Nap libs

I believe that there are many appropriate uses for my blog: entertainment, musings, politics, professional endeavors.  One use I find unacceptable, in part for the permanence of ravings on these interwebs and in part based in a basic sense of decorum, is to air the dirty laundry or the unabated joy of my marriage. (There isn’t much of the dirty, since Spouse is in charge of laundry, which is washed and dried relatively quickly. Left to wrinkle in the dryer or crammed haphazardly in cupboards, but who am I to judge, since I haven’t done laundry in ten years?)

Anyway, I figured that the things I need to say, whether cloyingly sweet or ragingly angry, are more useful to you if you can play along and find either relevance to your own relationships or find amusement in my refusal to commit to strong language…nay, any language whatsoever.

So here you go. My version of Mad Libs, a special edition just for this week in my marriage.

Oh, my  [ noun ]. My significant other is being a(n) [ adjective ] [ noun ] this week.  In fact, this [ adjective ] [ noun ] is off-the-charts impressive. Not only do my [ plural noun ] not seem to [ verb ] to my partner, but [ pronoun, possessive ] [ noun ] is about as [ adjective ] as I’ve ever seen.  It’s terrific timing, of course. We have a(n) [ adjective ] [ noun ] and a(n) [ adjective ] [ noun ] to deal with, I’m recovering slowly from a rough birth, and this is when my life partner feels it [ adjective ] to have a(n) [ adjective ] [ noun ].  After many long discussions, [ pronoun ] [ verb, past tense]  my opinion and our family’s needs and [ verb, past tense ] a(n) [ adjective ] [ noun ] of [ noun ] on a [ expletive ] [ noun ].  But even that hasn’t [ verb, past tense ]. [ Pronoun ] is being a(n) [ adjective ] [ noun ], really, [ verb, active participle ] my needs and our children’s needs to [ verb ] on the [ noun ],  [ verb, active participle ] about some [ adjective ] [ noun ] that, granted, my dear one is responsible for, but now [ pronoun] is [ verb, active participle ] time verb, active participle ] the real jobs around the house and in our lives.

What a [ noun ].

The dishes debate

Me: Are you up for doing dishes?
Spouse: Nope.
M: I cooked.
S: I got the groceries.
M: I read the stories.
S: I did the bath.
M: I did the songs.
S: We both did.
I did laundry.
And the cat box.
M: I swept.
S: I have an early morning.
M: Growing a whole person.
S: Aw, crap.

What can I say? Baby wanted pancakes for dinner, and now baby wants Spouse to clean the stovetop, too. Mama’s messy with batter.

Marital hope

According to a fluff piece over at CNN (sorry, Ms. Stinchfield, but it is pretty fluffy), marriage is better before kids and after kids leave.

My takeaway:

“A 2008 study found that marital satisfaction actually improves once children leave home. Female participants reported spending equal amounts of time with their partners both while their children lived at home and after, but they noted that the quality of that together time was better once the kids were out of the picture. “Suddenly the tyranny of the children controlling the household is relieved,” says Dr. Robbins. “You don’t have to have dinner at 6, you don’t have to spend Saturdays at the soccer field, and you don’t have to be so responsible all the time.”

So I’m putting out a call to all landlords, employers, and colleges who will take a 3 year old. Please.


Cat sinks claws into Spouse’s back while trying to cuddle him. I trim cat’s claws, because Spouse refuses to. Never has. Nine years.

After the trim:
Me: Would you grab the dustpan and sweep up the cat’s nails?
S: You trimmed ’em, you sweep ’em.
M: I trimmed them for you. You sweep ’em.
S: You trimmed them haphazardly. You sweep ’em.
M: I swept all the crumbs under P’s chair. You sweep this.
S: You made *and* served food that made crumbs. You *deserve* to sweep.
M: There is no deserve about sweeping. Our house, our chores.
S: Nope. You find the puke, you clean it. You cut the nails, you sweep ’em.
M: [speechless]
S: That’s right. Post hoc ergo propter hoc.
M: That’s not how you use it!
S: [Grinning and walking away] I know.

It’s a wonder I haven’t killed him yet.

And did I sweep them? Of course. Because while Spouse is at work, enjoying his own thoughts and peeing by himself  and getting paid for it (that’s all I remember about work now is thinking and peeing and getting paid), Peanut will step on cat claw trimming and scream bloody murder about how something hurt him and then will sit down to examine it and will undoubtedly try to eat it and then shriek that it’s gross and then try to stab me with it to see if it hurts me the same way it hurt his foot and tongue, and I’m not going to have that be my morning. So, yes, I swept up the nails. It’s a wonder I haven’t killed me yet, either.

Your love is like a fungus

Is it a sign from the relationship gods that I have a fungus growing under my wedding ring? Well, correction: my engagement ring. I never wear my wedding ring. The engagement ring is too sweet by itself. But now it’s a little less sweet since it’s giving me an itchy, red, peeling rash. I took it off a few weeks ago to let the thing heal. It took more than a week. I left it off for another week. I thought maybe it was contact dermatitis and that washing the band would take care of it. Nope. Two days on and it’s red, peeling, and itchy again.

So, aside from dunking the ring in jockitch cream, what do I do? Is the platinum making the point that Spouse is a louse? Is it conspiring to suggest that now, after the move back home, I should ditch the ring as either symbol or reality? Is my finger trying to get out of this marriage? Don’t you think someone in a bar, where I spend all my copious free time, would notice the red and scaly patch where a ring used to be? Forget tan lines: athlete’s foot is the mark of a really well worn band.

Am I allergic to my Spouse? Or just symbols of his (metaphorically) perpetually cloying love? Is a foul fungus growing in my marriage? Do I need some lessons in hygeine? Will Tiffany’s delouse a jewelry collection, when I come in for its antifungal treament? Is that included in the purchase price?

How lame to go to a doctor to ask for assistance in clearing up a ring around my finger. Um, lady, red and flaky is the new platinum. Go with it.

1.) Gross!  2.) What the?  3.) How the? 4.) Why the? 5.) Go the f— away! 6.) Gross!