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Presidential Memorandum Regarding Santa Claus

It hasn’t even been a week and the actions that Donald Trump has taken has been, well, worse than I thought they would be and scary as fuck.

My 7 year-old heard me talking about “The Wall”. No, not Pink Floyd’s “The Wall”, Trump’s “The Wall”. The hummingbird asked how high “The Wall” would be because she wouldn’t want a wall to block Santa Claus. She was concerned that kids all over the world wouldn’t get presents if they separated us.

Out of the mouths of babes.

I was sitting there later on watching Anderson Cooper and feeling like I’m in some Twilight Zone episode while they talked about “The Wall”. I’ve been so full of anxiety all week and bitching about Trump to my husband and feeling so stressed.

Leave it to him to make me feel better. While I was glued to the news (which I really, really need to turn off), my husband had a little surprise for me. He wrote an executive order that Trump would probably, no, forget probably. It’s something he would absolutely do.

I laugh about this now but who knows if there will be something even more insane Donald Trump pulls than banning Santa Claus.

You’re a mean one, Mr. Grinch.

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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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I Spent The Summer With My Husband And Didn’t Kill Him

My husband retired from the Navy over the summer and was at home. He was waiting for his new job to start but with all the paperwork and signatures they needed, he was home for two damn months. I thought he would start his new job a few weeks after he retired but nope. I would ask him if he had heard anything about it nearly everyday.

The first week was really nice. We did things like go to the farmer’s market, went to the park, went to lunch, blah, blah, blah. After all these years, I actually convinced him to go to the nail salon with me and he actually got a pedicure. He didn’t say anything afterwards, but we all know he liked it. Then, we closed on our new house and moved in. Things went pretty smoothly until the last few weeks. I wanted to get back into my routine. He started making me crazy.

When I would ask him if he heard anything and he said no, in my mind, I threw a toddler fit. The kind where you try to pick a toddler up but they go limp and are like a slippery noodle and then they throw their head back, red faced and crying while speaking gibberish. Yeah, I was like that.

And then finally, he had news that he was starting work two weeks from then. YES! I will finally have the damn house to myself!

The husband finally started work a few weeks ago and the hummingbird started school on Tuesday. I can now drink my coffee in peace and more importantly, while it’s hot.

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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!”

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I’m Not Really Sure What I’m Trying To Say Or If I Even Have A Point So, I Guess It’s Like Anything Else I Write On Here

Obviously, I haven’t been as dedicated to my blog in the last year as I was for the first 4 years. And I’ve been trying to figure out why because I really miss it. I’m still writing but not on here very often. But the other week it hit me. It’s self-doubt, among some other things.

Yes, I may sound like a whiny bitch but when I came across some things last summer about people doubting I was ever pregnant with my son that I lost last year or if I’m even a mom at all what the fuckity fuck?!, that just put a bad taste in my mouth when it comes to writing on my blog and over sharing. I just felt like “fuck this”. I know I’m way too sensitive but it’s hard to accept that there are people like that out there. If I read something I don’t like on a blog, I move on and don’t rip that person to shreds. Especially since there are a billion other blogs to read.

No, not everyone has to love me or what I write but damn, I openly share these things about myself because not only do I feel better when I’m so open… it’s kind of like therapy, I know what it feels like to think you’re the only person out there who’s going through depression, anxiety, the what the fucks of parenting and motherhood, and figuring out what the hell is up with this husband guy I live with and his never ending snoring and grinding of his teeth and lack of talking or talking too much when I have that special one night a year to enjoy The Oscars and the butthead talks all the way through the ceremony and I want to punch him in the balls. Really, hubby? Really? You rarely talk as it is but talk nonstop the one time of year when I’d prefer your usual silence??

So, yeah. I used to think my blog was a safe haven in a way but since last year, I worry about anything I may write and what may possibly be picked apart elsewhere.

But I know I should say fuck it. This type of thing comes along with the territory although knowing there’s a site out there specifically to rip apart women bloggers is unsettling.

The grief I’ve been experiencing more and more from the loss of Ben has also had such an effect on my desire to write. His first birthday would have been June 4th and the closer that date comes, the harder it is to get my ass out of bed and somehow function as best as I can.

We also recently found out that while we have one more year in Maine, the owners are coming back this summer and we have just a few months to find a house, pack, and move by July. And since my husband will be retiring from the Navy next summer, we then have to move again to what we hope will be our permanent home somewhere on the west coast.

I’ve logged into my blog many times to write about each of these things but since knowing that whatever I write may be put under a microscope by others and judged, it sucks. And to be blunt, it’s very hurtful.

But then I think there may still be those who actually read what I write because they like it. At least I hope they do. And that’s exactly who I should put my focus on.

It’s so true how you can have people say 10 positive things about you but it’s the one negative thing that will be what sticks out in your mind.

I need to stop thinking about those who will always have negative things to say or may hate read my blog.

I need to go back to writing the way I used to. Writing without having all of this self-doubt about how others will perceive it.

Fun little fact… I took an Ambien an hour ago so if this doesn’t make a smidgen of sense, there you go!

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