You know what's great?
My husband, that's what.
I told you before that a few years ago we had some trouble and had a rough time for a bit right? Well we seem to have worked through most of those issues and picked up a few more along the way. I'm starting to understand that's just how marriage is. Maybe when we're like 60 we'll have fought about everything we could possibly fight about and then we'll just be a grumpy old couple that gives their kids money and wears bermuda shorts to Hawaii.
Sounds kinda great right?
Anyway, I've really noticed lately that my hubs has taken a lot of things to heart that I tell him about myself. Like for example, when I'm pregnant and sensitive and get jealous of the hot young chicks he works with, he needs to just say some nice things to me to make me feel good and I will get over it. In the past he would just get pissed off and give me a harsh lecture about how he's never given me any reason to be suspicious. (I think he doesn't realize that 21 year old Big Boobs McGee possibly doesn't give a shit that he's married and also blatantly flirts with him in front of me. And get this, on the Christmas card writes "You're the best boss ever! I love you!") Insert retching and vomiting and possible fist swinging here.
My point, oh yeah, I was getting to a point. So I got kinda jealous and silly over some stupid stuff like that. In my mind I know it's just me being sensitive because I know he wouldn't ever go there, but I still got all puffed up with sad and jealous air. He sat me down on his lap and just hugged me and told me that he thinks of me as family that never ends, like his parents or his kids. And then there was a whole speech about how happy he is now and that me, my son, and our unborn baby are his whole world and how he wouldn't do anything to jeopardize it.
Sigh.
He frustrates the hell out of me a lot, but I've got a good one ladies.
Showing posts with label Hubs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Hubs. Show all posts
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Sometimes You Just Need to be Right
And sometimes you just need somebody to tell you that you ARE right. Or maybe I just need that. I don't know.
Hubs and I have been together for nearly 11 years. The first few years we were pretty good about squelching fights and being nice to each other.
Then we had a rough patch.
I mean a really, really rough patch. Like kick you in the balls and spit on your head type of thing. I won't be specific but it's kind of a wonder that we're still together. (Oh yeah and I don't really have balls.)
After the rough patch, we recommitted ourselves to our marriage and our child and promised that we would never put each other through something like that again.
And now we are super committed to each other but we fight. A lot. Like a lot, a lot.
I think it's mostly because we are both really stubborn and feel like we need to stand our grand with one another. I do that because I felt like he bossed me around in the beginning and I, trying to be the peacemaker, just accepted that but then resented him for it. Of course I can't speak for him but I think he does it because he's just naturally very aggressive and a leader and ok, a little old fashioned.
But I digress. Last night we had a whopper of a fight. It was over something really stupid and at some points in the argument, I thought maybe, possibly I might just be a little hormonal and oversensitive, but damn it, that's what I was feeling and I wasn't going to just blame it on myself.
I slept on the couch.
This morning, Hubs asked me if I could meet him for coffee before work (after not speaking all morning.) I did and after nearly finishing my coffee, he finally spoke:
"I was wrong."
That's what he said. "I was wrong."
I think my heart stopped beating for a second and I may have simultaneously peed my pants and threw up in my mouth a little. Then of course I cried and instantly forgave him. (You can assume from this response that he doesn't admit to being at fault very often.)
Sometimes you just need someone to acknowledge your feelings and swallow their pride. It made me love him just a little bit more.
Hubs and I have been together for nearly 11 years. The first few years we were pretty good about squelching fights and being nice to each other.
Then we had a rough patch.
I mean a really, really rough patch. Like kick you in the balls and spit on your head type of thing. I won't be specific but it's kind of a wonder that we're still together. (Oh yeah and I don't really have balls.)
After the rough patch, we recommitted ourselves to our marriage and our child and promised that we would never put each other through something like that again.
And now we are super committed to each other but we fight. A lot. Like a lot, a lot.
I think it's mostly because we are both really stubborn and feel like we need to stand our grand with one another. I do that because I felt like he bossed me around in the beginning and I, trying to be the peacemaker, just accepted that but then resented him for it. Of course I can't speak for him but I think he does it because he's just naturally very aggressive and a leader and ok, a little old fashioned.
But I digress. Last night we had a whopper of a fight. It was over something really stupid and at some points in the argument, I thought maybe, possibly I might just be a little hormonal and oversensitive, but damn it, that's what I was feeling and I wasn't going to just blame it on myself.
I slept on the couch.
This morning, Hubs asked me if I could meet him for coffee before work (after not speaking all morning.) I did and after nearly finishing my coffee, he finally spoke:
"I was wrong."
That's what he said. "I was wrong."
I think my heart stopped beating for a second and I may have simultaneously peed my pants and threw up in my mouth a little. Then of course I cried and instantly forgave him. (You can assume from this response that he doesn't admit to being at fault very often.)
Sometimes you just need someone to acknowledge your feelings and swallow their pride. It made me love him just a little bit more.
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Alone Again
My husband is a business owner, an entrepreneur, a wannabe rancher and an overachiever.
He's busy. All. The. Time.
Take for instance, this week. Monday he worked until 9. Tuesday til midnight. Yesterday was his birthday and he wasn't sure what time he'd be done working so I didn't make plans. I didn't have to because it turns out his work friends planned a surprise party for him.
And didn't invite me.
(To be fair, my husband did call and invite me once he knew what was happening, but what the fuck right???) Tonight it's almost 11 and he's still not home.
It's a hard line to walk when I know that he is working hard and it benefits my family and myself too, but I am lonely and missing him and having a hard time being a mom on my own.
I've tried all the talks, and the date nights and family night. He just gets busy and sometimes can't stick to it.
Anyone else have workaholic husbands? How do you reconcile the part of your brain that's grateful for the hard workin' man with the part of your heart that really needs your husband more?
He's busy. All. The. Time.
Take for instance, this week. Monday he worked until 9. Tuesday til midnight. Yesterday was his birthday and he wasn't sure what time he'd be done working so I didn't make plans. I didn't have to because it turns out his work friends planned a surprise party for him.
And didn't invite me.
(To be fair, my husband did call and invite me once he knew what was happening, but what the fuck right???) Tonight it's almost 11 and he's still not home.
It's a hard line to walk when I know that he is working hard and it benefits my family and myself too, but I am lonely and missing him and having a hard time being a mom on my own.
I've tried all the talks, and the date nights and family night. He just gets busy and sometimes can't stick to it.
Anyone else have workaholic husbands? How do you reconcile the part of your brain that's grateful for the hard workin' man with the part of your heart that really needs your husband more?
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Torture
I can't make a decision, like ever.
The other night my husband actually told me that he feels sorry for me when I have to make a decision because I just agonize over it forEVER.
And I really do. I'll feel like I've made up my mind, think some more, and then change it again.
So remember how I picked up a 2nd job? And then remember how I found out I'm pregnant? Well now some more analysis has occurred and I'm worried about the stress I am putting on my body by waking up at 3 a.m. and working for 12-14 hours straight.
Insert sleepless night, stomachache from worrying, and worrying because I am worrying too much.
Finally I asked Hubs to just decide for me. He is sometimes quite the genius and said, "What do you want? Like long-term?"
I want to be a good mom to my son, pick him up and drop him off at school, and when I get my baby, I want to breast feed and cuddle and take naps with her all day.
Nowhere in this sentence did I mention ANYTHING about either one of my jobs.
So I tearfully called my boss tonight to tell her that I need to quit the program and I hope they won't hold me to the year contract I signed since I'm still in the training phase. Also cried a little about how I hope the company will welcome me back when I am in a better position to be employed by them. (I had told her earlier about my situation and she told me to think it over and call her later.)
Ok I left her a voicemail. I'm a wuss.
I hope I can just move on and not over-analyze the decision.
It's best for my family. It's best for my family. It's best for my family.
The other night my husband actually told me that he feels sorry for me when I have to make a decision because I just agonize over it forEVER.
And I really do. I'll feel like I've made up my mind, think some more, and then change it again.
So remember how I picked up a 2nd job? And then remember how I found out I'm pregnant? Well now some more analysis has occurred and I'm worried about the stress I am putting on my body by waking up at 3 a.m. and working for 12-14 hours straight.
Insert sleepless night, stomachache from worrying, and worrying because I am worrying too much.
Finally I asked Hubs to just decide for me. He is sometimes quite the genius and said, "What do you want? Like long-term?"
I want to be a good mom to my son, pick him up and drop him off at school, and when I get my baby, I want to breast feed and cuddle and take naps with her all day.
Nowhere in this sentence did I mention ANYTHING about either one of my jobs.
So I tearfully called my boss tonight to tell her that I need to quit the program and I hope they won't hold me to the year contract I signed since I'm still in the training phase. Also cried a little about how I hope the company will welcome me back when I am in a better position to be employed by them. (I had told her earlier about my situation and she told me to think it over and call her later.)
Ok I left her a voicemail. I'm a wuss.
I hope I can just move on and not over-analyze the decision.
It's best for my family. It's best for my family. It's best for my family.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
How Your Vagina Sometimes Fails You
Here's what I don't understand.
Why is it that just because I have a vagina, I am responsible for keeping my family's underwear clean?
We have this fancy shmancy clothes hamper that has 2 separate compartments, one for lights and one for darks. It's supposed to make the whole laundry thing easy peasy one two threesy. Well take a look:
Yes, my husband's dirty clothes are on the floor right next to the hamper. This is a very small pile of dirty clothes. It gets much, much bigger. I gave up on asking him to put the clothes in the hamper a long time ago. I'm not quite sure why it's such a difficult concept, but apparently it's similar to trying to get me to give a blow job.*
And yeah I know that I could just stop doing his laundry, but believe me I've tried this little reverse psychology gem before and you know what it got me? A big old charge to my debit card when my husband went out to buy all new socks and underwear when his were all dirty. Not to mention the guilty conscience of smugly separating my laundry from his. Although with that method, his clothes actually ended up in the hamper instead of next to it.
And then there's my son. He's six and although he's been potty trained for a few years now, he still doesn't quite see the importance of wiping his ass thoroughly (or at all.) I started making him take a bath every time he took a dump and didn't wipe, but that didn't work and it just created a bigger mess for me to clean up. So then I bought those grown-up baby wipes that you can leave in the bathroom for him to try so wiping would be more convenient for him. That seems to work about half the time but I still have the lovely chore of washing his underoos in hot water with bleach every time.
Well, PMS is going great for me this month. As you can plainly see.
* Maybe I should try a surprise BJ to get new carpet?
Why is it that just because I have a vagina, I am responsible for keeping my family's underwear clean?
We have this fancy shmancy clothes hamper that has 2 separate compartments, one for lights and one for darks. It's supposed to make the whole laundry thing easy peasy one two threesy. Well take a look:
Yes, my husband's dirty clothes are on the floor right next to the hamper. This is a very small pile of dirty clothes. It gets much, much bigger. I gave up on asking him to put the clothes in the hamper a long time ago. I'm not quite sure why it's such a difficult concept, but apparently it's similar to trying to get me to give a blow job.*
And yeah I know that I could just stop doing his laundry, but believe me I've tried this little reverse psychology gem before and you know what it got me? A big old charge to my debit card when my husband went out to buy all new socks and underwear when his were all dirty. Not to mention the guilty conscience of smugly separating my laundry from his. Although with that method, his clothes actually ended up in the hamper instead of next to it.
And then there's my son. He's six and although he's been potty trained for a few years now, he still doesn't quite see the importance of wiping his ass thoroughly (or at all.) I started making him take a bath every time he took a dump and didn't wipe, but that didn't work and it just created a bigger mess for me to clean up. So then I bought those grown-up baby wipes that you can leave in the bathroom for him to try so wiping would be more convenient for him. That seems to work about half the time but I still have the lovely chore of washing his underoos in hot water with bleach every time.
Well, PMS is going great for me this month. As you can plainly see.
* Maybe I should try a surprise BJ to get new carpet?
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Sweaty Big Stuff
So you know how there's that phrase, "don't sweat the small stuff?" (that's what she said.)
Well I fucking hate that phrase.
What does it even mean? Because there's some small stuff that feels like pretty big stuff when it actually happens to you.
I will generously provide you with some examples:
- When you just went to the bathroom (#2) and you look over to notice that there is no toilet paper on the roll. No toilet paper? Small stuff. Running to the hallway (or worse, the next stall) to get more toilet paper with your pants around your ankles? Sweaty big stuff.
- Smudging your pedicure right after you get it. Smudged toenail? Small stuff. Your nerves after you just spent an hour saying "what?" and trying to make out what the nail technician just said to you, besides calling you honey. Not to mention the 40 dollars you just spent to have a flower painted on as well, and the fact that you have no strawberry red in your polish collection to fix it? Sweaty big stuff.
But seriously, in life, there's a point when the small stuff you just spent a good amount of time NOT sweating becomes the big stuff. Like the big, mean, resentful big stuff.
It all started when I read this post. So I guess you could say I blame Aunt Becky for making me sweat (but in a good way.)
You see, Hubs is quite the workaholic. He typically logs about 70-80 hours per week, and although that affords me to only work part-time, which is great, it does leave me a little bit lonely (and angry) sometimes. But I've pretty much told myself to just be grateful for his hard work and to enjoy working only 21 hours a week.
If there's something I really want to do, like a pilates class or getting a drink with my girls, Hubs tries hard to accommodate, but it involves a lot of coordinating andnagging reminding on my part to get him somewhere.
We do, however, spend one ENTIRE weekend a month at his parent's house. You see, they have a ranch and Hubs enjoys the cowboy life. We spent the past 4 days there and he was in the fields from sun-up to sun-down every day.
On our way home, I was thinking about what I am passionate about and why in the world we never spend an entire weekend doing it. And it made me realize that the small stuff is turning into a large mountain and I am starting to sweat it. So I talked to the Hubs about it.
He was surprisingly receptive to the conversation and asked me what it is I'd like to spend a weekend doing.
Naturally, the answer was taking a god damn vacation.
I love traveling and we have done very little of it since we've been married. So we planned a trip! Well, not a real trip because now we have to come up with some money to actually take a trip, but there are 3 Caribbean islands I've always wanted to go to and I found a cruise that goes to ALL 3 plus Belize and Cozumel.
Doesn't that sound amazing?
Eat and drink all night and then wake up to spend the day on a new tropical beach.
Now... now I have to sweat the how to get the money portion of the vacation, but that is something I'm willing to put some sweat into.
Well I fucking hate that phrase.
What does it even mean? Because there's some small stuff that feels like pretty big stuff when it actually happens to you.
I will generously provide you with some examples:
- When you just went to the bathroom (#2) and you look over to notice that there is no toilet paper on the roll. No toilet paper? Small stuff. Running to the hallway (or worse, the next stall) to get more toilet paper with your pants around your ankles? Sweaty big stuff.
- Smudging your pedicure right after you get it. Smudged toenail? Small stuff. Your nerves after you just spent an hour saying "what?" and trying to make out what the nail technician just said to you, besides calling you honey. Not to mention the 40 dollars you just spent to have a flower painted on as well, and the fact that you have no strawberry red in your polish collection to fix it? Sweaty big stuff.
But seriously, in life, there's a point when the small stuff you just spent a good amount of time NOT sweating becomes the big stuff. Like the big, mean, resentful big stuff.
It all started when I read this post. So I guess you could say I blame Aunt Becky for making me sweat (but in a good way.)
You see, Hubs is quite the workaholic. He typically logs about 70-80 hours per week, and although that affords me to only work part-time, which is great, it does leave me a little bit lonely (and angry) sometimes. But I've pretty much told myself to just be grateful for his hard work and to enjoy working only 21 hours a week.
If there's something I really want to do, like a pilates class or getting a drink with my girls, Hubs tries hard to accommodate, but it involves a lot of coordinating and
We do, however, spend one ENTIRE weekend a month at his parent's house. You see, they have a ranch and Hubs enjoys the cowboy life. We spent the past 4 days there and he was in the fields from sun-up to sun-down every day.
On our way home, I was thinking about what I am passionate about and why in the world we never spend an entire weekend doing it. And it made me realize that the small stuff is turning into a large mountain and I am starting to sweat it. So I talked to the Hubs about it.
He was surprisingly receptive to the conversation and asked me what it is I'd like to spend a weekend doing.
Naturally, the answer was taking a god damn vacation.
I love traveling and we have done very little of it since we've been married. So we planned a trip! Well, not a real trip because now we have to come up with some money to actually take a trip, but there are 3 Caribbean islands I've always wanted to go to and I found a cruise that goes to ALL 3 plus Belize and Cozumel.
Doesn't that sound amazing?
Eat and drink all night and then wake up to spend the day on a new tropical beach.
Now... now I have to sweat the how to get the money portion of the vacation, but that is something I'm willing to put some sweat into.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
I Win Again
Sometimes when I'm angry and I know it's irrational, I'll make this weird, high pitched voice and yell out "I'M ANGRY!" It always makes me laugh at myself so then I get over my unwarranted anger.
Ok sometimes it makes me get over it but usually I still want to stab somebody in the eye.
So one day the Hubs and I were having a fight. This one was totally legit though. I think. Well, I can't really remember but I'm pretty sure I was right and he was wrong. But anyway it was like 2 in the morning or something ridiculous like that. Hubs was tired and sick of fighting but I was on a roll about how awesome I am. I think I was still talking when I noticed Hubs was snoring.
This was not the first time this has happened either. I know right? How did I keep from punching him in the face? I think I went to sleep too.
I told my friend about it the next day and she told me that happened to her once so she took a sharpie and wrote "ASSHOLE" across her husband's back. She felt instantly better.
Great idea I thought! So the next time we were fighting and Hubs fell asleep, I decided to try the new trick only I wrote on Hubs's forehead. I didn't write "ASSHOLE" (because my friend is now divorced.) I wrote "I'M SLEEPY."
I did feel a lot better until Hubs woke up during the Y in SLEEPY. He was mad all over again and we started fighting.
I just went to sleep.
Ok sometimes it makes me get over it but usually I still want to stab somebody in the eye.
So one day the Hubs and I were having a fight. This one was totally legit though. I think. Well, I can't really remember but I'm pretty sure I was right and he was wrong. But anyway it was like 2 in the morning or something ridiculous like that. Hubs was tired and sick of fighting but I was on a roll about how awesome I am. I think I was still talking when I noticed Hubs was snoring.
This was not the first time this has happened either. I know right? How did I keep from punching him in the face? I think I went to sleep too.
I told my friend about it the next day and she told me that happened to her once so she took a sharpie and wrote "ASSHOLE" across her husband's back. She felt instantly better.
Great idea I thought! So the next time we were fighting and Hubs fell asleep, I decided to try the new trick only I wrote on Hubs's forehead. I didn't write "ASSHOLE" (because my friend is now divorced.) I wrote "I'M SLEEPY."
I did feel a lot better until Hubs woke up during the Y in SLEEPY. He was mad all over again and we started fighting.
I just went to sleep.
Monday, June 28, 2010
Boner of a Lonely Heart
Don't you think that song sounds like that? (Owner of a lonely heart = boner of a lonely heart to me.)
Anyway, just needed a clever way to put the word "boner" in my title because this post is obviously going to be about sex. Lots and lots of sex.
I read some posts about husbands who have a hard time (pun intended) getting things going in the bedroom on demand. I guess the pressure of baby making doesn't put them in the mood or something.
Well not my husband.
We would do it twice a day if I wanted to (which I don't.) He seriously has the sex drive of an 18 year old. I, however, have the sex drive of a woman who's been seriously trying to make a baby for 3 years.
It makes for some interesting nights and some really fun acting on my part. :)
Anyway, just needed a clever way to put the word "boner" in my title because this post is obviously going to be about sex. Lots and lots of sex.
I read some posts about husbands who have a hard time (pun intended) getting things going in the bedroom on demand. I guess the pressure of baby making doesn't put them in the mood or something.
Well not my husband.
We would do it twice a day if I wanted to (which I don't.) He seriously has the sex drive of an 18 year old. I, however, have the sex drive of a woman who's been seriously trying to make a baby for 3 years.
It makes for some interesting nights and some really fun acting on my part. :)
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Aww Love
So my friend's wedding was last night and it was glorious. I just love weddings. Especially when I know the people getting married are truly meant to be, and my friend and her husband really are. I cried a good deal and drank too much but it was still fun.
Until the middle of the night when I started puking my guts out. At first I just thought it was the vodka, but after the 5th trip to the toilet to throw up, I started getting really bad stomach cramps so now I'm thinking it was something I ate rather than drank.
Oh yeah and I'm ovulating.
So here we are in this beautiful hotel, I've brought along a sexy nightie and some sperm-friendly lube and I'm getting out of bed every couple hours to vomit. Super hot right? So after puke #4, I brushed my teeth and threw some gum in my mouth and tried to get Hubs in the mood. I thought it would be difficult because he had just heard me yak for 8 hours straight, but he was a trooper.
Oh yeah and it was a full moon.
So if I get pregnant, my conception memory will be my friend's wedding, a full moon and way more vomit than I originally counted on.
For now, I'm stuck on the couch for the day and still feeling yucky. Thank goodness I have all of these delicious blogs to read!
Until the middle of the night when I started puking my guts out. At first I just thought it was the vodka, but after the 5th trip to the toilet to throw up, I started getting really bad stomach cramps so now I'm thinking it was something I ate rather than drank.
Oh yeah and I'm ovulating.
So here we are in this beautiful hotel, I've brought along a sexy nightie and some sperm-friendly lube and I'm getting out of bed every couple hours to vomit. Super hot right? So after puke #4, I brushed my teeth and threw some gum in my mouth and tried to get Hubs in the mood. I thought it would be difficult because he had just heard me yak for 8 hours straight, but he was a trooper.
Oh yeah and it was a full moon.
So if I get pregnant, my conception memory will be my friend's wedding, a full moon and way more vomit than I originally counted on.
For now, I'm stuck on the couch for the day and still feeling yucky. Thank goodness I have all of these delicious blogs to read!
Thursday, June 17, 2010
I'm a City Girl
My husband grew up on a horse and cattle ranch. There are lots and lots of acres, lots and lots of animals, and lots and lots of SHIT.
When I first met Hubs it was super exciting. I had ridden horses a few times as a little girl, but had never even dreamed I would actually own my own horse. While we were dating, Hubs gave me my very own horse for my birthday. Who gets a horse for their birthday I mean honestly??? And from the guy they are dating??
Fast forward a few years when Hubs decides he's had enough of city life and we NEED a house with horse property. He is passionate about horses and really wants his kids to be around them and learn the responsibility of "farm life." Let me first say that I respect that and totally understand where he's coming from. I want my kids to be passionate about some of the things I am, so I can't blame him for wanting the same. AND my son gets all excited to go help dad with the horses. It's really cute.
But my gawd, there is a lot of SHIT in my backyard. And it never fails that horses get out when Hubs is out of town and then I'm back there in my city girl flip-flops fixing fence, plugging my nose, and swearing at how Hubs doesn't clean up shit and placenta (yes placenta! a horse just had a baby.) SICK! I called him and was disgusted and pissed off and wish we could just send the horses to live with the grandparents at the ranch.
My point - have you ever noticed that there are a lot of parents like that?
All they ever do is complain about their children and how their lives are basically ruined because of them. Some people are like that about their marriages too. It's exasperating! Why did they have kids if all they ever want to do is send them to the grandparents house?
Of course I have more than my fair share of complaints, but one thing I never, EVER want to do is make my child feel like he wasn't wanted or that he's somehow made my life WORSE! It makes me tear up just thinking about him feeling like that. So in continuous effort, I try very hard not to complain about my marriage or my children because they are, after all, the greatest most important part of my life.
When I first met Hubs it was super exciting. I had ridden horses a few times as a little girl, but had never even dreamed I would actually own my own horse. While we were dating, Hubs gave me my very own horse for my birthday. Who gets a horse for their birthday I mean honestly??? And from the guy they are dating??
Fast forward a few years when Hubs decides he's had enough of city life and we NEED a house with horse property. He is passionate about horses and really wants his kids to be around them and learn the responsibility of "farm life." Let me first say that I respect that and totally understand where he's coming from. I want my kids to be passionate about some of the things I am, so I can't blame him for wanting the same. AND my son gets all excited to go help dad with the horses. It's really cute.
But my gawd, there is a lot of SHIT in my backyard. And it never fails that horses get out when Hubs is out of town and then I'm back there in my city girl flip-flops fixing fence, plugging my nose, and swearing at how Hubs doesn't clean up shit and placenta (yes placenta! a horse just had a baby.) SICK! I called him and was disgusted and pissed off and wish we could just send the horses to live with the grandparents at the ranch.
My point - have you ever noticed that there are a lot of parents like that?
All they ever do is complain about their children and how their lives are basically ruined because of them. Some people are like that about their marriages too. It's exasperating! Why did they have kids if all they ever want to do is send them to the grandparents house?
Of course I have more than my fair share of complaints, but one thing I never, EVER want to do is make my child feel like he wasn't wanted or that he's somehow made my life WORSE! It makes me tear up just thinking about him feeling like that. So in continuous effort, I try very hard not to complain about my marriage or my children because they are, after all, the greatest most important part of my life.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Why I Love Date Night (It's the Dessert)
Last night, Hubs unexpectedly asked me on a date. I say unexpectedly because he works 70-80 hour weeks so just playing footsie together is usually impossible, let alone an entire evening with a DATE. Of course I said yes, promptly called the babysitter (my mom) and drove my son over to her at sound barrier breaking speed.
We went to dinner and it was lovely. We shared a pitcher of beer and talked about whatever and ate yummy food. Hubs wasn't that hungry so we just got one entree and shared it. So after eating only half a meal, it left ample room for dessert. That's right, dessert.
There's a bakery in my city that's kindof a big deal but I have never been to it. So we went. I walked in and knew I was in trouble. I am really not kidding when I say I was looking through the glass for 10 (ten!) minutes trying to decide what I would get. Finally I decided that it was pretty much impossible to only order one thing.
So I picked three things: a lemon bar, a napolean, and a kiwi-strawberry tarte.
Hubs couldn't resist and was probably hungry again by the time I made my decision, so he also ordered the bread pudding. I got the treats to go so it looked like I wasn't going to eat them in one sitting. The good news is that I didn't like the lemon bar so I didn't eat it. The other treats, however, were devoured quickly. (To be fair to my fat cells, I should tell you that my mom and son had some bites too.)
Maybe I should rethink my theory about how the fertility drugs are making me fat?
We went to dinner and it was lovely. We shared a pitcher of beer and talked about whatever and ate yummy food. Hubs wasn't that hungry so we just got one entree and shared it. So after eating only half a meal, it left ample room for dessert. That's right, dessert.
There's a bakery in my city that's kindof a big deal but I have never been to it. So we went. I walked in and knew I was in trouble. I am really not kidding when I say I was looking through the glass for 10 (ten!) minutes trying to decide what I would get. Finally I decided that it was pretty much impossible to only order one thing.
So I picked three things: a lemon bar, a napolean, and a kiwi-strawberry tarte.
Hubs couldn't resist and was probably hungry again by the time I made my decision, so he also ordered the bread pudding. I got the treats to go so it looked like I wasn't going to eat them in one sitting. The good news is that I didn't like the lemon bar so I didn't eat it. The other treats, however, were devoured quickly. (To be fair to my fat cells, I should tell you that my mom and son had some bites too.)
Maybe I should rethink my theory about how the fertility drugs are making me fat?
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Your Boobs What?
Today I shimmied around like a show girl trying to decide if my boobs felt sore or not. Hubs asked me if I thought I could swing a tassel in a circle. I don't think he realized what I was doing, he was just thrilled that I was shaking my money makers in front of him (side note - my boobs have never made me any money. Just wanted to be clear about that.)
Wouldn't it be great to not know exactly what day in your cycle you are? I am keenly aware of how many DPO's I am every day. Each day I am checking for any symptoms (real or imaginary.) So far I have none, but that is beside the point. My actual real point is that I have been trying really, really hard not to think about it every day. I'm getting better at it too. I only thought about it 8 or 9 dozen times today. :)
Wouldn't it be great to not know exactly what day in your cycle you are? I am keenly aware of how many DPO's I am every day. Each day I am checking for any symptoms (real or imaginary.) So far I have none, but that is beside the point. My actual real point is that I have been trying really, really hard not to think about it every day. I'm getting better at it too. I only thought about it 8 or 9 dozen times today. :)
Monday, June 7, 2010
Fail
So last week, my vagina was taking a nap. Hubs was over it. He was ready to resume good sex life part of the month. And this is the story of how he did NOT get laid.
Hubs, "Do you want to go to bed so we can do it?"
Me, "Babe, you can't just tell me you want to do it and expect me to be instantly turned on. You have to work a little."
Hubs (while rolling his eyes,) "I work ALL DAY."
So then we did not do it.
Hubs, "Do you want to go to bed so we can do it?"
Me, "Babe, you can't just tell me you want to do it and expect me to be instantly turned on. You have to work a little."
Hubs (while rolling his eyes,) "I work ALL DAY."
So then we did not do it.
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Country Style
Well, I went in for my 2nd "porn" ever on Friday and everything looked really good. I had 2(!!) very good sized follicles and a 3rd that was medium sized. My doctor thinks that I will release both(!!) the eggs from the large follicles and possibly the 3rd(!!!). There's something very surreal about lying on a table spread eagle while your tiny Asian doctor is poking around your lady parts with a large object. The most unusual part of it all is that you are squinting at the screen trying to figure out how in the hell they spot that follicle so quickly and what makes them so sure they are telling you the truth!
But I digress... the most important part of this story is what comes after... the sex. We are once again back at hump fest. The only problem is that hubs was out of town all last week. We knew that the impending ovulation was going to happen sometime this weekend, so we made plans to meet in the middle.
At his parent's house.
We usually go one weekend a month to visit his parents so it seemed logical that since he was already in that direction that I just meet him there for our visit this month. That being said... we had to do it.
A lot.
At his parent's house.
My in-laws are really awesome people and I love them dearly, but they live in the country. Like they own 80 acres and have horses, chickens and rabbits country. They also eat fried eggs and bacon for breakfast every day. And all the bedrooms are in one section of the house. And the mattress we were on is like 50 years old.
Do you see where I'm going with this?
Hubs and I sure had to be tricky to keep it quiet (not us, the mattress!) Also, we went fishing and fed horses and fixed trucks so it was quite the fiasco to get in 3 days worth of baby making. I really hope I get pregnant this month, however, it will be quite the memory of how the conception occurred if I do.
But I digress... the most important part of this story is what comes after... the sex. We are once again back at hump fest. The only problem is that hubs was out of town all last week. We knew that the impending ovulation was going to happen sometime this weekend, so we made plans to meet in the middle.
At his parent's house.
We usually go one weekend a month to visit his parents so it seemed logical that since he was already in that direction that I just meet him there for our visit this month. That being said... we had to do it.
A lot.
At his parent's house.
My in-laws are really awesome people and I love them dearly, but they live in the country. Like they own 80 acres and have horses, chickens and rabbits country. They also eat fried eggs and bacon for breakfast every day. And all the bedrooms are in one section of the house. And the mattress we were on is like 50 years old.
Do you see where I'm going with this?
Hubs and I sure had to be tricky to keep it quiet (not us, the mattress!) Also, we went fishing and fed horses and fixed trucks so it was quite the fiasco to get in 3 days worth of baby making. I really hope I get pregnant this month, however, it will be quite the memory of how the conception occurred if I do.
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