Category: Marriage


There Are Days

June 2nd, 2008 — 8:50pm

There are days when your kitchen sink develops a clog and it’s a holiday weekend and 35 people are coming to your house so you run back and forth to use the guest bathroom sink while preparing the food for said guests–ignoring the fact that you will have no way to clean up after them when they leave at 3:00 a.m.

There are days when you read her and you almost wet your pants because holy crap is she funny, but then you secretly plot to steal her brain because you know you’ll never be that funny, but then you secretly thank the goddess of discount designer shoes that she walks this planet at the same time you do.

There are days when your six year-old mumbles the word “evaporate” as he’s drifting off to sleep so he can commit the new word to memory and your heart just explodes with pride, but then you remember five minutes earlier he was telling you about the “masagna” he had for dinner and you decide that he might not get that Nobel after all.

There are days when you don’t think your blogging is ever going to amount to much and then you get invited to this super-swanky, invite-only reception for the premiere of a new movie and you decide that you might not abandon your blog after all, until you get to the super-swanky, invite-only party and they play Kung Fu Fighting over and over and over again for two hours straight and there is no alcohol, so you decide that the party was secretly a punishment and you were invited because your blog sucks big black licorice-flavored turds.

There are days when your friend complains over email about all the traveling they must do over the summer and your inner bitch can be silenced no more so she sends a snide reply suggesting that the person have a terrific summer and contact her when they actually want to talk, but then your bitch rethinks her rudeness and cancels the reply before it’s sent. Still feeling pissy after the original reply is discarded, the bitch decides to send one anyway–just a bit snarkier this time–only to realize once that one is gone that they were both sent and now you just look like an idiot.

There are days when you can feel the scream begin deep in your stomach and as it rises you know that if you don’t figure out soon what your purpose in life is there is no way you’re going to prevent that scream from deafening those around you so you decide to tell your husband about it and he suggests you quash it by getting up earlier in the morning to make your children pancakes.

There are days you don’t kill your husband.

There are days when you are little and you think it would be cool to have a retainer or a cast or something neato like that and then you grow up and you trip on the sidewalk because apparently a single step down can be dicey terrain to negotiate and you break your ankle and you get a cast and then the cast comes off and your ankle still doesn’t heal and then you want to remove your leg at the knee and use the separated appendage to knock your orthopedist silly until he fixes you enough so that you can wear flip flops again, because damn it’s finally flip flop weather.

Yep. There are days.

23 comments » | blog reviews, Blogging Friends, Marriage, Motherhood, random thoughts, The Cool People

The Post I Might Delete Later

March 8th, 2008 — 9:50pm

I’m in a really bad mood. Lately, I haven’t posted when this happens because I worry what I might say when I do. Too many people I care about stop by here on occasion and I don’t want them to fret over me.

But today I remembered that my attraction to writing developed during my teen years as a way to get the thoughts out of my head. As a fairly outgoing person, you might be surprised by the size of the crowd and level of volume that can be reached in my brain.

I don’t hear voices per se (cause damn if I did they might have answers), but rather have conversations with myself–constantly.

So back in those hormone-filled days of angst, I often wrote letters to people as a way to say the things I didn’t feel I could say/or didn’t have the opportunity to say in person. I never sent the letters. I don’t remember burning any of them. Who knows? My mom could be sitting on a stack of them right now waiting for the perfect time to embarrass the crap out of me. The letters didn’t necessarily make me feel any better, but they seemed to quiet the sounds that prevented me from noticing the rest of the world and moving on.

Like many bloggers I know, I do keep a private blog where, to this day, I still write letters. Interestingly, putting my thoughts out there feels safer than recording them in a journal that someone might happen upon. There is further irony to that blog, but for now I’ll enjoy that by myself.

Do you have a place you write that is separate from your public blog? Are there topics that you only cover there?

As I wander through the blogosphere I read about a vast number of topics that are finally seeing the light of day. Moms are opening up about topics ranging from sex to the trials of PPD. Women are discussing the frustration and heartbreak of infertility. People of all walks of life are sharing the trials of serious illness, depression, racism, bullying, addiction, the death of loved ones and abuse. These brave people are sharing a part of themselves in a way that allows the rest of us to not feel so alone in the world. In my mind, they are the pillars of the social networking community.

What I’ve noticed though is that there seems to be one topic that remains fairly off limits (unless addressed anonymously). I understand why. Many people have discussed their reasons for not talking about it. I see this in my real life friendships too.

I just have to ask though…when will we all stop pretending like marriage is easy??

52 comments » | Marriage, TMI, Writing

The Quotable Men in My Life

December 3rd, 2007 — 12:31am

Mr. 3 after falling off the bench in the kitchen last night:

The Dad: Are you okay? What did you hit?
Mr. 3: The floor

Mr. 5 sitting next to me on the couch:

Mr. 5: I just farted.
Me: What are you supposed to say?
Mr. 5: It stinks.

Mr. 11 calling me at 6:30 p.m. while I’m in Target–and it’s raining outside:

Me: Hello?
Mr. 11: Mom, it’s me. Have you seen my shoes?
Me: Um? Not since this morning. I’m at Target.
Mr. 11: I can’t find my shoes.
Me: Did you look around? Did you look in my room?
Mr. 11: I can’t find them anywhere! I don’t know where they are.
Me: It’s raining outside and dark. You don’t need them right now do you?
Mr. 11: I’ve looked everywhere. I can’t find them. Moooom…
Me: I can’t do much about it right now. I’m at Target.
Mr. 11: Well! I can’t find my shoes. I’m not going to be able to go to school tomorrow.

Friday night me and the hubs got a little time to ourselves. It was late. We tried to start something, but we just couldn’t–um–finish. I got a little upset, but I was so tired I fell asleep. I then woke up to the sound of the hubs dry heaving in the bathroom–bad sour cream we think.

The next day…

Me: Do we need to talk about last night?
Hubs: Um.
Me: Is there something wrong? Is our sex life over?
Hubs: No. No.
Me: Was it because you felt so bad?
Hubs: Yeah, that sour cream killed me.
Me: Well why didn’t you tell me to stop?
Hubs: I didn’t want to say “Hey babe I gotta stop I think I’m going to throw up.”
Me: Awww. You wanted to save my ego?

Am I a lucky girl to be living with these four guys or what??

18 comments » | Living with Boys, Marriage, Motherhood

Mawiage

November 29th, 2007 — 8:36pm

I want to run away from home. RIGHT NOW!

Everyone in my house is deaf. That might be because none of them has stopped whining long enough to give their eardrums an opportunity to stop reverberating in their own heads.

There are three TVs on at the same time and husband is being pissy because I didn’t get the right frickin sour cream.

Yes. Sour cream.

He NEEDS the fat-free kind. So badly apparently that he just left for the grocery store even though I just returned from there.

Pray for him that he doesn’t run out of gas or break down between here and there, because it’s fairly unlikely that I’d go get him–at least right away.

20 comments » | Marriage

Why Didn’t You Tell Me?

November 27th, 2007 — 10:44pm

Or maybe I missed it.

I just lost one hour and forty minutes of my life that I can never get back.

I just watched Knocked Up.

Sure there were some funny lines, but really?

Katherine Heigl and that curly-haired dude had NO chemistry. And the woman who played the sister? Oh and Paul Rudd. Paul Rudd. What happened? Did Hollywood run out of cute boyfriend roles for you? You’re stuck playing the dopey husband now?

I know I’m late to the party with this review, but give me a break. I don’t get out to the movies much right now. And thank the goddess of discount boutique shoes, because holychristonacracker this movie would have been a GIANT waste of my money.

The great part about all of it though? My husband sat and wasted his whole evening with me watching it. And we ordered in dinner. It was a veritable date night on a Tuesday.

And last night I was compelled to sweep the floor before I went to bed.

Yep, the devil’s shopping for a parka.

12 comments » | house keeping, Marriage, Movies

The Man is Obviously Worried About Retirement

October 11th, 2007 — 10:50am

Dad’s at it again.

Hi there Son,

I am forwarding to you an Email with an article from the NY Times on MADONNA, who is reported to be leaving Warner Brothers for Live Nation, the concert promoter–if it goes through she gets $100 mil, with the first $50 mil to be paid up front. Now this is not as good as the $500 mil that comes with Rachel, but it’ll be OK, it’ll keep the corporate jet manned and in fuel, and you probably will be able to quit your day job.

You have to admit Madonna is a whole different scene from properly prepared pasta, and you may not have enough energy to accompany her on ALL concert tours, but the benefits would seem enough to grit your teeth and bear it. She is, admittedly, a little old (turns 50 next year), but I would suspect you wouldn’t notice it with those intense lights and loud music all the time.

Now, as your father, I would far prefer Rachel, because I can hardly muster the energy to get through a whole Madonna set, whereas my appreciation for Italian food has no discernible limits. I would however stifle myself and my reservations if you and Madonna were hitting it off and having fun–fathers often have to make such major concessions for their children.

It does seem that your status as a rocket scientist would make you very attractive to Madonna, since she and her group may be fairly high much of the time. So ask her out–if she accuses you of only being after her money say no, that’s my father–then she will respect you as a hottie and my interest as something she intuitively and favorably relates to, part of a business deal (she needn’t know how expensive Jean and I can be….). OK, so this is to show again that we have always your best interests at heart,

Lotsa love, Dad

Of course I had to be the one to break it to Dad that she’s married and totally into the whole healthy living thing. Poor man. He just wants one ridiculously wealthy child–even if he needs to pimp his one and only son out to get one.

22 comments » | Family, Love, Madonna, Marriage, Parents, Rachel Ray

Brother for Sale

September 26th, 2007 — 9:27am

From the same guy who brought us this, I submit the email my brother received today (and which we as his sisters were carbon copied).

Hi there Son,

I was in the grocery store line yesterday looking over the magazines for gossip, and there in that inimitable publication “The National Enquirer” was the news that Rachel Ray is getting divorced–is she a great prospect, or WHAT!!

Her husband–soon to be ex–is asking for the modest sum of $500 million for settlement, so you can detect that she can easily absorb the cost of a wedding. So CALL HER UP, and ASK HER OUT–I suspect it’s been some time since she dated a rocket scientist*, so she should be receptive, even enthusiastic.

An aside, in case you don’t know about Rachel, she is a young (?30-35) woman who has at least one (perhaps two) TV cooking shows, has written books on Italian cooking, travels the world doing feature shows on cooking in different countries and is very attractive, personable, and engaging. Her only possible weakness is that I have never seen her demonstrate compelling cookie cooking skills, an imperative–nay, mandatory–cooking strength. (This is not important since we can all help her with the cookies if she becomes part of the family–Hee-Hee.)

After all, sons-in-law are terrific, but really all they do is work and get fed and grumble that it’s time to go. What we need in the Hurst family is a prospective daughter-in-law immersed in a long (but formal) engagement to keep her alert as to how best to please her aging prospective father-in-law. The occasional dutiful hug and kiss is fine, but we’re talking ITALIAN COOKING here, and LOTSA dough for pasta AND travel expenses.

In addition to your status as a rocket scientist, I think you could also truly capture her interest if you told her your spaghetti sauce is better than hers–and then if neither of you are impressed after the first few dates you could at least get some wonderful recipes… While I have not consulted everyone, I am certain the remainder of the family joins me in this recommendation with the same unbridled enthusiasm.

Lotsa love, your old Dad

So then I asked dear old Dad if I could post his letter on my blog and here was his response:

Amie, glad you liked it, I think we all have to join to keep steady gentle pressure on such a timid family member. Of course you can post it on your blog, and I don’t care about the whether you use my name or not–however, perhaps you should use your brother’s name AND Email, since with such a blog as you manage he might turn up a whole HOST of prospects–all of us know that NOTHING gets the attention of Moms more than a stray single male… Lotsa love, Dad

I’m thinking he might want my brother to settle down. Any funny, cool, athletic, nice, women in the greater Houston, TX area want a date with a handsome 40 year-old NASA scientist??

And apparently, my dad would also prefer it if you were a good cook.

*in the spirit of semi-disclosure, my dear brother is involved in space medicine.

23 comments » | Family, Funny, Marriage

She Disappeared

May 31st, 2007 — 9:42pm

She was the temporarily single mom of theree boys. Not all of them were in school, yet none of them napped any longer. And it was a holiday weekend.

As she stepped into the shower on Tuesday, she couldn’t recall if she had managed to squeeze one in since her amazingly wonderul saint of a husband (because he eventually returned) had left in the dawning light of Friday morning.

She was gross.

She could remember haircuts for all the boys, a trip to Sephora with all the boys (stupid, stupid woman), baseball games, baseball practices, trips to the grocery store, hours at the pool and cleaning, but she couldn’t remember a shower.

It must not have occured (gross).

When she massaged the shampoo into her hair no suds formed. “Yeah, that’s dirty,” she thought. Another glob of shampoo and the thoughts too soon washed away as she enjoyed the warm water.

And the quiet.

And being alone.

And being clean.

CRASH! The bathroom door slams open. “Hi Mom!” Well that seven minutes of silence is over.

As she toweled off she considered the options for greeting her husband upon his return that evening. She narrowed it down to two.

1. Immediately drop to her knees and give him the best blow job of gratitude she could muster.

or

2. Greet him with a big hug and a kiss and never let on that he really could do ANYTHING as long as he never permanently left her by herself with three young boys.

She figured #2 was the smarter option, since she’d needed to maintain some leverage. But he did get some play the next morning.

********************************************

I bend to my knees in pious admiration to all of you single parents, though I won’t be including oral sex with it.

Sorry.

23 comments » | Living with Boys, Marriage, Motherhood

Have You Hugged Your MILF Today?

March 9th, 2007 — 9:29pm

Lovely comments abound from men of a certain age (older than 35?) admitting that they like their women with a little meat on them. What sweet, sweet music to my ears.

You see I have no aspirations of being rail thin. I’d be happy for “in shape.” Pursuing heroin chic for me would be like searching for the end of a rainbow. I was blessed with curves, that for once in my life, I actually don’t want to lose completely. I’m happy to look like a woman. Though yet another cruel joke of nature is that some of those “curves” tend to be the first things to disappear when I do lose weight. And that’s sad, because I’ve loved reading those Ds on the bra tags for the first time in my life.

Anyway, I had a good week. Ate healthy. Stuck to my plan. No snacks. No sugar.

I’ll be hopping of the wagon for a brief time at the end of next week, because no one can really expect me to go to New Orleans and not enjoy the best part about the city–THE INCREDIBLE FOOD.

Did I mention I’m going to New Orleans next week?! I’m going to New Orleans next weekend for a long weekend!

I am so excited! Went to school there. Haven’t been back for years. This will be the first trip there together for me and Shakey. The first time we’ve gone away alone with each other in seven (yes, I said SEVEN) years. Cue Marvin Gaye’s “Let’s Get it On.” Oh yeah, and there will be basketball–first and second round of the NCAA Men’s Basketball Tournament.

New Orleans, basketball, food and sex…don’t hate me!

5 comments » | Marriage, MILFdom, Sex, Travel

Mr. Yuck is Miss Nice

January 2nd, 2007 — 9:54pm

Those people at poison control are quite friendly. You know how I know? Oh because I almost caused Shakey to OD on painkillers this weekend.

Can you say GUILT?!

Yeah, so neither of us are big pain reliever imbibers and therefore most of the bottles of Tylenol in our house are expired. Shakey thinks you can still use them, but I tend to disagree–it’s one of our ongoing “discussions.” Anyway as I bitched about described in a recent post already Shakey is currently suffering from Hand, Foot, Mouth which is causing him to experience tremendously painful (like giving birth I’m sure) sores in his mouth and he’s required some relief (really, I do feel bad for him).

When we ran out of the only unexpired bottle of Tylenol over the weekend I turned up a bottle of CVS brand “Pain Relief” tablets in the bottom of some bag. Lo and behold they were still good so I looked at the milligrams per tablet, saw that they were 220 each and thought that was a bit odd but shook out three and handed them to him every six hours like they do at the hospital. And Shakey slept…for two days.

I thought he might be taking the whole being sick thing a little far, but who was I to complain since he’d just a super-trooper through my strep (did I just use the term super-trooper?). Well this morning he woke up! And for some reason he read the fine print–okay directions–on the little pain relief tablet bottle and guess what! It wasn’t ibuprofen. It was naproxen…and you’re only supposed to take one tablet every 12 hours and no more than three in a 24 hour period.

He was feeling much better this morning so we went about our day, though it crossed my mind a time or two to see if Hallmark makes a “Sorry I almost offed you honey” card. Midday, however, he started experiencing a number of the overdose symptoms listed on the web, so I called our family nurse (my sister-in-law) for advice. Not wanting to appear to relieve me of any guilt should the case go to trial, she directed me to poison control–or so that’s what they do in the ER she said. And that’s how I ended up on the phone with the lovely Tina at poison control this evening.

Tina was so reassuring, let me know that naproxen was probably the safest pain reliever to overdose and told me that Shakey’s symptoms shouldn’t cause us any alarm. She even asked for our name and number so she could call us back tomorrow to check in on us. Shakey piped up that she was just adding me to their spousal abuse registry–she laughed and said yeah she was. A sense of humor and the willingness to relieve me of the guilt of nearlly accidently poisoning my husband. What a woman!!

So next time you fail at offing your husband try to make your honey feel better in his time of need, remember you can over do it…but poison control is there–and they’re so nice–though apparently they’re not using Mr. Yuck anymore.

6 comments » | Marriage

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