Hide The Mess

adventures in marriage

I love being married. It's been a good thing for me. Since we met five years ago we have worked towards a goal of some sort. First we did the wedding thing, then the baby thing, and then the house thing. And now, we're about to do something major again and it's exciting and a little scary. I can't really say what it is in detail but it could mean an fantastic opportunity for my husband and to be honest, I haven't seen him this amped up about something in a very long time. Maybe ever. We said after we moved that we would just chill, enjoy life, not take on something else big, but sometimes life puts something in your path and it's pretty clear that you need take note and quite possibly gamble a little bit and do something exciting and frightening. So we're going for it. If I were not married, I would let fear get all up in my business and I wouldn't even really consider what we're going to do, but with this guy I'm married to, my attitude has become: BRING IT. That's how marriage has been really good for me, it makes things that would have seemed impossible to the single version of myself, seem not only plausible, but oh hell yes possible. So - here we go. On an adventure.

three

Three years ago today I got married in the Smoky Mountains of Tennessee. It was the perfect wedding for us. Small, simple and fun. When we first got engaged we thought we would have a big local wedding, but as we made lists and looked at venues we realized that the expense and number of people we would feel obligated to invite just didn't make sense. So we pitched the big expensive wedding plans and opted for a small chapel in the mountains with our close family. I have never regretted that choice. I know some of my other realitives were disappointed but it's one of the times in my life where I made selfish choices based on what my soon-to-be husband and I wanted. The other time I made selfish choices was at the birth of my son. I hurt some feelings that time too and it wasn't that I didn't care that their feelings were hurt, it just didn't change the decisions we made. Family - especially mine with its largeness and pushiness - isn't always easy to navigate. But this isn't about that. It's about marriage. Or at least my marriage. For the most part, our marriage is easy. We don't fight too often, but we do fight because we are human and live in the same house. We laugh more than we cry. We have more joy than sorrow. Our cups are more than half full. I feel lucky to have found my husband, lucky to be on this road of marriage and parenthood with him. No matter what my petty resentments about the day to day grind of life, there isn't anyone else I would want to do this with. He is not perfect, but he is perfect for me.  

It's All Very Confusing.

I can't tell you how many times I have thought recently that I need to write something down and yet now that I sit here with a few moments to myself I can't remember a damn one of them! I should really start writing them down on little sheets of paper the second they pop in my head. I used to do that all the time. I had little notebooks stashed everywhere. In my purse. In my car. In my bag for work. Everywhere. I still have one in my purse, I believe the last entry was sometime in 2007. The year I met my husband and my life got all upside down and FULL. That's been my biggest excuse for not writing lately. It's not that I don't have anything to say, it's just that I have so very little time to myself anymore. My life is full. And I'm not complaining about that. Seriously, I spent 20 years on my own, keeping myself company, filling up my life the best I could. Then I got married and I don't have to actually put effort into filling it up. It just happens. Even though if you ask me what we're doing this weekend I don't think we have anything planned, socially, but the Be A Grown Up stuff takes up a lot of time. House cleaning, laundry, car maintenance, baby watching, grocery shopping. It chews into the day and so by the evening we're kind of done and just want to sit on the couch and catch up on our recorded Tosh.O or whatever.

Our kid is not too fond of food these days and my mom suggested that we sit down for family meals so he can watch and participate and maybe that would get him more interested. The problem with that is he goes to bed at like 6:30-7:00pm and when you work all day it means you gotta get home, get dinner made and get the Wee One in bed during the first hour you're home and let me tell you, that is exhausting. I know because we actually tried it a couple of times. I know my kid goes to bed early but that's because he gets up early and if you tell me to put him down later so he will sleep later I will CUT YOU because that did not work. Nothing has worked actually. I keep waiting for this phase to be over. The phase where he wakes up once or twice a night. The phase where he gets up sometimes as early as 4am (UNACCEPTABLE). And if you tell me it's not a phase I will cut you some more. My son is 11 months old today and he still wakes during the night, doesn't hold a bottle for himself (does not act interested in that in any way shape fashion or form) and is less than thrilled with solid foods. According to my mother, he's sort of like me. Which is rude and I wish he would knock it off.

I could go on and on about my kid and the things that worry / cause me frustrated rage. But I won't. Mainly because if I write all that down the internet will run out of space, because people, I know how to worry. I have a Ph.D. in that shit.

Other random shit: In relationships sometimes someone has a vision for your life together that isn't entirely the same as yours. What's odd about this is that it's not a bad vision, it's not a wicked path full of darkness and scary things. It's fine. It's just not one I would have chosen and sometimes I have to really pep talk myself into being enthusiastic about it because at the end of the day, it's not my vision, it's not my dream. How do other people do that when their significant other wants something that their partner is just "meh" about? I want to be supportive and I want to be a team player. I just don't always know how to do that in this context. It feels forced and fake. And I really hate that. More than anything. Because what he wants, in his mind, will benefit the family, and all I can see is more work for me. How selfish is that shit right there? But honestly, the second it comes up I think about all the time I don't have now and envision that there will be even less of it when Situation X takes off. I need to adjust my attitude and my thinking, I'm just not sure what that should look like. Gah. Marriage and parenting are confusing.

This Week Can Suck It

This week:

Monday - Fight with best friend.
Friday - Fight with husband.

I am so glad this stupid, stupid week is over. Maybe in hindsight I can figure out why I picked those fights. Or maybe I already know. I have lost my voice (not literally) and it's like something inside me wants to scream at people on a regular basis because I'm not saying things. I am stuffing so much of how I feel and what I think that it is leaking out of me in ways that I can't always control. Last night I was just awful to my husband for no reason, he was trying to have a conversation with me and I was just an asshole. It's like I was just looking for a fight. I'd been irritated with him all day about something that happened earlier and even though we talked about that thing when he got home and on the surface it was resolved and cleared up, maybe it wasn't. Maybe I wasn't done. I am not a brave fighter when it comes to him. I am an asshole and then quickly try to smooth things over and apologize and get scared. When he put his shoes on as if he were leaving I thought I would have a stroke. He was just going to clean out his truck but then later, when I heard the garage door and saw his truck leaving, oh my god, the panic. I called him on his cell phone and made him promise he was coming back. I know it's irrational and I know logically in my head that he's not leaving, but sweet Jesus, something happens and I feel so panicked and insecure and scared. When does that get better? When will that feeling not be so huge? When will we be able to have a fight like normal people and I don't immediately think he's going to leave me? When will that fear go away. Because I am sort of done with it, you know? 

The BFF is going to start working more hours at her other job. She received a promotion and raise and is expected to put in more time, so we will definitely be putting the Wee One in traditional daycare. I have moments where this sounds so awesome to me. He'll get to be around other babies and socialize and do fun things and then, I'll let my mind go to the actual leaving him there part and I want to cry. Leaving him with strangers is frightening to me. I know he will be fine, it's me I'm not so sure about. Oy. I dread that.  

Sometimes I get the whole wife and mother thing wrong. This has been one of those weeks where everything I touch turns to shit. I am just going to keep telling myself that today will be better.

ink

As an anniversary gift to each other my husband and I got tattoos. I know, we're romantic. We did not get matching tattoos, my husband hates matchy matchy. He ended up with a cross on his bicep, with our son's initials incorporated into the design. It looks awesome. He loves having our son's initials on his arm. He loves being a father so much. It gets me a little misty just thinking about it.

My tattoo is a little more complicated. About fifteen years ago I got a ladybug tattooed on my neck, up in my hairline. At the time I had wicked short hair, so it was one of those tattoos you could see but only if you knew where to look. Which most people did not. And then I grew my hair out and you really had to dig through all my massive hair to see it. Anyway,  I wanted to give that ladybug some company and I wanted to transform it into something else. So I had my favorite tattoo artist incorporate butterflies and ladybugs behind my ear and down onto my neck. What I pictured in my head is nothing like what I ended up with. It's so much better than what I had in my head. It's larger and more colorful and I love it. LOVE. There is a story behind that one lonely ladybug. How it got there, under what circumstances and how it was a reflection of the horrible person I used to be. No really. I did some shitty things in my past. To wit:  I got that one ladybug tattoo just so someone else would also get a tattoo. I wanted her to do it because I knew her boyfriend at the time would hate it. I knew he would hate it because he hated mine, he told me that shortly after I'd slept with him behind her back. See? I don't even like to write that down because it reminds me of just how awful I was and how broken and sick. I can't even really connect with that girl anymore. When I think about that time in my life, it's like thinking about a movie or TV show and none of the people are real. But I was real. And that lonely ladybug tattoo represented something awful in me, that I kept hidden underneath my massive hair. And now that ladybug has been recolored and is joined by a parade of other ladybugs and butterflies. It's no longer just a part of a horrible story from my past, it's now a part of this beautiful thing I have in my present, my marriage. 

Two

On Monday of this week my husband and I celebrated our two year wedding anniversary. It seems like we have always been together, longer than two years that's for sure. It's funny how time works like that. I can only sometimes pull up in my memory database what it was like before we met. And usually to do that I have to go back and read old journal entries. I feel so different now than I did even 5 years ago. So much internally has shifted and changed. Not in a bad vs. good sort of way, who I was then was fine, I liked her or was learning to at least. And who I am today, I like most of the time. There is still an internal dialogue that I am afraid to express out-loud. I feel muzzled a little. Like I can't always speak out-loud how I feel inside. Even four years into this relationship and two years into this marriage, I still feel afraid to reveal all of myself to my husband. I hate writing that, I hate that I harbor thoughts and feelings and secrets. We talk about the big stuff, but there are little things that I do not share and I am not sure how to feel about that. I don't always feel understood, I don't always feel like I can say what I think and feel because I am afraid he will think less of me, or that it will be used against me later on. I hate even writing any of this shit down because when I look at it I do not like how it looks. None of this, by the way, is about my husband. It is about me. I know that. And don't misread any of this, our relationship is good, and solid, but it is not perfect. I never expected it to be. I went into this thing knowing it would be work. But sometimes it's work I don't know exactly how to do, you know? Like I missed some sort of training class on how to be married so now I'm having to figure it out as I go along. I do love being married, even though maybe reading this maybe doesn't sound like it. I really do love it. As with any intimate relationship, it requires work from me. I just don't always know how to do the work. But I'm willing. Sometimes that's the best I can do. Is just be willing to do the work.

A collection of things

Sometimes I am overwhelmed by how much I love this little family of mine. I want to run into the baby's room, snatch him out of his crib and just absorb him into me. Then I want to run into my bedroom, wake the sleeping husband and tell him I can't contain for one more second how much I love him. I won't do either of those things, the baby needs to sleep and waking him would be ridiculous and my husband would probably just smile a sleepy smile and go back to sleep.

Yesterday we went to the car show with the sibling in laws. It was fun. Exhausting for the baby and for me. But still fun. Today I just want to stay home, do my chores and not share my family. Except my Dad might come over and that will sort of be a whipping. I mean, I tell both my parents they are welcome to come over any time, and I'm sincere when I say it, but some days I'm less inclined to share than others. Today, I want my family to myself. I secretly hope my Dad decides not to come.

I feel like an old lady these days. My joints hurt something fierce. I've read this is common after having a baby, but still: Standing up and climbing the stairs are more effort than they should be. It makes me feel old. Like I need to take some sort of arthritis medication.

At TGI Friday's yesterday I had two Skinny margaritas. They were delicious. And I think I may have been intoxicated. Those two drinks made me want to lie down and go to sleep. That's what intoxicated looks like for me these days. No more wooo-hooo drunkenness. More like zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

I gave my husband a manicure last night. It included clear nail polish. HAHAHAHAHAHA. I have no idea why he let it go that far, but his nails look so pretty now! One time he let me paint one big toe with colored polish. I think he lets me do these things because the whole time it's happening, I am cracking up. And I found out recently that one of his goals when making me laugh is for me to say: I just peed on myself a little. This has happened more times than I care to count. My husband cracks me up. In fact, I will often crack up days later just thinking about what he did that was funny.

I guess I should stop screwing around on the internet and get to those chores of mine.

Columbus. Cat. Brat.

I love that I'm off for Columbus Day. It's one of those weird bank holidays that sort of sneaks up on you. I don't have anything special planned, just a prenatal appointment and a couple of errands. I might bake some cupcakes or brownies or something. I'm just in that sort of mood lately. I think it's this time of year, during the spring and summer months I don't bake much, but come fall, I find myself looking at food porn and trying to find easy but (what I hope are) yummy treats. I like the Sandra Lee approach, semi-homemade. I like taking something out of a box and tweaking it a little. We'll see if I get inspired to do anything like that today or if the rain will sap all my early morning energy. (Highly likely!)

I've found Jacob (the cat) in the baby's crib twice now. I'm not sure if he's just discovered he can get in there or what, but that crib has been set up for about a month (or more) and neither he or the Old Lady cat have paid it much attention - except to hide underneath it. I have the door closed to the room now but I don't want it to always be that way. I'm hoping that when there is a baby in there making noise and such he won't want to be anywhere near that crib. I could be creating false hope for myself.

Yesterday I was a brat to my husband. He didn't deserve it and told me he didn't appreciate it and he was so right and I was so wrong and I hate it when I disappoint myself in that way. I apologized, he accepted, now I have to let it go, but that is one of the things I have a hard time doing sometimes. Letting myself off the hook and not spending a vast amount of energy trying to make up for my less than perfect behavior. Why can't I just let it go after the apology is accepted? Why must I keep the imperfection in my head and replay it and say mean things to myself inside my head about how I don't deserve this person and that I'm not good enough for him, because seriously, I know logically that is some serious bullshit. When I sit here and write that out I know it's absurd, but there it is nonetheless, pecking at my brain like a bird. Honestly, being pregnant has created an atmosphere for insecurity to breed, and I hate how easily that insecurity slipped in and started roaming around my brain. I do hope that after having the baby some of my confidence returns, that I feel more like myself and less like a big, lumbering, pregnant woman. We'll see. Thankfully we have just a few more weeks to go - if that long!

quitter

I walked out to the garage (also known as The Man Cave because that's where my husband spends time watching TV, smoking cigarettes and fondling all of his tools) and my husband is standing in a way that I know he's thinking about something, pondering something, trying to figure something out. If he were just chilling out, he'd be sitting - but he's standing, facing the wall, clearly working something out in his head. So I sit and ask what's going on, what he's thinking about and he says he's afraid to tell me, that he actually feels anxiety about it. So I inhale and tell him to just let it out - whatever it is. And he does. He wants to quit smoking. That's when I exhale. This is a Very Big Deal and I know it. And I also know that my reaction is important. I have battled my own addictions and I know that many times the first time you say you want to quit will not be the time you actually quit. But he's worried about the feeling in his lungs, he's worried about not being here and honestly, I think he feels like it's just time. He is not putting cigarettes down today, he may not put them down entirely for a while. But what he was pondering and why he was looking at the wall is this: He wants to turn the Man Cave into more of a gym. Buy a fancy weight set and a treadmill for me (we've talked about this since I got pregnant and I love that he included me in this and that I'll have a way to continue to work out right after the baby is born when getting to the gym might be an issue.) and he wants to create an outlet for the anxiety he knows is coming from not smoking. We recently talked about buying new living room couches and instead, he wants to buy gym equipment and I am totally on board with taking the money we set aside for new couches and buying something that will get us off our buts instead of compel us to sit on them. I know that just thinking about quiting makes him nervous. He has smoked for 25 years. Cigarettes are his friend, his companion and yet, they must break up because the relationship is going to kill him and he knows it. He feels it coming. But the thought of not smoking... he needed to find something to do instead and he's wanted a new weight set thing for the house since ... well ... since I've known him, so step one: set up the garage so it's more of a work out space than a hang out and smoke space. I guess I don't even need to mention how happy this makes me. Granted, I smoked (very lightly) until I got pregnant and there are days, especially when my anxiety level is through the roof, that I would LOVE a cigarette. But I don't, because I'm not quite that addicted to smoking so I just wait for the moment to pass and move on. But I know this is going to be hard for him. I also know he's very stubborn and determined and when he sets his mind to something he will find a way to make it work, so I have no doubts that he'll be able to do it. Many times people pull me aside and tell me I should make him quit. Ha. Right. Like all of the nagging in the world is going to make that happen. I just smile and tell them that you can't make someone do anything - especially something like that - and that it's just going to have to be his decision, when he's ready. And this weekend he felt ready to at least say the words out loud. For someone who understands addiction, I understand the power of just saying the words out loud to another human being. Letting them out of your head and into the Universe can be powerful.  I'm realistic, I know this doesn't mean he'll throw them all away right now, but he's laying the ground work, getting ready - mentally - for the challenge of giving up something that he loves for reasons he can't quite articulate. The thing I wanted him to know more than anything was that I understand and that whatever he needs in terms of support, I'm here. I'm in it with him. Always.

Inside Voice

My husband said I complain a lot. This hurt my feelings more than it probably should. I think the most hurtful part is that he said it because he was pissed at me, and I think there was an aim to hurt my feelings. It’s also hurtful because this is probably the way he sees me, as a complainer, and while I do my share of bitching (um, hello, I have an entire blog full of evidence that I can BITCH BITCH BITCH for days.) I wouldn’t call myself someone who complains a lot. At least I don’t see myself that way. And it upsets me that HE sees me that way. It doesn’t matter, really, if I think it’s true. HE thinks it’s true. I don’t even know how to change his perception. I didn’t even ask for examples because I have learned with him that he just may have a list of shit I’ve done piled up inside his head waiting to spill out and I honestly could not deal with it at the time. I did not want to hear the collection of things in his head that have been there for three years. I hate that he does that. I hate that he will save up things and in the middle of a fight about furniture or whatever the fuck, he will bring up something that happened two weeks ago or even worse, recently he brought up something from almost 2 years ago. A thing I can’t even remember to be honest, but there it is, stuck in his memory, clear as day. And honestly, WTF can I do about that 2 years later? Granted, what he remembers is stupid and even he admitted that, and he also admitted that this is what he has done in previous relationships. He’s like Seinfeld, he fixates on one thing and can’t get past it. So to him, this collection of shit that’s wrong with me in his head, is really just his own crazy piling up and he’s done a pretty good job of not letting those little things get in the way of the bigger picture, the bigger picture being our marriage and our life.
The only thing I can do is ask the Universe to show me where I’m complaining so that I can correct the behavior, because honestly, I don’t see it in myself, but maybe it’s there and I’m just not looking. I think I’ve stopped looking at myself, a product of no therapy, no meetings, limited time with my BFF and no writing. I’m going to start putting my thoughts on paper more, getting some of this stuff outside of my head and not talk to my husband about every little thing that’s happening with me right now, because being pregnant, I notice and comment on EVERYTHING and maybe that’s where he sees complaining. To me, I’m just making random observations but maybe to him it sounds like bitching. One time in therapy I was told that I’m a negative person and I set out to work on that – which I think I did with success – but maybe I’m slipping backwards, or maybe what I say (or how I sound when I say it) doesn’t match what I feel inside and THAT is not something new. That has been something I’ve struggled with before. Where my tone or inflection makes me sound one way when that isn’t how I feel on the inside. Maybe somewhere along the way I let things get disconnected, maybe I’ve lost touch with my inside voice.