Picture this: I'm relaxing downstairs in the living room while Dr. Husband is upstairs, giving Short One a bath. Said child was probably 18 months old or so at the time, so Wee One wasn't born yet. I'm idly watching television and sort of hearing the goings-on upstairs through the baby monitor in the room, but not really paying attention because hey, I'm not up there. It's HIS job tonight.
Suddenly, I hear the beginnings of noise that make the goings-on sound like they're turning into a bona-fide throughother. Short One is objecting to his father's opinion that bath time is over. I can hear Dr. Husband doing his best to reason with the boy, but it's not working. Yeah, I'm paying attention now, but only because it's making me giggle helplessly.
Finally, the inevitable happens: Dr. Husband has decided reasoning with an 18-month-old isn't working (men are so cute how they'll try and try and try), so he lifts the child out of the tub. Short One is wet and slippery, and is also throwing a full-blown tantrum, complete with twisting and turning. At this point, my husband says, "Short One, I wouldn't put you back in this tub right now if you were ON FIRE!"
And then he notices my bellows of laughter from the living room and remembers that the baby monitor is still on. Yeah...that was fun :)
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Can positive thinking kill a marriage?
So...hi. I'm starting this blog to try and keep myself sane. Not sure it's going to work yet, but maybe someone else out there can talk me down off the high place (figuratively, folks -- only figuratively, I promise). And then maybe I'll do the same for you.
I'll have been married 17 years this coming fall, and over those years, we've had mostly crap luck. The current mess we're going through has to do with trying to sell a house in a not-so-desirable-area of town and in a crappy housing market to boot. We're closing in on the end of two summers trying to sell now, and I think I have to accept that it's not going to happen. Why do we have to sell, you ask? Well, because my husband has a job that's about 100 miles away. That means about $800/month in gasoline, ladies and gentlemen. Say that with me, why don't you...$800 PER MONTH. Crap, it's nearly a house payment.
And....thanks to our crap luck, I'm doing what I do best: bitch at my husband. And he bitches right back, except his form of bitching means calling himself a failure and talking himself down until I feel like pond scum for daring to bring up the fact that it's JULY now and if we're going to short-sale this friggin' house, we'd better get a move on doing it or we'll be stuck here for yet ANOTHER year.
I hope I'm not in this alone. And I'm trying to think positive and tell myself that things can't stay like this forever and that we love each other and I should just let him handle it because he IS good at it....except I'm afraid he isn't. We're in a moderately poor financial state, even though his job is very, very good -- but we're trying to recover from years of debt incurred by the past loss of a job and trying to get a PhD while also having a wife and two kids. But if I leave things alone and think positive, nothing happens. If I talk to him about it, he automatically reads it as 'bitching'...but at least he gets his can in gear after a huge, blow-up fight. Which ends with both of us leaving each other alone.
Shit. If I wanted a roommate, I'd have stayed on campus for the rest of my life.
I'll have been married 17 years this coming fall, and over those years, we've had mostly crap luck. The current mess we're going through has to do with trying to sell a house in a not-so-desirable-area of town and in a crappy housing market to boot. We're closing in on the end of two summers trying to sell now, and I think I have to accept that it's not going to happen. Why do we have to sell, you ask? Well, because my husband has a job that's about 100 miles away. That means about $800/month in gasoline, ladies and gentlemen. Say that with me, why don't you...$800 PER MONTH. Crap, it's nearly a house payment.
And....thanks to our crap luck, I'm doing what I do best: bitch at my husband. And he bitches right back, except his form of bitching means calling himself a failure and talking himself down until I feel like pond scum for daring to bring up the fact that it's JULY now and if we're going to short-sale this friggin' house, we'd better get a move on doing it or we'll be stuck here for yet ANOTHER year.
I hope I'm not in this alone. And I'm trying to think positive and tell myself that things can't stay like this forever and that we love each other and I should just let him handle it because he IS good at it....except I'm afraid he isn't. We're in a moderately poor financial state, even though his job is very, very good -- but we're trying to recover from years of debt incurred by the past loss of a job and trying to get a PhD while also having a wife and two kids. But if I leave things alone and think positive, nothing happens. If I talk to him about it, he automatically reads it as 'bitching'...but at least he gets his can in gear after a huge, blow-up fight. Which ends with both of us leaving each other alone.
Shit. If I wanted a roommate, I'd have stayed on campus for the rest of my life.
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