just bring it down to me so I can see what you’re talking about!”.  Yes, I yell at them to stop yelling.  Yes, I get the hypocrisy.  No, it doesn’t work whatsoever.  Shut up.

3.  “Stop making them eat grapes for a snack while you sneak Oreos from the pantry when they’re not looking”.   This one really gets me.  I feel horrible about it because Oreos taste so damn good and I hate grapes.  Not that I dont’ let them have any cookies ever.  I let them have plenty of things like that, but not before I feel they’ve had enough “good” stuff first.   Again, totally hypocritical.  There really is no excuse for this.

4.  “Make more of an effort when playing Dinosaur for the 157th time”.  I hate this game.  Do you want to know why?  Because it entails me crawling around on the hardwood floors and ceramic kitchen tiles on my knees—- and quickly!  I’m a carnivore who is chasing after two herbivores on my knees all the while growling and snarling, which sometimes irritates my throat and makes me start to cough.  I’ve played this game so many times in the last two years  it’s hard to foster the same level of excitement and energy when your knees are killing you and your throat hurts from growling like an idiot and the entire game is a vicious cycle of crawl around and growl/ catch one of them/ pretend to eat them/ let them go/crawl around and growl/ catch one of them/ pretend to eat them/ let them go and do it all over again….and again…..and again…..and again.  I’m not sure what to do about this one.  Maybe they’d let me be a T-Rex and that way I could walk around on my legs or something.  I don’t know.

What would your Responsibility Chart Look like?

 

How I know I’m officially getting older

Probably like most women my age (35ish), we all still feel pretty young and youthful, much like we did in our twenties.  I’m still quite active, I exercise (when I can) and I have two young boys to keep me moving.  And for some reason, I never feel my age.  Even though I’m 35ish, I often still feel like I’m in my late twenties.  I don’t know why, but up until recently, I didn’t give it much thought.  Then, two things happened to me recently that made me realize I’m so not in my twenties anymore:

1.  At a friends’ wedding.  It started at 4:00.  Husband and I sat with another couple and talked about our kids and our jobs.  By 7:00 I caught myself yawning.  I stifled them out of embarrassment while I continued nursing my second glass of wine I had started an hour ago.  By 8:00 I began searching for Husband to see if we could begin negotiations around what would be an appropriate time to leave.  But, since this was his group of friends, he was less inclined.  So, I stood off to the side and my eyes fell upon the dance floor where twenty or more young girls in mini-skirts and young guys ogling at them were all dancing and hootin’ and hollerin’ with their drinks held high above their heads.  I stood there shifting from one foot to another form fatigue as I openly yawned and thought how badly I wanted to shower/put on my sweat pants and sweatshirt, huddle under my fleece blanket on the couch and watch Up All Night.   I’m officially NOT one of those people on the dance floor anymore.

2.  If I can’t run outside, I will often hit my local gym in order to get some kind of exercise in.  Usually this entails running on the treadmill, which sucks, but if Rachel Ray is on or something, it’s tolerable.  So on this particular day, I figured I would try to see my hear rate to see if I was just burning calories, or burning fat or into the Cardio range.  As I began putting in my weight and age, I had to look over at the chart to see what age-range I was in.  And low and behold…….I found that I am in an entirely different age bracket then I have been for the past several years.  Before I started on the treadmill I felt like a late-twenty-something young mom keeping fit……and afterwards, I felt like a mid-thirty-something mom trying to keep her youth while she could.  I am officially NOT in the 25-30 age bracket anymore:(

Not that this is depressing me.  I certainly feel more comfortable in my own skin in my mid-thirties than I did in my twenties…..but nonetheless, it’s an adjustment.

How are you feeling about getting older?  Do you feel your age?

 

Why I’m glad I’m a working-outside-the-home mom

For all you full-time SAHM’s out there:  I commend you.  You are devoting yourself 24/7 to your children and I don’t know how you do it.

For all you mothers out there who are struggling with going back to work, feeling guilty, wondering what the best thing to do for your kids is–here is my take.

I knew before I even had children, that I could not, would not and did not want to stay at home full-time.   Which begs the question:  “well, then, why did you have children?”.  To which I ask, “why did I get married?  So I could spend 24/7 with my spouse???   Yeah, right.

While I reiterate my respect for all of the full-time SAHM’s, for me personally, I’m so glad that I have chosen to work part-time and here is why:

I don’t think I was built to remain in the presence of anyone all day everyday.  Not my parents, siblings, friends, husband……nor my children.

I. Need. Space.

Space to breathe, space to think, space to just do my own thing.  Space to let myself grow and expand in all sorts of ways  What’s frustrating, is that there still seems to be this stigma about being a mother, but not wanting to stay at home full-time until your kids are grown.  Does this mean I love my kids less?  Does this mean I’m less devoted to them?  Does this mean I wouldn’t lay down my life for them?    No.    No.    No.

What it means is that in addition to being a mother and a wife, I am a thirty-something woman who has passions, interests, talents, desires, goals and outlets.  I am not any of these things solely or individually, but I am all of them all at once.  I work and follow my passions in order to fulfill myself and care for myself separately from my kids.  I would not survive if I did not do these things.  And I don’t know if my kids would either.

In addition, I want my sons to see that their mother, a woman, has endless talents, abilities, interests and passions.  It is important to me that they see ALL of what I have to offer this world and how much it fulfills me.  Especially as they grown to become men–I want them to have an experience of women as equally valuable in all sorts of ways.

These are the bigger reasons, but there are also day-to-day reasons I love to work.  When I’ve been home with my boys for a few days in a row, by the third or fourth day, we are so sick of each other.  There is more whining on their part, less patience on mine, boredom,  and annoyances.  However, after a day at which I’ve been at work, when I get home that evening, we can’t run fast enough to one another.  They knock me down with their excitement at seeing me and I’m so rejuvenated after a day of ”adult interactions” that I can’t kiss them or cuddle them enough and usually end up reading them 4 bed time stories instead of the usual 2.  How much we’ve all missed each other and our renewed appreciation of each other feels so wonderful.

I struggled with Mommy-guilt when I went back to work after a mere 3 months, but looking back, I’m so glad I did it.  I am hoping that over time, our culture will be less judgemental about moms who want to work–and for moms struggling with this issue, try to be less judgmental of yourself.

What are your thoughts on your own decisions to either work or stay at home full-time?