Yes my family and friends read this blog. For this reason, I protect some of my posts with a password. This might lead one to wonder why I bother writing something if I don’t want anyone else to read it. I wonder that myself. The problem with this set up is that sometimes I don’t write exactly how I feel, because that has caused and would continue to cause hurt feelings.
Text is very flat; there isn’t any emotion attached to it, and of course no facial expressions either. Misinterpretation is enough of a problem face-to-face, nevermind in written form. I try to maintain a healthy balance between tact and brutal honesty; interesting vs. inflammatory and meriting further discussion/damage control; a window into my thoughts of the moment vs. concern for my mental health.
This morning I walked my large dog along with my son and his dog that he has at his dad’s house. We are a modern family, for we are dogsitting my ex-husband’s dog while ex-husband is away on vacation. Anyhoo, boy midget and I often have discussions during these walks, during which I attempt valiantly to impart some wisdom gained through my many mistakes throughout my maturing process. These conversations emerge organically. Today we walked and talked about the idea of boyfriends & girlfriends (or boyfriend & boyfriend/girlfriend & girlfriend) moving in together instead of getting married. I said it’s important not to move in together unless you are getting married, because living together creates complacency, and then you end up getting married because you have been together a long time and so it feels like the next logical step ‘forward.’ Marriage isn’t always a step forward for cohabiting couples.
When you live together without being married, you overlook major flaws and conflicts that need to be examined (when you live together as a married couple, it’s imperative that you overlook minor flaws). It’s difficult to move out after having moved in: logistically; emotionally; logically even. It doesn’t make sense, if you are continuing the relationship, that one party would move out.
When I was dating Husband, he moved in with me. I know, I know! I had previously sworn off cohabitation, but I was in love and this seemed like the right thing to do. About 6 months later though, I decided we should not be living together and so he moved out. This was really hard on all of us, and felt like a step backward. It wasn’t though. By forcing him to get his own place, he couldn’t hide from his issues anymore, and neither could I. We each had to face our weak spots, our chinks in our armour, without the protective umbrella of domesticity and all that that entails. We still spent plenty of time together, but healthy boundaries were drawn. Independence was preserved without any hurt feelings or negotiation. Cohabitation, to me, seems like a half-measure and can be chalked up to convenience if a less-than-committed person is backed into a corner during a ‘Where this relationship is going?’ conversation.
Boy midget and I also talked about listening to one’s inner voice, no matter how much external pressure you are receiving from others. Even boy midget sees that if you have any doubts about the marriage before hand, you should definitely not go through with it. Alas, he has never been in love, and his life is so black and white at his age. I just hope he continues to listen to himself as he gets older. I will be there to prompt him as much as possible.
Boy midget is turning into a sullen, defensive, slovenly teen boy. I mostly don’t notice unless other people are around. I mostly let him be, and ask for his help when I need it. I know he needs to go through this phase, and I hope we can all emerge unscathed in a few years. As for girl midget, I’m scared. Yes she is a sweet 11-yr old, but I just watched Uncle Buck over the holidays. If that teen girl doesn’t give you raisin bag, you’re not watching closely enough.
Don’t ask me to contribute to a charity. Have I mentioned that I have offspring, a home, and dogs to maintain? I feel like charities are getting more needy, but my salary is shrinking (no cost-of-living increase for, oh, 7 years now), and I feel more put upon now than ever before. Also, is it wrong of me to think charities need to focus a bit more on our fellow countrymen? I see adults and children alike, on a regular basis, who need help.
Don’t ask me what’s wrong. I wouldn’t know where to start, because I don’t know exactly what’s causing me to look sad. Let’s just leave it at that for now.
Don’t ask if I want another glass of red. Duh.
Don’t ask me how I will tell my tenants we are going to sell that house next year. I haven’t figured that out yet. If I tell them it’s because of our 7-year plan, they will probably be angry for us being callous (even though it’s my house to do with as I see fit). I need to strike just the right tone between nice/apologetic and resolute/firm.
Don’t act surprised when I get pissed about having asked you to participate in a Christmas ritual that you thought was unimportant and so didn’t join in. It’s all important. It just is, and I can’t believe these traditions are so important to me. This actually pisses me off more than anything else, because I never thought I was the traditional type. Gah.
P.S. While putting together the nativity scene at home, I convinced girl midget that pregnant Mary broke up with God to be with Joseph. Such scandal! Yes I cleared it up later. If you can’t have fun with your own midgets, why did you have any in the first place? Mine still think kids aren’t allowed in Las Vegas.
Merry Christmas etc etc etc.
I really need a glass of red right now. Hmmmm. Hard to believe I sort of gave up alcohol about a year ago. Luckily I am not an alcoholic (I swear) and it doesn’t run in my family. Is that really a thing? My dad smoked cigarettes like crazy from age 12 until he keeled over at 55. So obvs he had an addiction problem. Can one inherit cross-addiction? There’s a lot of controversy about alcoholism being a ‘disease’ too. Happily, I don’t have to worry about that for myself.
I also need to think about tonight’s dinner for my family, I guess? I guess.
I’m not exactly grumpy. I’m just not chipper. And that’s not allowed this week.
I need to head out later to do a little more grocery gathering, mostly drinks and vegetables. Surprisingly, everything else is covered. I even finished buying stocking items today. Yes I did!
With all the presents dealt with (just 1 more to wrap, all else is done, wowee I’m amazing), my worries move on to food. What I’m making, when I’m making it, and how the hell am I going to make it through? I might cry.
I looked at a photo album last night of pictures from my childhood. Most of the pics were of birthdays, thanksgiving and Christmas. My mother is not usually in the pictures, of course, because she was always cooking/cleaning/accommodating guests/making everything perfect. Not that we didn’t help, because we definitely did, but putting on a dinner is a huge deal. Duh.
Ok, fine, I’m putting on my boots and going out yet again. I need hemp powder too, for my smoothies.
HFS I am tired of cooking for my kids. Tonight I made a fragrant rice and lentils dish, with toasted nuts on top and some mixed veg on the side. Boy midget tried it and ate most of the plate I gave him, after he told me it needed salt (fine) and the veg weren’t cooked enough (false). At least he ate it? Girl midget sampled a tiny bit, and declared she didn’t like it. I told her that she can now make her own dinners. I meant it, too.
Do I love:
- looking in our pantry and fridge to see what we have; and
- search through my recipe books and online to see what I can make from what we have; and
- preparing an often unfamiliar recipe that I think my kids will eat; and
- cleaning up the kitchen afterward while raging because my midgets are ridiculous?
Do they think I choose foods on purpose that they won’t like?
They definitely know I don’t like to cook. I’ve made that crystal clear, that I don’t like cooking at the best of times, and especially not when the food I prepare doesn’t get eaten. Why would I like it when people make me work? For no good reason? To what end? Grrrrr.
All of this is happening and Christmas is coming too; traditionally a time when I prepare a lot of foods in anticipation of receiving a crowd. Well, this year I feel pretty crappy about my prospects! So I do believe I will be purchasing a lot of foods, and the ones I d o make, I will make them for myself, Husband, and other guests. My midgets can suck it.
Last week, in a mood of omg-if-these-gd kids-don’t-start-picking-up-I’m-going-to-scream and am-I-the-only-person-here-who-likes-things-neat, I used a bad word to ask boy midget if the coat I saw on the floor was his. I lost my cool because he dumps his @#$%ing coat on the floor every damn day even though there is a plethora of hooks on the wall RIGHT BESIDE WHERE HE DUMPS HIS COAT. This kid is the biggest slacker in terms of personal hygiene and taking care of his belongings, and you’d think, given his screen time, that he is a poor student as well. Happily, I’m wrong about that last attribute, for he is a very good student with very good grades, especially in math and science.
I’ve never shied away from using swear words in front of my kids, and they have nearly always understood that these words are for me to use, as a tax-paying adult, and not them. When they move out of my house and start taking care of their own lives all by themselves? Go ahead and teach me some new words. I watched an episode of Deadwood and I was really surprised at the banality of the curse words. Have these words been around since the wild west? I’ve never watched the series Rome, but I’m told the curse words are really different from modern-day, and quite creative as well.
Boy midget actually chided me for my language, albeit gently. I told him if he starts hanging up his coat like a good citizen should, I will stop using that word.