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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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Caulk Block

I look forward to when my husband pulls out his big caulking gun and a tube of caulk sealant. That means my inner 12 year-old boy comes out so it can take advantage of all the cock talk I can come up with. There’s always that time of year I dread. Ant season. Those little assholes come onto our kitchen counter and I just want to set fire to the house after so many days because they drive me crazy.

Enter caulk.

Husband: The ant bait seems to be working but I’m going to get my big caulk out and see if that helps.

Me: So, you’re going to caulk block them then?

Husband: Yeah, with lots of caulk.

He’s currently trying to get the master bathroom shower all caulked up. He’s been drying the shower with a fan since last night before he caulks it up and it’s driving me crazy because the fan cord is plugged in right in front of the toilet so whenever I’ve gone to the bathroom since yesterday, I have to be careful to avoid the tripwire that is the fan cord while making my way to the toilet so last night while getting up, I didn’t want to turn the light on so I just took these giant steps while hoping I wouldn’t trip over the cord from the fan and kill myself in the middle of the night. All this so my husband can get his caulk on in the shower.

The time finally came for my husband to rock out with his caulk out.

Husband: I get to go use my caulk in the shower.

Me: Have fun. Try not to be too messy.

A few minutes later…

Husband: My white caulk is too white. I need a nude caulk.

Me: Okay.

Husband: I’ll be at Home Depot looking at the different caulk. I’ll get the hardest caulk they have.

Me: Don’t get too big of a caulk though. We want it to fit what you’re caulking.

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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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Hide My Shit

When I was about 9 or 10, I borrowed my mom’s scissors for something and when she asked for them back, I forgot where I put them. On television, they were showing an Alice In Wonderland two-part special and it was the second night. Since I couldn’t find the scissors, my mom was angry and wouldn’t let me see the second night of it. I thought she was the meanest mom in the world. The scissors were found the next day where I had absent-mindedly put them on a windowsill covered by a curtain.

Turns out, my mom wasn’t in fact the meanest mom in the world. She was just sick and tired of me losing her shit all the time, I’m sure. I’ve found that I have to hide anything, even from my husband, that I don’t want to go missing. In fact, the issues of scissors comes up frequently. I have a secret spot for two pairs of scissors. One is a small pair and the other I use to open up my hundreds of amazon packages.

The small orange handled one is hidden away in my bathroom and the other scissors are in the very back of our junk drawer. But, even those get found and then lost so I resorted to hiding them in the bedroom closet. The older my daughter gets, the more I have to be a hiding ninja.

It’s the same with my lighters that I use for my vanilla candle addiction. I use the long lighters and probably go through several a year since my husband will borrow one for the grill and I’ll reluctantly hand it over and then will I ever see that lighter again? Of course not.

Somehow, between the kitchen and my husband’s grill on the deck, it gets Twilight Zone’d and disappears into thin air. Later on, I’ll want to light some candles for winding down and then I can’t find the fucking lighter. My husband will just respond with “it’ll show up sometime” and I want to bop him on the head because how does he expect me to unwind when I can’t find the damn lighter for my damn candles so I can fucking relax?!

Then, there’s the chocolate issue. We have a bowl of candy in the pantry but I’m hooked on the Lindt chocolate truffles and have to be careful where I put them. I thought the perfect place would be behind my Shakeology bag… fyi, that stuff is gross. It turns into this gelatinous goo even when I drink it in a fast amount of time. I know some people swear by the stuff but if you come across it, don’t bother. Making my own fruit smoothies with protein powder is so much better.

Okay, I’m totally off track. Back to my chocolate. I hid it behind my protein powder where I thought my husband never goes and while the hummingbird was wanting some chocolate, he mentioned my chocolate stash. That’s mine! My precious Lindt truffles are all miiine!

So, I have to find a better place to hide them if I buy a bag… like in my belly. If you’re a parent or parent to be, hide your shit. Because if you don’t, you’ll never see it again. Then again, when you have kids, you have to worry about finding their shit too.

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Douche Bag

Me to Husband: Something smells fishy in the house. It’s like if you swam in a lake fishy kind of smell. What the hell is that?

Husband to Me: Maybe you need to douche.

Me: Runs up and jumps on his back while playfully pretending to strangle him. Goes back to sit on couch.

Me: I’m serious though. The house really does have a light fishy smell.

Husband: Then, close your legs.

Me: You asshole!

Me: Playfully pretends to strangle husband again. Honest. He really is still alive.

What it ended up being was that the hummingbird hadn’t been flushing her toilet and left the lid open with lots of pee. Gag!

Another day…

The hummingbird is in summer camp and we have the house to ourselves all day. We went out to lunch and came back home. It was only 1 pm so we had four more hours to kill and spend together.

Me: What should we do for the rest of the day?

A wide open opportunity to get some down and dirty time. Oooh la la.

Husband: I’m going to watch some You Tube videos on how to fertilize the yard.

Me: Yeah, I think I’m going to read for a while.

And, this is what (21 years of) marriage looks like.

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More Cowbell

Flash-Gordon

My husband needs to wear a cowbell. He’s the type of person who just sneaks up on to you out of thin air. He appears out of nowhere. Most of the time I want to tie a cowbell around his neck so I can keep track of him.

Just today, I was in the bedroom and heard the backyard door shut. It seems like not even a minute later, I start walking out of the bedroom when I see something zoom out of the corner of my eye. I’ve been a bit jumpy since I’m reading this book, and when I saw a blurred figure getting closer to me, I screamed my ass off.

He stood there looking at me like I was a crazy person and I told him he’s going to give me a fucking heart attack if he keeps this going. He’s also excellent at disappearing out of nowhere. On our second to last move, he was standing right next to me as he was talking with one of the movers.

And then, BAM, the mover asked a question, I turn to my husband, and he’s not fucking there. It’s like he has the speed of Superman. The hummingbird and I spend part of each night calling for him when she’s getting ready for bed. She’ll be calling DAD! DAD! DAAAAAAD?! while internally I’ll be thinking “What the fuckity fuck???? Where in the fuck did he fucking go???!”

My husband reminds me of this character in a movie called Dear God with Grep Kinnear. It’s a pretty cheesy but cute movie. The quick version is he’s a con artist, has to get a proper job after being arrested, works at the post office, and starts answering letters from people who write to god. It’s not religious-y though. Let’s say ‘religious-y is an actual word.

Anyway, totally getting off track. Greg Kinnear’s boss, played by the always awesome Hector Elizondo, pops up from time to time and whenever Greg’s character turns to ask him a question, Hector is gone in a flash.

Hector’s role completely encompasses my husband. He’s Flash Gordon. It can be rather annoying but we joke about it even though it irritates me to no end. I’m actually getting him a cowbell for Christmas as a joke.

I already know I’ll quickly regret that decision because not only will my husband walk around with it to annoy me, the hummingbird will get a hold of it and drive me insane but we’re getting her a drum set for Christmas so I figured it will be a good combo.

I’m a glutton for punishment….

Willingly getting a drum set for my 7 year-old. But the truth is, I want to learn to play too.

Then I can say, “Hubby, take it away. More cowbell!”

Comments { 2 }