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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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An In-Law Visit: Your Ass Will Need A Nap After This

Hola! I’ve been taking a break from my blog for a bit but I’m baaaack. So, my in-laws recently came to visit for 5 days. 5 fucking days of hell. I’m so very jealous of people who have such nice in-laws and get along so well with them.

Can we please trade? No? I don’t blame you.

After a lot of time goes by from their visit, I think “Well, maybe they aren’t so bad after all.” But when they come back to visit, I think yes, yes they sure as hell are!

My mother-in-law, as usual, gave me plenty of her quips and witchy ways and I still don’t get what’s up her ass to be like that towards me.

Example: At breakfast one morning, we had pancakes. I asked the little hummingbird if she’d like syrup on them since she usually does. Simple, right?

But as usual, when I direct a question to my 6 year-old or husband, my MIL always, always, always has to interject.

Me: Little bird, would you like some syrup?

Little bird: That’s okay, I don’t need any.

Me: Are you sure?

Little bird: Yeah.

Mother-In-Law to Me: Aren’t you listening? She can make her own decisions and said she doesn’t want any! Why don’t you just leave her alone?!

Yeah, she got many digs like that in, just like she always does.

My FIL spent most of the time, like every time they visit, lecturing and rambling on. Completely oblivious to the fact that everyone becomes fidgety and bored. This man is like natural ambien.

I actually recorded some of what he was talking about, pretending like I was taking pictures when we were out to lunch one day. It was for the purpose of emailing it to my mom and sister since they are entertained by him but at the same time, can’t believe the shit he talks about.

It’s very difficult to not only follow whatever he’s saying but also impossible to chime in and try to steer his lectures conversation in another direction.

This is just a transcript from the 1 minute 32 second (it went on for 45 minutes) recording I did. And let me tell you, doing this transcript was as exciting as watching grass grow.

I started recording while he was in the middle of talking about whatever the hell he was talking about. I was so tuned out but mostly heard Blah, blah, blah, DNA. Blah, blah, blah. Blah, blah, DNA, blah. It’s like listening to adults in the Charlie Brown cartoons.

Father-In-Law: The authors had incurred their names and some sayings into a DNA. Either 4 letters and you could just use those letters to, um, to represent any letters if you put 2 or 3 together so you can make a code.

And then you can in code your name into it. What he did, uh, he’s done some pretty neat things with DNA and printings so he… his book that he just recently published, and he printed the whole thing and coded into one DNA strand and then he replicated it.

He put 70 billion copies on his book into a single drop of DNA onto this piece of paper that was smaller than a period. 70 billion copies.

The idea is that through DNA, it’s a more efficient way of storing things than the most advanced computers right now.

Here’s how the hummingbird felt about the 45 minute lunch while he was talking.

fil-talking

Me too, hummingbird. Me too.

Have you had to endure any visits from your in-laws recently? 

Updated: In case you’d like to stroll down memory lane, here are a few more of my in-law posts. A Lack Of Boundaries With A Side Of Ranch Dressing, How My MIL Ruined My Wedding And Made Me Want To Set Myself On Fire Just So I Could Get Away From Her Crazy, and When You Wish Upon A Star… And It’s Stuck… Up Where?!

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Marriage Before Kids Vs. Marriage After

Sex

Before – Having sex anywhere you please and for as long as you want.

After – Lying in bed together late at night, getting frisky, and then a few minutes later, hear the slightest noise and scramble to put your clothes back on when it just ended up being one of your cats getting into mischief.

The next morning while our young daughter is watching her favorite cartoons, run into the bathroom together, lock the door, and have a quickie. But our daughter always seems to have the spidey sense to figure out we’re missing and starts banging on the door, asking us why it’s locked. “Um, uh, your dad and I had something we needed to talk about really quick.” Or “Oh, was the door locked? I’m not sure how that happened.”

Showers

Before – Taking a shower and having my husband walk into the bathroom to join me.

After – Taking a shower and having my husband walk into the bathroom while I start thinking “Oooh, nice. We haven’t done this in a while.” Only to have him end up digging through the cabinets to find a princess band-aid for our kid’s boo boo. Also, having my husband and I actually say boo boo.

Romantic Nights In

Before – Cuddling on the couch, sipping some wine, and watching a movie.

After – Watching the same episode of Daniel Tiger for the 50th fucking time.

Talking About Our Day

Before – Having all the time in the world to discuss matters.

After – Trying to talk to each other while your kid says Mom? Mom? Mom? Dad? Mom? Mom?

Or talking as fast as an auctioneer when your kid leaves the room and trying to get in a week’s worth of talking within a few minutes.

Or filing it in your brain under “we can wait and talk about this without interruption once our child has moved out of the house”.

Going Out To Dinner

Before – Going to a sushi place and getting tipsy on sake.

After – Going to the “fancy” McDonald’s with a playground.

 Car Trips

Before – Listening to whatever you want, getting flirty and handsy with your husband, and being able to talk for hours.

After – Listening to your child start asking “are we there yet?” within 2 minutes of leaving for your destination because holy hell, they really do ask that and it’s not just something you see kids do in movies and get stuck hearing a Kidz Bop cd over and over while you try with all of your might to keep yourself from opening the car door and jumping out of a moving vehicle so you can escape the most annoying music you’ve ever heard.

What are some things you miss doing in your relationship after having kids? Also, can we start a petition to ban all Kidz Bop music for the sanity of all future parents?

*Sergei Polunin

** I got the hummingbird a Kidz Bop Christmas cd a few months ago and it was kinda cute the first time we heard it but by the time we got home, I wanted to rip my face off.

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