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Where The Fuck Are My Scissors? Part 1,894

My good pair of scissors have gone missing, nowhere at all to be found. I hid those fuckers pretty good, too.

I bought them over the summer because try as I might, my secret, hidden scissors are always found. When they are found out, whoever is borrowing them gets me talking like a possessed person. GIVE ME BACK MY SCISSORS AFTER YOU’RE DONE, I say low and slow.

YOU WILL NOT LOSE THESE AND WILL PUT THEM BACK ONCE YOU ARE FINISHED WITH THEM, I say more as a threat than a suggestion.

As a mom and parent, I share all my shit all of the time. I shared my body for nine months with one of these people. And yet, they can’t put my damn scissors back where they’re supposed to go.

I need to invent mom scissors. I have no idea what that would entail but I do like the sound of others getting a tiny zap every few seconds when my family doesn’t put them back in an alotted amount of time.

Even our crappy, will not cut anything scissors are gone. That’s probably for the best though.

I saw that my husband had that pair in the bathroom with him when he was trimming his hairy berries for his vasectomy.

So, yeah, on the bright side, I know my good scissors weren’t used in that Edward Scissorhands moment.

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The Big V

I was really wanting to have another baby but my uterus isn’t having it. I had another miscarriage this past July and was ripped apart. Infertility is such a mindfuck. It’s consumed me for years. After this last miscarriage, I told my husband I can’t go through anymore and that we are done in the having babies department.

I finally told my husband he needs to get snipped. It’s really time. With all of the surgeries I’ve had, I couldn’t imagine going in for another fucking surgery to get my tubes tied. My husband went to the doctor not long after I told him I can’t go through another pregnancy loss and before I knew it, the time recently came for the vasectomy.

Woo hoo! I didn’t know I would be so happy. I’ve been dealing with all kinds of birth control methods all these years and it’s going to be so nice to not have to worry from my end anymore. We’re not going to have the freedom until about four months after the surgery since they have to test his sperm at the three-month mark and the four-month mark.

I’ll be honest. This has me overcome with emotion since I know I’m ready to close down the baby factory but this closes a big chapter in my life. I always wanted to have at least two kids but I know I’m very lucky that I have one. My heart goes out to the women who’ve been trying for years to have a baby and haven’t been able to.

It also stings when my daughter tells me she would still really like to have a brother or sister.

But, I know this is for the best, especially because I didn’t have to go through the big V. My husband is always so calm, cool, and collected so I was stressing out about the procedure for him.

Which leads me into the prep for his surgery. Let me just say, this is the first time in a long time that I’ve had to share a bathroom with my husband since we moved into our new house last year. His shaved facial hair trimmings drive me mad because they get all over the sink and he’s apparently blind to it.

While preparing for the big V, I now know there’s something worse than facial hair trimmings.

My husband had to shave his balls the night before and ewwww, the hairy ball hair got all over the sink and he set the shaver right by our toothbrush holder. To top it off, there was a pile of pubes teetering in our bathroom trash, just waiting to fall over all over the floor.

I gagged my way through cleaning some of it up and wanted to be like “Dude, can’t you just flush your pubes down the toilet?” But, I wanted to cut him some slack since even though he was acting as cool as a cumber, he had to have had some nerves, although he really doesn’t express his emotions very often.

He eventually cleaned up from the Pube Storm of 2017 but ick, ick, ick.

My husband had the procedure in the afternoon and was given a Valium which was fun to see because I don’t think he’s ever had one before.

When we got home, he was still good and drugged and laid in bed while he put his balls on ice and watched James Bond movies. He had to rest for two days which I know was hell for him because the man never stops moving. If he’s not out mowing the grass, he’s cutting something up with his chainsaw or kayaking or riding his bike.

It’s a pretty strange feeling knowing we won’t be having any more kids. I didn’t realize I would still be longing so much for another child.

It makes me wonder if that feeling ever goes away despite how old I get.

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Marriage Is Exhausting

Back in October, my mom came for a visit after six years of us not seeing each other. It was so amazing having her here and the only time I feel like my true self is when I’m around my mom, sister, and writing, so it was an exciting visit for me.

We talk about everything and nothing is really off limits. Months before my mom came to visit, I had been feeling off about my marriage. We’re not talking splitsville but my husband was just annoying the shit out of me. The biggest issue is that he is so overconsumed by our daughter and at times, overbearing… just like his parents are. I end up feeling like the third wheel. Obviously kids are the main issue but I firmly believe that the relationship should come first.

It gives your children a foundation to what a healthy relationship is and they learn the world doesn’t revolve around them all of the time.

After some talks with my mom, I could no longer ignore the disconnect I felt in my marriage. After the hummingbird goes to bed, the hubby and I go off and do our own things. While we’re in the same house, we’ve been slowly losing the closeness we once had.

My mom was the mirror I needed to see that I had to make a change and put my marriage on high priority. But, I had gotten to a point where I was stuck in a rut and exhausted by my marriage. It can be a lot of work. I had unintentionally left it on the wayside.

So, after my mom left, I immediately dove in and made the effort to be more one on one with him. Obviously, it can be hard when you have a 7 year-old that interrupts by saying “mom! mom? mom? MOOOM?!” over and over again while talking to your significant other and you have to say JUST A MINUTE! through gritted teeth.

Slowly, we’ve been working on connecting with each other more. We still on occasion get stuck in our old habits but I found out something and I don’t know why I hadn’t known this about my husband all this time.

I’ve heard the saying that they way to a man’s heart is through his stomach and while I believe that’s true, I found a quicker response is by letting my hands do the work. And by that I mean, touching his dick. How did I not know this all there years?!

He’s always been more affectionate and I’ve been the type that wants my space so he’s probably been deprived. So, I just touch it.

Want those shelves he’s been promising to make for the past two years?

Touch his dick.

Need to get something painted?

Touch it!

Have to get something fixed?

Touch it!

I was excited to tell my therapist about this discovery. After bitching to her for months about how I feel my marriage is getting off track, I went to a recent session and said I can’t believe all I have to do to get my husband to respond more to me in all ways is by nuzzling up to him and touching his dick!

After 21 years of marriage, it’s nice to feel like we’re getting back on track with our relationship.

And, it’s all thanks to dick.

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My Ongoing In Law Cycle Of Thoughts

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My in-laws will be visiting in a little over two weeks and I’ve been trying to mentally prepare for them, especially now with our new house, they’ll be staying with us for four fucking days since there’s plenty of space and we can’t use that as an excuse.

I suggested to my husband that they should stay in a hotel anyway for a much-needed break in between the days but he thinks that’s impolite. Well, fuck. I personally don’t think so and would make it more about them needing their privacy but I didn’t win that one.

With the weeks and months that follow after one of their visits, I start softening up to them and after four or so months, I’ll convince myself that they really aren’t that bad. Then, I start feeling like shit about how much I rant about them and think this time when the in-laws come to stay with us, we’ll actually have a pleasant time. Hey, I never said I wasn’t delusional.

I’ll become so worked up with guilt and feel like a horrible person for the things I say about them. I start convincing myself that I just need to suck it up and stop overreacting. The hummingbird adores them and I keep my feelings to myself and it makes me happy that she’s so happy when they visit.

But then, they arrive. When we greet them, I’m kind of like a deer in headlights with thoughts of all the past bullshit I’ve dealt with when it comes to them and also the simple fact that oh shit, they’re actually here and this visit is really happening.

Within ten minutes, my father in law is talking about every single little detail that happened on their trip here and none of it relates to them. He’ll be saying what he overheard someone else on the plane talk about, go into a thorough overview of a person on his flight that he was nearby and without any knowledge of the person, form all of his own ideas and opinions about who this person might be, what kind of job they have, why they were traveling, etc, etc.

Then, we hear about the people who have died, for example a church member’s sister’s uncle’s grandmother who they have no idea about or never met and that will give me a bang my head against a spike moment. We also hear about how much my mother in law misses her over 100 turtles even though it’s been like five hours since she’s seen them.

By the two-hour mark, not only am I ready for them to go to their hotel room that they don’t have, I’m ready for the entire visit to be over with. But, what’s that? They brought a few gifts for the hummingbird. Hmmm, I can’t imagine what the theme of these gifts will be. Oh, look at that! A shirt with a turtle on it and lookie at the other one, a turtle purse.

At this point, I’ve gone into the kitchen at least once but more like twice to get a few shots of vodka. I can’t forget how the father in law will also discuss ALL the fucking construction in detail that he saw while driving up from Boston. Oh. my. god. A text usually goes out to my mom around this time with something usually along the lines of “help!”.

It will be about time for the bird to get into bed and once she’s tucked into her room, the four of us sit there while my FIL goes back to talking about the construction he saw on the way up here. He wonders what they’re doing if it’s road construction and make assumptions. If it’s something he saw being built like a new construction site, oh lawdy, he goes through the details of how it’s going to be built, with lots of detail and with a fine tooth comb even though he doesn’t know what the hell it’s actually going to be.

And again, this is all assumptions but since he loves to hear himself talk and lecture he seems pretty sure of himself that what he’s saying is fact. Oh. my. god. By now it’s been a good four hours since they’ve arrived and while it may be a little rude, I’ll turn on the television and put it on closed captioning and turn down the volume so he can continue with his lecturing and so I won’t fall asleep because the man is like human ambien.

What has become a little escape for me turns into a nightmare because the FIL starts reading the closed captioning out loud. And, he has 20,000 questions about what’s on when I haven’t yet seen it myself. He’s like my 7 year-old when watching things. Is it really that difficult for a 60 something grown man to not be able to draw conclusions for himself??! I mean, he seemed pretty capable with talking about construction bullshit and the people on the plane and in the airport and AGGHHH!

During this time, my MIL will take some passive aggressive starter strikes at me about how the house looks or how the hummingbird is being raised and how that’s not the way they did it when her kids were growing up.

I’m finally done and head off to bed completely wiped out. But the thing is they get me so wound up and are so fucking exhausting to be around that I don’t know what to do with myself. I’ll end up being too tired and mindfucked to sleep.

The next morning, I absolutely dread opening the bedroom door while hearing them out in the kitchen while the hubby gets breakfast together.

My FIL will always ask how I slept and if I’m doing okay. I’ll tell him no, no I’m not okay and I slept like shit because you two stress the fuck out of me so I’m sleep deprived and pissy from the lack of sleep I had that may have been resolved if you would have just stayed at a damn hotel.

Okay, that’s what I’d like to say but just say a simple fine. There’s of course not much breakfast table chatter since my FIL won’t shut the fuck up. He’s like one of those talking dolls that has a string in the back and once you pull it, it talks for a few seconds. Except, his string doesn’t have a stopping place.

There’ll be plans to go out and see the sites but oh darn, I’ve come down with some mysterious ailment and would be better off staying at the house while they go out with the family.

The non stop talking from my FIL and the passive aggressive bullshit from my MIL continues for the rest of the visit and finally the moment arrives.

They’re LEAVING!! HALLEFUCKINGLUJAH!

I put on my fake sad face and it’s all I can do to stop myself from shoving them out of the door. Finally, they’re gone and the bird will feel sad so I’ll console her while in my head a mariachi band plays to celebrate there departure. A few weeks after they’ve left, I’ll start to recover and get some of my sanity back.

After a month or two, the husband will mention that his parents are looking forward to come up and visit us again soon. My eyes meet his and I give him the death stare followed by a ‘they were just here!” A few months later, my daughter will start asking when she’ll see her grandma and grandpa again and I start to feel myself weaken.

The hubby and I go back and forth about what’s a good time for them to come and visit. I weaken some more and think this visit won’t be as bad as all the other ones, despite my 21 years of knowing otherwise.

Because damn it, maybe it’s all me and not just them and I’m sure I was just being on edge when they came for a visit last time.

This visit, I’ll make sure to do all that I can to have more patience.

They arrive and I will make this visit work in my favor.

Two hours later and two shots of vodka down the hatch and I’m ready for them to leave.

And the cycle repeats.

Oy!

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I’m Sorry I Ate Your Chips And Dip. And Drank Your Pepsi. And Didn’t Give You Any Peace And Quiet Unless I Was Unconscious.

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This past summer, we went camping at a cabin for four days. It may not seem like roughing it but I’m not outdoorsy so that was like being in an episode of Naked and Afraid. With the exception of the huge scare with the hummingbird’s hypoglycemia, the days prior were really nice, although being in close quarters with each other could test my patience.

I’m the type that gets drained by being around people frequently so I need to take time to recharge by myself. That’s hard to do when you’re stuck in the middle of nowhere in a small cabin.

After a few days of a lot of togetherness, I decided to stay at the cabin for the afternoon while the hummingbird and husband went swimming. When we were at the lodge picking up some overpriced items we really didn’t need, I grabbed some french onion dip and chips.

Yes, I actually have fond memories of my mom eating chips and dip. It represents me being about 10 years old during the summer, without a care in the world, playing outside for hours.

While looking back on my childhood, it seems rare that I saw my mom sitting down for long. The times I do were when she’d have some free time to just chill out with a magazine, a Pepsi (I’m a coke purist but had no control back then), and some dip with wavy Lays or ruuuuffles with riiidges. Am I the only one who remembers the ruffles with ridges commercials?

Just to be clear, I was a 10 year-old with a “my parent exists only to wait on me hand and foot” mentality. Kind of like when you realize your parent’s name is something else besides “mom” or “dad” and they actually have outside interests besides their kids wants and needs.

What kind of crazy talk is that?!

I would occasionally find her sitting in the dining room with an ice-cold Pepsi, chips and dip, and the latest gossip about Princess Diana or what kind of marriage crisis Elizabeth Taylor was in.

Because parents will forever be fucked when it comes to finding free time without their kids finding out, I felt it was my duty to sit with my mom and bug her. Not intentionally. Just because that’s what kids do best.

I would always ask her if I could have some of her chips and dip and she would never deny me. Then I’d be like “Mom? Can I please have just a tiny sip of your Pepsi? Please? Please? Please? What are you reading? Can I read it after you’re done? Which story are you on now? Elizabeth Taylor did what with who? Mom? Mom? Can I have a few more of your chips? And just another tiny sip of your Pepsi?”

Then, there was the camping trip over the summer and the several hours spent together with a lot of togetherness.

So, while I spent an hour alone that day, I enjoyed the hell out of it. And I noticed I was doing the same thing I remember my mom doing. The cabin was quiet except for the hum of the ceiling fan and I sat at the dining room table enjoying my coke, chips and dip, and reading my gossip rag, US Weekly.

I was finally relaxing for the first time on our camping trip but at the same time I had no idea when the hubby and my 6 year-old would walk through the front door and that’s when it hit me.

Oh my god. My poor mom. In her quest to find some peace and quiet from her kids, not only did I never leave her alone unless I was sleeping, all the poor woman wanted was a cold drink with some chips and dip and some celeb gossip between loads of laundry and cleaning the house and I took it from her.

I ATE IT! I ATE MY MOM’S CHIPS AND DIP!

The things moms and dads are put through that you have no idea about until you have a child can blow my mind. I had a grilled cheese for lunch recently and guess who wasn’t hungry but changed her mind upon me taking my first bite of my sandwich.

It ended up being hers, except for the crust and I didn’t say one damn word. Oh, I had plenty to think. Like “Omg, you’re taking my delicious, cheesy food and I’m STARVING!”

But on the outside, I was all “would you like me to make one for you? No? Okay. Sure, you can have half. Oh, you went through that fast. The crust? Sure, I’ll take the crust because I’m fucking hungry and you’re eating my food and not eating yours and you will never understand this until you have kids of your own and damn, that was the last, delicious, cheesy bite of my grilled cheese sandwich that you just ate.”

*When We Were On Fire

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Vegetarian Spinach Enchiladas

Photo Credit: Two Peas

Photo Credit: Two Peas

I’ve been cutting out meat for the most part but it’s been challenging when it comes to finding something my husband will like as well as my very picky 6 year-old. I love that this enchilada recipe uses green enchilada sauce since the hummingbird won’t go near the red sauce.

What makes me love these even more is these enchiladas can be made ahead of time and they freeze really well. Just sprinkle the cheese on after being taken out of the freezer. This would be a perfect dish to make for a new mom or neighbor.

I serve this with a side of refried beans and a salad with a dressing of low-fat sour cream and salsa.

Enjoy!

Ingredients:

1 tablespoon olive or grapeseed oil
1 small yellow onion, diced
1 clove garlic, minced
8 cups (about 2 bags) fresh spinach leaves
Juice from 1 lime
1/3 cup chopped cilantro
1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
1/4 teaspoon ground chili powder
1/2 cup light sour cream
Salt and black pepper, to taste
2 cans (10 oz each) Old El Paso Mild Green Chile Enchilada Sauce
8 Flour Fajita Size Tortillas
2 cups shredded light Monterey Jack cheese, divided
1 cup shredded Cheddar cheese, divided

Optional Toppings:
Green onions, chopped
Fresh cilantro, chopped
Diced avocado

Directions:

1. Preheat oven to 375 degrees F. In a large skillet, heat olive or grapeseed oil over medium high heat. Add the onion and cook until softened, about 3-4 minutes. Add the garlic and cook for an additional 2 minutes. Add the spinach leaves and cook until they are wilted and shrinks down. Stir in the lime juice, cilantro, cumin, and chili powder. Remove from heat and stir in the sour cream. Season with salt and pepper, to taste.

2. To assemble, spread about 1/2 can of enchilada sauce in the bottom of a 9 x 13 baking dish. Fill each tortilla with about 3 tablespoons of the spinach mixture. In a medium bowl, combine both kinds of shredded cheese. Sprinkle cheese over spinach mixture, about 3 tablespoons per enchilada.

Roll up and place seam side down in the baking dish. Top enchiladas with the other 1/2 can of enchilada sauce and about 1/2 of the other can. We had some sauce leftover. Sprinkle remaining shredded cheese on top of enchiladas. Bake 20-30 minutes or until the cheese is melted, and the sauce is bubbling around the edges.

3. Garnish enchiladas with green onion, cilantro, and avocado, if desired.

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10 Things To Do Before Christmas

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10. Battle it out with the tape and wrapping paper.

9. Get a sugar buzz from hot cocoa.

8. Get a buzz from spiked hot chocolate.

7. Curse out the Christmas lights.

6. Cry when hearing your favorite holiday song. Damn you, emotions!

5. Buy enough booze for a small army because family is coming.

4. Decide you want to get a jump start to a healthier lifestyle and don’t make it past dinner because CHRISTMAS COOKIES.

3. Wonder why the hell you’re sending holiday cards to half the people on your card list.

2. Say “I’m never doing this shit again!”

1. Watch Elf.

Happy Holidays!

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