No Whining Today.

After yesterday’s rant, I feel the need to tell everyone that I now feel cleansed and can move on with my life. I’m done talking about the Angry Blue Monster. For now.

I was mad at Husband for acting like an asshole to me on Thursday and so I told him yesterday that he better not come home without flowers. 

He came home without flowers. 

He put on his LSU pajama pants and laid down on the couch to check his email. I casually asked him where my flowers were. He just as casually asked where my vase was. I said, “I know you forgot and you won’t win this argument. I want and deserve some freakin’ flowers. TODAY.” And you know, I have to give the man credit. He got up, got dressed again, and left to get them. At 9:00 p.m. And he did it cheerfully.

They’re beautiful.

I don’t claim to have a perfect marriage. It is flawed and wraught with problems, just like everyone else’s. But I have to say, learning how to ask for what I need has really helped us communicate better. I don’t have time to stew in silence and wait for him to ask what is wrong. He may not even notice I’m stewing. He might just think to himself, “Wow, it’s sure quiet around here. I like it.” I am not patient enough to wait for him to figure out what I’m thinking … also, he will never, ever guess correctly, so it’s pretty much a waste of our time. 

It’s unfair to expect the men in our lives to notice we’re upset if we can’t open our mouths and say I’M MAD AT YOU. Men are just different. They don’t notice certain things. Maybe by the time we’re retired, we’ll have learned how to correctly guess what the other one is thinking. But for now, we’re forced to talk it out.

After a stressful week, I decided to spend the weekend trying to relax. This means that there are 4 loads of clean laundry piled in my bedroom that I’m actively refusing to stress over. We’re playing outside and I’m going to make peach cobbler. The fact of the matter is, my vagina hurts but otherwise my life is good and I need to enjoy it. There will be no whining today.

Low Point.

Sometimes motherhood is BULLSHIT and I think it’s important for someone to say this. There are plenty of warm and fuzzy moments and teachable moments and times when you feel like you have really done something good with your day.

But then there are other days that just suck. From beginning to end, they suck. Occasionally this can drag out for weeks. Sucky day after sucky day with little glimmers of warmth and fuzz thrown in. I am currently in the midst of a sucky MONTH.

We’ve all been sick, one right after the other. Husband and I are bickering. The kids are cranky. No one is sleeping well. ONE woke up with a massive nosebleed – it looked very much like he slaughtered an animal in his sleep – and at almost the exact same moment we were dealing with that, we found TWO in his bed stark naked. He stripped off his pajamas and diaper himself and was just hanging out, waiting for someone to retrieve him.

It’s raining and we are on our last $20 until payday. The kids are out of school for the Mardi Gras holiday and I don’t feel like being fun and creative and thinking of cool things to do. You want to know what I feel like doing? Locking myself in the bathroom for 12 hours.

Thankfully, Husband is being really good-natured about my hormonal episodes. Yesterday morning around 9:30-ish I finally had one kid asleep and the other one was with my in-laws and I announced that I was going to take a nice long shower. Husband said “okay” and proceeded to follow me into the bathroom … OH NO YOU DON’T. 

I proceeded to screech at him about how I just needed time to myself and I wanted nothing to do with anyone and he got his feelings hurt (understandably) and went into the living room. A few minutes later I started to feel guilty and went to apologize. I walked in to find that he had shut all of the blinds and curtains in the house and it was really dark and cave-like which instantly put me in an irrationally bad mood. I walked up to him and said, “I was coming to apologize for being mean to you, but then I saw that you shut all the curtains and that made me mad at you againso I no longer wish to apologize.

And then I walked away. 

Surely at some point things will start to improve. I realized just how low we had sunk when I showed him my lump, which might be a hernia, and he seemed to mistake it for a booty call. No, that‘s actually my intestines. Perhaps we can try to reclaim our romance once my INNARDS HAVE BEEN SEWN BACK IN.

Warning: This Is Inappropriate.

Something about pregnancy makes me simultaneously inappropriate and obsessive-compulsive. For example, a thought will pop into my head and I’ll obsess over it and finally share it with the wrong person at the wrong time. This is where the inappropriate part comes in. Like right now. I’m about to overshare with you. Whoever you are.

Husband received the following text from me yesterday while he was with a customer:

What if having this baby stretches my vagina out so much that it’s rendered useless???

His response:

It won’t.

I was not satisfied with this response. How does he KNOW? There is no way to know. It’s anybody’s guess what may or may not happen to me and my parts. I wanted to discuss it. I needed to come up with a contingency plan, just in case. Because I am obsessively, compulsively worried about it, RIGHT NOW.

He later explained to me that he was with a customer and therefore unable to get involved in a hypothetical discussion about how large my vagina may or may not be after birthing our second child.

Today’s latest text to Husband:

Are you going to the store? DO NOT forget to get stool softeners.

Based on his failure to respond, I have to assume he was with a customer when he got that one too.

Adult Conversations

We have a new mattress set. I told Husband, one day — a day far away from now — we will actually have sex on it.

I never thought the day would come when I would be more than happy to strike sex off my radar. But here it is. I DON’T WANT TO DO IT.

I feel like my body is turning against me. 

For example, I have reason to believe that my boobs are trying to kill me in my sleep. When I lie down, they creep up around my neck. And sometimes, my chin. I feel like I can’t breathe. I think they are also causing me to snore.

I told my friend about this.

Anna: Is your snoring bothering Husband?


Anna: If it is … it would be poetic justice.

In our situation, bigger boobs do not a happier Husband make. This concludes my oversharing for today.