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Proof positive that I was not entirely sane

  • Posted on June 18, 2010 at 4:00 pm

I have a delightful plugin for this site called This Day. As you might imagine, it lists all the posts available on the same date in the past.

Today, I actually took the time to click through the titles and read them. And shake my head and laugh, both at the writing and at my level of paranoia. I was so sure that if I posted *any* detail that it would immediately become apparent who and/or what I was discussing.

Case in point: Quotable Quote from 2004. Joseph was 10 months old at the time, nursing ALL DAY LONG, and I looked like this…

Yes, it’s awfully blurry. I refused to stand still for my picture to be made. Yes, I am wearing bike shorts WITH a bathing suit. No, they didn’t make bathing suits that would properly support the awesome weight of my saggy milkbags boobs.

But enough about that. In this post, I refer to two men that want to spend time with me. One wanted me to come to him, one wanted to come to me (but not spend time with my kids).

The first thing you need to know is that I have absolutely NO CLUE who those men are today. Paranoia caused me to sanitize out any identifying information, and I’m friends with LOTS of people who are “at least two states away”.

The next thing you need to know is that neither of these visits happened. At the time the thought of leaving my babies for ANY amount of time was enough to cause an anxiety attack. I had a hard time separating from them to go to the gas station, going out of town (or to a local hotel room) for a weekend was completely unthinkable.

To be completely honest, I don’t know what I was thinking. I mean….I KNOW what I was thinking (Men!!! They still want me!!!!) but still.

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Interlude: Humiliations Galore

  • Posted on April 30, 2009 at 5:07 pm
This entry is part 4 of 10 in the series atypicalrelationship

His parents went to Greensboro for dinner and a hotel room to celebrate a special family occasion.

Which means that we had one of the very few chances for us to have some quiet alone time.

After a full day that involved trying to pull the toilet in my bathroom to unclog it (can’t do it – one of the bolts is rusted on) (calling him to find out if he can help me but he didn’t answer the call til 3 hours later), cleaning, shopping for / trying to find pants for work and then going to work (at a grocery store. during thanksgiving shopping week. you do the math), flipping out on Miss “I’m not STUPID I made sure all the leaves were way way far away before I set the stuff on fire in the driveway” (but without making sure that the waterhose actually FUNCTIONS) during my dinner break I was exhausted.

I dropped the go-kart off at the house (after work. At 1130pm) and rode with him back to his house, where I learned the HARD way that hot water lasts about five minutes. So much for that hawt shower scene he had planned….

So I dried my shudderingly shivering body off and listened to him talk about how the heating element needs to be fixed (dude? I have a 50 gallon hot water heater set to 120 degrees – I can shower while the dishwasher runs and STILL finish my shower pink and pleasantly toasty). Then we made our way to the bedroom where his plan included shaving. With a set of loud 20 yr old clippers. I lost count of how many times he nicked me with that thing. The vibration was somewhat pleasant though.

Did I mention his bedroom used to be the side porch? It was just a smidge freezing in there. And there’s just enough room for a twin bed, a computer desk, and a small dresser. Claustrophobia anyone?

THEN he realized that I would need another shower since hair was everywhere. The good news? The hot water heater had regenned. The bad news? again – not nearly long enough. Cold. Coldcoldcoldcoldcold.

Y’all? it’s 1am by now and I’m fried. And rocking in his bed trying to get warm and calm the exhaustion-related panic attack that’s right around the corner. And all I could think of was my lovely bottle of meds tucked away into my medicine cabinet. At my house.

Unfortunately, I failed miserably. I spent the next 45 minutes in his mama’s bathroom sick as a dog – complete with vomiting.

He did reasonably well by me, but couldn’t quite grasp the WHY involved in my sickness.

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Exhilarated, excited to be in love(ish) again

  • Posted on April 30, 2009 at 12:57 pm
This entry is part 3 of 10 in the series atypicalrelationship

We go out as often as we can, but I honestly prefer hanging out at the house with the kids. He keeps asking “would you marry me?” and I keep ducking the question. It’s too soon, he’s too still-married, please stop asking. Okay, if I answer will you NEVER ASK ME AGAIN? Then yes, I quite possibly WOULD marry you. If I actually believed in marriage. Privacy is impossible at our respected homes, so he occasionally gets a hotel room. It is a source of….not argument but something close to it. He doesn’t understand my general “hotel rooms squick me out” attitude (if I didn’t clean it, how do I KNOW it’s clean??!!??). But it *is* nice to be able to snuggle up and enjoy each others company.

Unease rumbles through my gut, punching me periodically. The things around the house he said he can do? are not done. Nor have we discussed WHEN they would be done. These are not small things, either: weatherproofing a window, changing the oil (he didn’t want me spending $30 at the quickchange) and replacing the brake pads on my van. Blowing the leaves. But he does go with me to select a new washer and dryer. And then a dishwasher. It’s odd, but nice.

We do not spend Thanksgiving together (he says he did not drive and ended up going to several relatives homes) but he does manage to come over on Christmas day.

The boys and I go to his house for New Year’s dinner. His house, his mama’s house is chock full of breakables. I don’t relax until the children go outside to play. He notices I’m giving myself a headache and directs me to get the bottle of ibuprofen from his desk. Next to the bottle of ibuprofen? a bottle of vicodin. I pull him to the side and ask about it – at no point did he tell me about this. “This?” he smiles condescendingly at me. “That is codeine. The muscle relaxer I take.”

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I’m spending $400 on

  • Posted on June 15, 2008 at 9:00 am

A trip to Carowinds. Gasoline, admission, food, and a hotel room so I don’t hafta haul our exhausted cranky behinds home after spending all day in an amusement park.

I’m participating in The Millionaire Mommy Next Door’s abundant life spending spree

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