Monthly Archives: March 2011

Things that annoy (revised)


I was going to write a post listing all the things about my husband that annoy me.  It was not going to be a short list and after getting into it, I started feeling not so good about myself for writing it.  I decided instead of hating on my husband, I’d write a list of thing that I do which I’m sure must annoy him, even though he’s nice enough not to mention them, let alone go around making lists cataloging my flaws. 😉

1. I pick all the good stuff out of any food that has good stuff in it – cookie dough from the ice cream, marshmallows from the cereal, the good dried fruit bits from the mixed dried fruit – and leave the rest for him.

2.  I leave clumps of hair in the shower drain and then bitch at him when he sticks it to the shower wall (cause that’s gross!).

3.  Sometimes I have a little too much wine and tell him a bunch of stuff and then the next morning I tell him all the same stuff because I don’t remember that I already told him.

4.  More times than not, I don’t do dishes or clean up after myself when I cook.  I will never switch the laundry.  I save a nice big mess for when he comes home from work then I act like I’m completely overwhelmed and just need a break.

5.  I have the shortest temper of anyone I’ve ever met.

6.  It doesn’t matter who I’m mad at, I take it out on him.

7.  I’m a nag.  Totally.

8.  I get in moods where I want to get everything done.  Like right away and all at the same time.  I start off all determined, get mad when it doesn’t get done as quickly as I thought it would, get frustrated and overwhelmed and take a break that sometimes lasts weeks.  And then I get mad at him because the things aren’t done.

9.  This has happened several times now: I pick out a color to paint a wall.  I buy the paint and he paints it.  Then I wait a few weeks, hate the color and make him repaint some other color.  He is now repainting our bedroom, because when I was about five months pregnant, I decided I wanted it painted blood red.  I had this awesome idea in my head about red walls with all black and white decor.  Unfortunately, after I bought a bedspread, I forgot about decorating the rest of the room.  So it’s a red room with a black and white bedspread and nothing else.  I told him he should never have listened to a crazy, twin-pregnancy-hormone-infused woman when she asked for red bedroom walls in the first place.  His answer was he would never say no to a crazy, twin-pregnancy-hormone-infused woman no matter what insane thing she wanted.  And also, he liked the red walls.

10.  Guess who did 99.9% of the overnight feedings with the twins.  (hint: it wasn’t me)

Okay, so there you have it.  He is not perfect – he has his flaws, but so do I. I am not always, but I can be a pretty shitty wife when I want to be and he has never once complained about me or thrown any of that stuff in my face.  Not ever.  And he rubs my feet every single night. I am very lucky. 🙂


The Stopover


Why is it that no one seems to get that 7 pm is a really bad time to stop by my house?  It is the beginning of bedtime, which usually takes close to an hour, and then it is my dinner time.  I just like to relax by myself at the end of the day – to have my dinner, lay on the couch, watch some crap tv and wait for my husband to get home.  The very last thing I want to do is entertain visitors.

I got a text message today from a friend and it said she’s stopping over here at around 7.  Did we have plans, even tentative ones, prior to this text?  Uh, no.  I’ve tried to explain to her before that 7 pm is a BAD TIME for someone with 14 month old twins.  Even on a Saturday night.  In fact, 6 pm and beyond is strongly discouraged unless the kids are staying somewhere else.  And she knows that my daughter has been sick and hasn’t really slept much at all in the last 5 days.  It’s not a good time to visit.  And by ‘stopping by’, just how long a visit are we talking?

And, ugh, does it mean I have to clean up?

update: I asked her to please make it another time (I was careful to say ‘time’ not ‘night’ or ‘evening’) because Eliza was getting over being sick and was still tired and cranky.  She only said, ‘OK’ via text message.  I think next time I see her, I’ll try to explain that evenings are really bad for me right now, especially if we haven’t planned anything in advance.  And by ‘right now’, I pretty much mean for the next five years or so. 😉



A few years ago, I felt like such a failure.  S and I had just gotten married and my new family – his family – are breeders.  His mother has four kids and at the time, his sisters had five kids between them.  Our fertility struggles made me feel so absolutely inadequate that the idea of family get-togethers sent me into sheer panic mode.  Whenever he said something about a picnic or birthday party with his family, I felt like I couldn’t breathe.  I loved playing with all the kids, but I dreaded the inevitable questions about when we were going to start a family.  And more than that, I dreaded one of his sisters announcing another baby was on the way, before I’d even had a chance to have one. During the 3+ years we were TTC, that happened twice, though thankfully the announcement weren’t made at family parties.  They had S tell me when we were alone at home.  I cried my eyes out the first time.  It was pitiful.  The second time, I just sighed.  Of course she is.

Right after sister #2 announced her pregnancy, she asked me to be godmother to her 4-year old, who they had just decided to get baptized.  I was torn.  I absolutely wanted to do it because I love this little boy and was honesty honored that they’d chosen me to be his godmother.  But on the other hand, I wanted nothing to do with spending the day with his pregnant mommy, sneaking envious glances at her little baby bump.  But I decided to do it, mostly because I really wanted to and also because I didn’t want anyone to know how much the baby struggle was affecting me.

I knew agreeing was a huge gamble.  I was about to start another IUI/injectable cycle which would be coming to its conclusion right around the day of the baptism.  As it turned out, I was 13dpo on baptism day.  By that Friday (11dpo), I was officially freaking out.  I’d been going back and forth between test/don’t test for days.  If I tested and it was negative, I might cry when I see the pregnant sister.  If I didn’t test, I’d be wondering the whole time and be completely distracted.  And I’d probably still cry when I saw SIL.  What if I tested positive, but started bleeding before the baptism?  Then I wouldn’t be able to force myself to go…

In the end, I bought a test because I was completely convinced I was not pregnant and I thought if I knew that on Friday, I’d have two days to get used to it.  That way, I could prepare myself for the belly encounter and (hopefully) not cry.  I went to the grocery store and bought a FRER and a salad.  I got home, peed on the stick, and sat down at the computer desk to eat my salad while I waited for the dye to run across the test.  I glanced at the test and it was negative.  But as I stared at it, the faintest second line started to appear.  It was not negative and I started shaking.  I couldn’t even finish the salad.

So I went to the baptism and the first thing the sister said to me was that I looked different, but she didn’t know why.  Seriously, she said that!  And justlikethat, I was in the club.  An outcast no more…

Wrong!  When I entered the Mom Club, I alienated myself from the rest of the family – my side.  I spent a lot of time during that 3+ years worrying that my brother and his wife or my cousin and his wife would beat me to the baby.  I was so sure I’d get a call from my mom, sympathetically telling me that my brother’s wife was expecting and please try to be happy for them because they would be happy for me…but that call never came.   Nothing from the cousin either.  As it turns out, I was worrying for nothing because none of them even want kids.

My mom had a family party yesterday and invited all these people.  They sat around drinking and talking about their cool jobs and all the traveling they do and how they (yuck!) never want kids.  And once again, I was the outcast.  I was chasing the twins around, then trying to put them down for naps, then feeding them dinner and I heard someone say with total sarcasm to my cousin’s wife, ‘Come on, you mean you don’t want one of those?’  She got this look of horror on her face like she’d rather rip her fingernails out one by one.

And you know what?  I was a little bit jealous of all of them.  Not because I wish I didn’t have kids – I couldn’t be happier to have these two!  But I put some things on hold when I got married (because I was distracted and lazy) and I just never went back to them.  I looked around and out of the six cousins sitting there, I was the only one who hadn’t finished college.  I was the only one who never made the leap from ‘job’ to ‘career’.  And I was the only one who hadn’t taken a vacation in about 4 years because we spent all of our money (and then some) on fertility treatments.    They are all doing these great things and what am I doing?  Well, I’m raising kids, which is exactly what I wanted to be doing, but I feel like I should be doing a little bit more.

Which is why I have to stop writing this and finish the college application I started filling out a few weeks ago.  Yes, at 34 years old, I’m finally going to finish school and then (hopefully) get a real grown-up career.  I really wish I’d finished before, when it would have been easier and more convenient.  But I guess it’s one of those ‘better late than never’ situations.

The dumbest reason to be annoyed


Along with a few other things, my sister-in-law (S’s sister) got the kids each a pair of pajamas for their birthday.  They’re cute and I like them but one says ‘Dad’s Rock Star’ and the other says ‘I ❤ My Daddy’.  Every time I look at the PJs I feel annoyed.  Why?  Because both outfits say Daddy and there’s no reference to Mommy.  I have no problem with S’s sister – we get along great.  She didn’t do it to piss me off  and who in her right mind would be pissed about that?  Me, that’s who.  And I’m totally aware how dumb that is. :-p

Pro and Cons


When I was much younger, I thought I’d like to be a single parent.  I’ve never been much good at compromise so I thought it would be a better idea for me – I’d get my way every single time. I would be the only boss!  What I didn’t think about was how difficult parenting actually is.  I mean it’s freaking time-consuming!  There are no guaranteed breaks.  Nothing ever goes according to plan.  I’ve actually stopped making plans because it bothers me too much if when things don’t work out the way I intended.  So I’m very grateful to have a partner, someone I can ‘tag in’ when I need a break, even though he doesn’t get home from work until after 10 pm.  Hey, a break is a break, right?  As long as I know there’s a light at the end of the tunnel at the end of a particular horrific day, I’m okay.

Then there are days like today.  Today I don’t have a partner, I have another dependent.  I have a large child with the most annoying blank stare I’ve ever seen.  It’s the kind of look that contorts my face and makes my eyes glow demon-red with frustration.  Okay, not really, but that’s what it feels like on the inside.  It’s the kind of stare that makes me wonder why I bother trying at all.

I remember my mother telling me she couldn’t wait for me to have kids so I’d ‘understand’.  Well it’s not the kids that are driving me nuts – at least not yet.  It’s him.

The difference between him and me is: I try.  I know how that sounds but it’s true.  When I’m home with them, which is just about every day, I make sure they get fed when they’re used to eating, naps, baths, diaper changes, play time, change of scenery, bottles.  Basically, we have a schedule that we’re all used to and it’s comfortable for all of us.

When it’s S’s turn, it’s like he’s being stubborn on purpose, just to prove he can do things the way he wants to do it.  They miss naps, don’t ever get their teeth brushed in the morning, stay in their footie pajamas all day and never leave the TV room.  S plays video games from the couch and pretty much ignores them.  At night, he flat-out refuses to give them a bottle before bringing them upstairs to go to bed.  He brings them up, plays with them for a little while, puts their PJs on (assuming at some point during the day, he felt like getting them dressed), and all the while they get crankier and more tired.  Then I’ll come up and start brushing their teeth and casually ask if they’ve had a bottle.  No, of course they haven’t.  So here we are, about 45 minutes past their regular bedtime and they haven’t even had a bottle yet.  And I will have to rebrush their teeth. And this is the day that’s supposed to be my ‘break’.

I know how this sounds – like I’m a controlling maniac who is using this blog as a device to bitch out her poor husband to a bunch of strangers on the internet.  It sounds horrible.  It sounds just as horrible when I say it to him on a daily basis.  It’s always something.  Not one day can go by without him doing something to piss me off.  No, the world doesn’t end because they’re off the schedule for one day, but it would be nice if I felt like S was on my team instead of some rogue player who steps in once a week.  Like he’s a freelance parent or something.

This morning, I got out of the shower to come downstairs and find my 1-year old twins in their feeding chairs with a try full of fresh peaches and no supervision whatsoever.  S was in the kitchen washing dishes (here it is – the PRO: I’ll give him props for that – he’s really good about washing dishes).  They have been eating solid food for only a few months.  I have told him, I don’t know, A MILLION TIMES, that he needs to be in the room with them when they eat.  Not necessarily staring at them the whole time, but at least in the room able to look over every once in a while.  I’ve tried to explain to him that choking is not the loud production we often see depicted on TV.  It’s quiet and then it’s too late.  So what does he do?  He waits for me to be somewhere else so he can sneak off and do things the way he wants to.  And then when I catch him, I get the look.  It’s the same look my dog gives me when I come in to find he’s pooped on the floor.  I guess it’s better than the blank stare though. :/

I’m honestly at a loss.  I know I need to be less controlling but I also need to be able to trust him to have better judgment when it comes to our kids.