This is not going to go down as the highlight month of our married life. Definitely not. I have a much, much younger and obviously wiser friend who already knows you never marry the right one. Because that is not the point. Marriage is to make you the "right one." And it is here that I wish I had the link to that article my friend shared, but I don't. But I bet you could google it and find it out. And I bet you could google how to save a marriage and not one time would can openers come up. Not once.
And I would think by now (year 17), I would get it and obviously I hope he does. But I am not sure if either one ever gets it. Even after 50 years. Marriage is about becoming who you were meant to be and hopefully undoing who you were or were about to be. Hopefully.
So it is April something. That is how out of sorts I am. I can not even remember today's date. That is also how overly stressed I am. And to be honest, when I write it all down, it causes me to pause. And to say to myself, "Really? Get over your self." But life is crazy at times and we are human and we do become overwhelmed and forget who we are and at least on better days are trying to be.
April something and he would know exactly how many baseball games we have played already. To me, it seems like July already, but it is not. We are just getting started. And I can at least be thankful for the first time since my son picked up a bat, my trunk is baseball ready and so is my back porch. And I am stocked up on sunscreen, sunflower seeds and Gatorade. This is a huge accomplishment for me.
My garbage disposal is broken. It is driving me crazy. But it will be repaired early next week. My bathtub does not hold water and it has not for about five years now and for reasons beyond my comprehension this has pushed me over the edge this week.
My cat is on a vindictive pooping spree. She is also stalking me at night but that is another problem all together.
Middle schoolers just will not talk to you about really important stuff. Like that they have decided to quit wearing cups to baseball games because their cup underwear doesn't fit. Like that their regular underwear doesn't fit. Like that none of their shorts fit either. My son will ask me deep theological questions but will never tell me he needs new cup underwear...nope...not until it is a crisis.And no, middle school boys do not understand that protecting the family jewels is of paramount importance. Somehow, I the mom am suppose to receive this information via visions at night or something.
His cell phone was stolen last week and much to my surprise...that insurance they try to talk you into at the cell phone pirate store is really worth it...The cell phone pirates are in control of our mass communication ability, and yes it is highway robbery, and I really believe they are violating some monopoly laws, and I can not believe we as consumers are allowing this...but they do own the all ships...And here's the thing, I yelled at the cell phone pirate today and told him to his face I really thought he was lying to me and I could not believe that his company could even keep customers...and I hoped I never had to be his nurse. His response, he just smiled even bigger. And the replacement phone was still going to cost me 400 dollars. He didn't even bat an eye. So I call Vance and yelled at him for not buying cell phone insurance. Who knew? Obviously, not us. I did learn one thing...most reasonable people always back down when I rant...always. I have even been told after one of my rants was witnessed in a small town in Georgia over a smoking vs non smoking room...that they hoped never to be on my bad side. I am that bad when I rant. That bad. But obviously not bad enough for the cell phone pirate.
Saturday I was beyond mad at my husband for trying to tell me, who works in Winston Salem, and has already been to every sporting goods store in Winston Salem, looking for adult small white without a stripe baseball pants, that he who works in Greensboro and drives past Grahams everyday has not had time to stop in and buy pants. I hung up on him. Davis even said in a hushed voice, "Did you just hang up on Dad?" Yep. By the way, the pants were picked up today.
And I almost completely lost it when he implied I had more time than him because I have days off during the week. Word to the wise here. Never tell a nurse who works at any hospital on any shift and covers holidays just how much time and how nice it is that she has days off in the week. Never tell her that unless you want to pull back a nub. Nurses, next to nurse aides and residents and our military, are the most exhausted professionals I know, hands down. No contest. Period.
Tomorrow at 9 am I get to visit my dentist again and here I am at 10 pm already plotting several reasonable excuses as to why I could live with a temporary crown for the rest of my natural life.
My kitchen floor resembles home plate after 9 batters have been up. It is that dirty. And I, unlike the plate umpire, do not have a brush strapped around my waist to brush all the dirt away.
The only thing edible in my refrigerator is milk, carrots, four strawberries, coleslaw and hot dog chili. Oh, I do have some cheese that is growing penicillin and butter.
I have poison ivy. Every spring I get it. Every single one. Before I see the dentist tomorrow, I will be sitting at the CVS mini clinic getting a dose pack. And no, this will not improve my stress level.
We tried to have a date night Friday but the movie was so horrible we both went to bed mad that we actually spent 1.20 on it and had to return to Redbox. It belonged in the trash and Redbox should pay us to watch it.
The mildew on my shower now has its own complex pattern this is beginning to resemble zenderlings.
School is driving me crazy and I do not recommend returning at mid life to anyone is about to get the best of me.
My DAD thinks my yard is out of control. That is bad.
My hip is killing me. And when I will I realize I am not 20 anymore? And my stomach is hurting because I am chewing up that much ibuprofen.
And I feel like because we are so busy, that at best Vance and I are distant roomates.
I know part of the reason for my distress and I know the solution. And it is here I am not participating in my own recovery. And I would think by now in my adult life I would have memorized the definition for insanity....Repeating the same behavior hoping for different results. I have not learned yet that over committed, over planned, over scheduled, over extended lives never, ever work and are not conducive to relationships. Ever. Period.
And this is why we are fighting and I still don't get it...after all this time....we are not taking 5 minutes a day to connect.
But today instead of flowers he brought me a can opener. A can opener. My can opener has been broken for about 3 weeks now and when I sent him to the store at 9 pm tonight, he brought back besides everything we needed....A CAN OPENER...
And this is why, even at worst, marriage is always worth it. Even when you feel they don't hear you, even when you feel they are responsible for your happiness (and they are not), even when you feel they are acting like a total creep, even when they do not respond to your every whim (and who does), even when they leave their socks on the floor, even when they don't make the bed, even when they forget to thank you for dinner,
it is always worth it...
because nothing says I love you like a can opener...
Always remember to see the best in your partner, not the worst, always remember why you loved them in the first place, always say you are sorry...and always remember the day he bought you a can opener.
Grateful for husbands, can openers, wind, baseball pants, new bats finally arriving and stolen cell phones.
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