I am engaged in a moral and ethical war for the soul of my husband. I have been a strong force in his life, but lately I have sensed a new and powerful force in our galaxy. I sense this presence to be an evil one. One for whom there is an insatiable thirst for more. More of this more of that. I have tried diligently to turn Dan away from this evil force, to instill in him our mantra: “do I really need this, or is this just a want?” However, the dark one has it’s own mantra: “it is easier to beg forgiveness than to ask permission.”
The worst part about this moral war is that the dark force has the upper hand. Damian actually works with Dan and so has his ear from 9:00 am until 5:00 pm. This has forced me to make several “check in calls” during the day. Oh sure, I pretend that I am “just calling to say that I miss you” or that I am “just thinking about you.” But really, I am saying: “STAY AWAY FROM THAT DEMON SEED!! FUCK GOING OUT TO LUNCH; HE ONLY WANTS YOU TO GO TO BEST BUY OR CIRCUIT CITY WITH HIM. SAY NO. STAY AWAY FROM THE LIGHT!!!!”
I fear that my “love you’s” are falling on deaf ears. I can hear the distraction in Dan’s voice when I call. When I ask if he is really busy at work he replies, “ahhhhh, yeah…..(pause)……I just need to finish this…..ahhhhhh….thing up….ahhhh…..so, yeah…..can I call you later……” Oh hell no! I know what this means. He needs to finish something up so that he can “just run out with DAMIAN on some errands.” Dan will come home full of stories of all the purchases DAMIAN has made. Dan will pretend to be mystified at the ease at which DAMIAN can spend money without consulting his moral compass, meaning his wife. He will shake his head and mutter, “I don’t know how those guys can do it.” But what he really is thinking is: “easier to beg forgiveness….”
I have taken drastic measures by ichatting with Dan during the day. This is time consuming and difficult because one can’t do dishes or laundry while ichatting. This is why the phone had been my weapon of choice, but I am forced to adapt. DAMIAN is an elusive creature who uses his cell phone, (which I must memorize on our caller id), to contact Dan. This weekend I thought we, rather Dan, would be safe from contact. But DAMIAN does not hold Easter as a holy day. There is no greater holy day for evil spirits like DAMIAN than release dates for things like computers or the new playstation. Do you people see what I am up against?
A few weeks ago I was gloating. Dan was getting his vasectomy, which wasn’t easy on either of us. I convinced him, without much trouble, that I was entering the “danger age range” for women taking birth control bills. We knew we didn’t want any more monkeys, and I am not getting any younger or healthier, so this made sense. When DAMIAN and his little serfs balked at Dan undergoing this minor procedure, Dan stood his ground, even informing DAMIAN and his manservants that it was in their wives best interest to have this procedure. I was glowing with pride, until Dan said: “yeah, and besides, none of us husbands want our wives to die of cancer……that would leave us with all the kids.” DAMN YOU EVIL SPIRIT!!
Of course, DAMIAN has been very comforting to Dan during his recovery, which is the world’s longest. I can just picture Dan at work, limping around, whimpering softly, and here comes DAMIAN to comfort him. He swoops down, covering Dan with his black velvet cape (DAMIAN has a thing for black velvet) whispering in Dan’s ear: “buddy, you don’t look so good. You need to come out with us at lunch. We are going to the apple store to check out the FILL IN THE BLANK WITH SOME USELESS GAGET. Come with us, I’ll even buy you lunch. Do you mind if we stop at best buy on the way?” Of course Dan doesn’t mind. I mind!
DAMIAN has even suggested that Dan may want to go on a “boy’s weekend away” to get away from it all….meaning get away from his wife and all rational thinking. He is unholy! The forces of good and evil are deep in battle and it doesn’t help that Dan has been home all weekend with two very crabby kids. DAMIAN offers a life of luxury, with lots of useless and expensive toys. The lure of this Kavorka is strong. I see myself showing up at Dan’s work with a can of garlic spray and a meijer’s shopping list that has feminine hygiene products on it. I mean business! I have put a great deal of time and effort and mental conditioning to keep Dan on the straight and narrow and I am not about to give up his soul now.
DAMIAN, you will go down in flames. I have been hiding all kinds of mailers from Dan. And I can ichat until my fingers bleed. I will not lose!!!!
3.25.2005
a night where dreams come true......
Two words have changed my whole attitude: DURAN DURAN. I was fortunate enough to be a part of the way-over-30 group of screaming women last night. What absolute fun. I can’t remember dancing so much --- and in HEELS! And although my feet are still so swollen that the giant flesh bundles on my feet have swallowed up my bunions, it is a small price to pay. Sadly, john taylor and I were not able to rekindle our romance, but that is ok. The band’s performance last night will keep a smile on my face for the next few weeks!!!!
http://www.Duranduran.com
http://www.Duranduran.com
3.20.2005
that's the fact, jack
I am not always a good wife. It is not that I don’t care, because I do. It really means a lot to me to be a good wife, maybe not so much a good “wife” as much as a good spouse or life companion. Either way, sometimes I suck at this job. And yes, it is a job. Yet another job of mine in which I receive no financial compensation, but take advantage of all the sexual harassment.
So, I digress. I am not always a very good wife. Dan recently underwent a minor surgical procedure --- and let me make this absolutely clear…..it was a MINOR SURGICAL PROCEDURE. We are talking, he goes into the office, gets a shot of Valium, and is back out in the lobby within 30 minutes. Yes, brace yourselves men, I am talking about a vasectomy. Now, I won’t bore you with the inner-struggle Dan underwent in deciding to have this procedure. The back and forth, the hem and haw, the yes and no went on for months. MONTHS!!! Finally, Dan was able to reach his decision when it was made clear to him that I didn’t mind if we had 15 more children, but that I would NOT be able to stay home and would be returning to the workforce within 20 minutes of being released from the hospital, post-delivery. Look, I have heard of other women who threaten to withhold sex from their husbands until they agree to this procedure and I have always wondered why. Why should I punish myself? What is the point in that? Truth be told I am reaching an age where taking birth control pills just isn’t healthy. And my vagina and I had a long discussion in which we agreed not to “party like it’s 1999” ever again. So, my winga and I explained the situation to Dan and he saw our point and agreed to a MINOR PROCEDURE.
After weeks of stress, agony and worry, and one cancelled appointment, Dan goes in with a brave face and comes out with a small bag containing his balls. Just kidding. I’ve had those balls in my purse since our wedding day. Kidding! I kid because I love. I take the boy home and tuck him into bed with pain pills and ESPN on full blast. Ahh, paradise. Now I spend the next 7 long days having conversations (more like listening to him talk) about “how more aware” he is of his left testicle, how “intense” the tenderness is, how scared he is to cough, how nervous he is about the children “jumping at him”, etc, etc, etc!!! As day 9 “post-op” slowly and defiantly crawls towards me I prepare for another day listening to the daily play by play of how the fellas are holding up. I’m getting a little cranky and am complaining to my mother about how I can’t take anymore, she is telling me to be nice and kind while I am biting my tongue until it bleeds. Dan comes up from the basement to find me to give me yet another update about how he is doing, but instead of hearing about his stitch, and yes I said STITCH, as in ONE AND ONE STITCH ONLY (note: amount of stitches has no bearing on the size of one’s manhood), he looks kind of sad. When I inquire what is up he tells me he had been watching a rerun of a sitcom that focused on a married man with 3 kids. This particular episode was mainly about the kids and the kind of chaos they can cause. Dan said that something about seeing those kids made him kind of “sad” and he realized that we wouldn’t be adding to our current level of chaos. I was shocked. I sat him down in a chair, took his hand in mine, and calmly explained that what he was experiencing was normal, something we all have experienced. Quite simply, Dan had a bad case of buyer’s remorse.
So, I digress. I am not always a very good wife. Dan recently underwent a minor surgical procedure --- and let me make this absolutely clear…..it was a MINOR SURGICAL PROCEDURE. We are talking, he goes into the office, gets a shot of Valium, and is back out in the lobby within 30 minutes. Yes, brace yourselves men, I am talking about a vasectomy. Now, I won’t bore you with the inner-struggle Dan underwent in deciding to have this procedure. The back and forth, the hem and haw, the yes and no went on for months. MONTHS!!! Finally, Dan was able to reach his decision when it was made clear to him that I didn’t mind if we had 15 more children, but that I would NOT be able to stay home and would be returning to the workforce within 20 minutes of being released from the hospital, post-delivery. Look, I have heard of other women who threaten to withhold sex from their husbands until they agree to this procedure and I have always wondered why. Why should I punish myself? What is the point in that? Truth be told I am reaching an age where taking birth control pills just isn’t healthy. And my vagina and I had a long discussion in which we agreed not to “party like it’s 1999” ever again. So, my winga and I explained the situation to Dan and he saw our point and agreed to a MINOR PROCEDURE.
After weeks of stress, agony and worry, and one cancelled appointment, Dan goes in with a brave face and comes out with a small bag containing his balls. Just kidding. I’ve had those balls in my purse since our wedding day. Kidding! I kid because I love. I take the boy home and tuck him into bed with pain pills and ESPN on full blast. Ahh, paradise. Now I spend the next 7 long days having conversations (more like listening to him talk) about “how more aware” he is of his left testicle, how “intense” the tenderness is, how scared he is to cough, how nervous he is about the children “jumping at him”, etc, etc, etc!!! As day 9 “post-op” slowly and defiantly crawls towards me I prepare for another day listening to the daily play by play of how the fellas are holding up. I’m getting a little cranky and am complaining to my mother about how I can’t take anymore, she is telling me to be nice and kind while I am biting my tongue until it bleeds. Dan comes up from the basement to find me to give me yet another update about how he is doing, but instead of hearing about his stitch, and yes I said STITCH, as in ONE AND ONE STITCH ONLY (note: amount of stitches has no bearing on the size of one’s manhood), he looks kind of sad. When I inquire what is up he tells me he had been watching a rerun of a sitcom that focused on a married man with 3 kids. This particular episode was mainly about the kids and the kind of chaos they can cause. Dan said that something about seeing those kids made him kind of “sad” and he realized that we wouldn’t be adding to our current level of chaos. I was shocked. I sat him down in a chair, took his hand in mine, and calmly explained that what he was experiencing was normal, something we all have experienced. Quite simply, Dan had a bad case of buyer’s remorse.
3.17.2005
mother from another planet
I seriously believe that sometimes I am from another planet. It is a really great planet where husbands and wives are actually friends and enjoy spending time with one another. It is a planet where a husband/father sees housekeeping as partly his responsibility, not just the female unit. A planet where childrearing and decisions regarding the little people units are discussed between both parents until mutually agreed upon. It is a planet where the mom and dad do without all their little “extra toys” and focus their money on what is best suited for the entire family unit. It is a planet where “family game night” and “family movie night” exist. It is a planet where the husband and wife actually want to be alone with each other (read: love having sex and love talking about how great the sex is between them). It is a planet where the mother unit could not care less about things like what type of clothes she wears and is grateful her “I had two enormous babies so step off” ass is able to even fit in pants. The mother unit is always happy to help out at the children’s school, but isn’t interested in the petty politics of the parent organization. The mother unit from this planet loves to be with her children, but has never cried when school began. This alien mother is happy and content to spend her nights (and some days) in her p.j.’s enjoying the quiet of the house.
The truth is that I find that I don’t fit in with my so-called circle of friends. Yes, my kids can get on my nerves---hey, I am human people! Yes, my husband does have some odd behavior quirks that make me dream of putting a steak knife in his neck, but I ultimately love him. In fact, he is my best friend. I don’t say this in a “gee, we have so much in common, we are so connected on an inner-personal level.” I mean Dan is my best friend. I can literally say anything to him without any fear of retribution or score keeping. He is always willing to listen to me endlessly go on and on about how what I fed the kids for lunch or how disgusting the fish bowl was when I cleaned it, or how I found a great way to remove all the soap scum off our shower walls, how hard I worked getting the sink in the basement clean, etc. The fact that this man hasn’t blown his brains out is a fucking miracle, especially since the sound of my own voice makes me want to do this.
One of the best parts about Dan is that there is no game playing. When he says, we are friends, he really means it. He never puts his friends to the test, he is not judgmental (even when they are really fucking things up for themselves). He is supportive and kindhearted. He is able to listen without trying to always fix my problems (for the most part, come on now, this is a MAN we are talking about). I am really lucky to be married to a great guy and true friend (who is great in the sack, too, from what I remember, after all we are in a holding pattern until he completes his “healing process”). I have never had such a true and solid friend until I met Dan.
I don’t know if I have so much trouble with women because I am from another planet. I seem to be the “odd man out” in my friendship circle. I operate like most women: suppress your anger, be petty and gossipy, never confront a problem with another woman directly, lie about your hurt feelings, and hide. And yet, these things about me and other women are making me loathe the female species. Every day I feel as if I have just touched down on this planet and somewhere between the drop off and the pick up from school I develop a sudden urge to leave this planet and return home.
The truth is that I find that I don’t fit in with my so-called circle of friends. Yes, my kids can get on my nerves---hey, I am human people! Yes, my husband does have some odd behavior quirks that make me dream of putting a steak knife in his neck, but I ultimately love him. In fact, he is my best friend. I don’t say this in a “gee, we have so much in common, we are so connected on an inner-personal level.” I mean Dan is my best friend. I can literally say anything to him without any fear of retribution or score keeping. He is always willing to listen to me endlessly go on and on about how what I fed the kids for lunch or how disgusting the fish bowl was when I cleaned it, or how I found a great way to remove all the soap scum off our shower walls, how hard I worked getting the sink in the basement clean, etc. The fact that this man hasn’t blown his brains out is a fucking miracle, especially since the sound of my own voice makes me want to do this.
One of the best parts about Dan is that there is no game playing. When he says, we are friends, he really means it. He never puts his friends to the test, he is not judgmental (even when they are really fucking things up for themselves). He is supportive and kindhearted. He is able to listen without trying to always fix my problems (for the most part, come on now, this is a MAN we are talking about). I am really lucky to be married to a great guy and true friend (who is great in the sack, too, from what I remember, after all we are in a holding pattern until he completes his “healing process”). I have never had such a true and solid friend until I met Dan.
I don’t know if I have so much trouble with women because I am from another planet. I seem to be the “odd man out” in my friendship circle. I operate like most women: suppress your anger, be petty and gossipy, never confront a problem with another woman directly, lie about your hurt feelings, and hide. And yet, these things about me and other women are making me loathe the female species. Every day I feel as if I have just touched down on this planet and somewhere between the drop off and the pick up from school I develop a sudden urge to leave this planet and return home.
3.14.2005
feeding my hate
I seem to be spending a great deal of time trying to hide in the dark and quiet corners within my house. There is something troubling me, but I can’t quite put my finger on it. One possible reason for my inability to play an active role in my life is because of this book I am reading. A friend gave it to me after we had spent an afternoon complaining about the way women treat each other. We both agreed that we didn’t trust women on the whole, rather we viewed them with suspicion, as if waiting for the “real” face to be shown. Women wear masks. If fact, we wear several. Most are harmless covers we use to shield our true feelings. We don’t want the world to know that our lives aren’t perfect. Why should I complain about my life? I have all the blessings I could ever handle. How dare I complain? The truth is, my life isn’t perfect. There are times when I don’t enjoy my life. There are times when the responsibilities of being a stay-at-home mother are too much for me. One part that makes it especially difficult is being part of a group of other moms. You might think we could find a common ground, all being mothers. And we do. It feels good to vent, to share the feelings of frustration of dealing with little people day after day. I feel a sense of relief that I am not alone in hating the daily grind of getting kids up, fed, washed, dressed and off to school in the morning. After a while you start to feel as if you are losing your mind. Our routine in the morning is the same and yet I guarantee there will be at least one morning this week in which I will find one or both of the kids just sitting naked on their bedroom floors. When I ask (read yell) what they are doing they respond with blank looks on their faces and ask, “what am I supposed to be doing?” A few months of this and even the toughest, war-worn solider would crack.
There is some relief found in the quiet hours of the morning, sharing breakfast with these other moms, sharing stories and offering comforting shoulders. But, these few happy times are not enough to change my overall opinion that women are devious, manipulative, cruel, and insensitive. It seems to go against all we are taught to think of as women. We usually see women as loving caregivers who act as the glue that holds the many delicate ends of their family together. This is not always the case. In fact, within the last month I found my once “happy place” to be a cold and judgmental playground in which I again felt the target. It is hard to believe the ways in which women can suppress their feelings. These are my friends…..how many times have we as women uttered these words? And how many times have we come to realize that definitions of a friend differ drastically among women.
And forget about dealing with our problems head on, we would rather sit and stew in our anger and hurt feelings. Dan does not understand this and will often say to me, “just tell her that she hurt your feelings.” As if! When I really stop and think about it, if she were my friend she wouldn’t have said those things to my face in the first place. What I hate most is that I just stand there and take it. What a fucking coward I am. I am just so disgusted with myself.
There is some relief found in the quiet hours of the morning, sharing breakfast with these other moms, sharing stories and offering comforting shoulders. But, these few happy times are not enough to change my overall opinion that women are devious, manipulative, cruel, and insensitive. It seems to go against all we are taught to think of as women. We usually see women as loving caregivers who act as the glue that holds the many delicate ends of their family together. This is not always the case. In fact, within the last month I found my once “happy place” to be a cold and judgmental playground in which I again felt the target. It is hard to believe the ways in which women can suppress their feelings. These are my friends…..how many times have we as women uttered these words? And how many times have we come to realize that definitions of a friend differ drastically among women.
And forget about dealing with our problems head on, we would rather sit and stew in our anger and hurt feelings. Dan does not understand this and will often say to me, “just tell her that she hurt your feelings.” As if! When I really stop and think about it, if she were my friend she wouldn’t have said those things to my face in the first place. What I hate most is that I just stand there and take it. What a fucking coward I am. I am just so disgusted with myself.
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