Archive | Love and Marriage RSS feed for this section

Throw Caution to the Wind…You’ll Be Happy You Did

10 Aug
 (Photo: Getty Images)

It’s been a while since I’ve written about The Hubby. Why? Because I’m busy…and frankly, too tired. That sounds awfully familiar. Perhaps because I often use those words,  “I’m too tired,” as the standard response whenever The Hubby wants to do the horizontal mambo…err, toss salad…get jiggy with it…you know what I mean…have SEX.

Okay, admit it. You do it too. We (women who are working their asses off raising kids, earning an income, managing the household, trying to maintain our sanity) all do it. Because we are so overloaded with life, the last thing we feel is sexy or that we want to do at the end of a long day of tantrums and whining (sometimes our kids, but mostly people we work with) is get naked and romp around with our partners. We. Really. Are. Tired. No. Joke.

Yet, one of the main ingredients for a good relationship is intimacy, or sex. If you’re like me, I find it very difficult to switch from one personna (worker, Mom, maid) to another (sex goddess) at the drop of a hat. Throw in exhaustion, insecurity about my aging body, a mild headache, and forget it. The Hubby however, can have a bad day at work, come home and help give the kids a bath, take out the trash, pay some bills, and be ready to jump in the sack for a little nookie with no problem.

So, the other day when The Hubby and I were enjoying a moment’s peace while the kids were playing nicely together, he looked at me and said, “Do you want to engage in a little afternoon delight?” This was in broad day light and the kids were in the very next room.

My response was, “You mean now?”

The Hubby suggested we go to our bedroom at the back of the house, lock the door, and see what we could accomplish before the kids discovered that we were not around. My first thought was, No way! I couldn’t possibly relax knowing the kids may come knocking on the door. Then, for some reason, the planets aligned and I decided to go with it. We ran to the bedroom, locked the door, and got down to business.

Twenty minutes later (yes, it was a quickie), we walked out of our room and checked on the kids. They were still playing and had no clue what mommy and daddy just did. Whew. 

We went about our day, smiling at each other remembering the escapade we engaged in earlier. It was kind of fun doing something a little out of the ordinary. Though I may still be tired, I discovered that sometimes it’s good to just throw caution to the wind and go with it.

The Music Plays for No One

1 Jun

People like to think that once you find your soul mate, everything else automatically works itself out. Most likely you will find that the love of your life starts doing things that are a little quirky. As time goes on, those little quirks become annoyances and later they become irritating until finally they are completely unbearable. Loving someone and living with him or her sometimes seems like a mutually exclusive endeavor.

I think it was after we had been married for two years when I first noticed certain things the Hubby did that made me stop and think about them. Before that, there was virtually nothing he could do wrong. He would be on his way to the kitchen and ask me if I wanted anything. He would come home from his day and seem like he was actually happy to see me, greeting me with a big hug and kiss. He would put the seat down all the time. But slowly, as if by some gradual primeval evolutionary process, things changed. I’m not quite sure how or why it happened. He would go to make himself a snack from the kitchen, come into the living room and sit down right next to me with his treat. I would give him a look as if to say, “Hey, I’m hungry. I’d like a snack too,” and he wouldn’t even notice. I’d have to sigh or huff and puff for him to pay attention to me but he’d just look at me and say, “What?” Or he’d come home from work and go straight to our closet, change his clothes, then flip the T.V. on without even saying hello to me. Maybe I started taking him for granted too, but we’re not talking about me here.

When we first met, we would often go to his apartment and listen to his music. The Hubby is a music fanatic and collects it like someone would troll dolls. I think he has over ten million songs on his iTunes. He’s got everything from Barry Manilow and John Denver to Metallica and Disturbed and everything in between. It’s always bizarre to listen to “Sunshine” by John Denver and go to “10,000 Fists in the Air” by Disturbed in one click. I used to think he was so eclectic and worldly with his wide variety of musical tastes. It was part of his charm, until I lived with him. Not only does he listen to some of the most annoying music on the planet, but he also has to have it blasting throughout the house, neighborhood, and city. We’ll be getting ready for dinner and he’ll put on “Breaking the Law” by Judas Priest on so loud, I can actually feel Rob Halford breathing in between notes. I try to tell The Hubby to turn it down but he doesn’t hear me. I have to start acting out what I’m trying to communicate to him and he doesn’t understand. He just thinks I’m getting violently ill. Finally, I walk over to the stereo and turn it down and he gives me a, “What’d you do that for?” I try to calmly and politely tell him that I’d like to enjoy my meal rather than get a week’s worth of heartburn. He’ll think I just don’t like the song he selected, which I don’t but then he’ll put on something by Air Supply that makes me even more nauseous and I’ll tell him I’m not hungry anymore.

It doesn’t just happen at home. He carries his obsession with his music wherever he goes. When we’re in the car, he’s got to have his iPod with the connector thing that plays it in our car. I’ve learned that I’m not allowed to play any music I like in the car because it’s too pedestrian and mainstream. He has to play some musical rock opera about Satan’s children with lots of flute or some drippy love song by a bleeding heart singer/song writer. What’s wrong with pedestrian and mainstream? At least it doesn’t give me a migraine or an upset stomach. The worst is when we’re on a road trip and we’re stuck in the car for hours listening to a musak version of “Baby Got Back” or the whole album of a very bad space rock band’s interpretation of medieval science fiction. We’ll stop at a gas station after four hours and me and the children will run into the convenience store asking if they have a hammer so we can use it to smash daddy’s iPod.

The Hubby even takes his beloved iPod to bed with him to listen to as he falls asleep. On several occasions I’ve had to remind him to turn the volume down because I can hear the singer screaming out lyrics like, “You f*cker, come on and get down with the sickness!” I ask him how he can listen to thrash metal while he’s trying to fall asleep and he’ll tell me that it helps him calm his mind. I wonder, if that helps him calm his mind what the heck is he thinking about? Maybe I don’t want to know. A few times I’ve actually listened to his song selection on his iPod and could only stand it for two maybe three songs. I mean, going from Eminem to Captain and Tennile to Kenny Rogers, and then Rage Against the Machine would make most people really pissed off, jubilant, and depressed all at the same time.

If that’s not bad enough, the Hubby will turn on the stereo in the living room, full blast, of course, and then leave the room for hours. Usually, I’ll come in to the guitar solo or the drum solo and look around for him. He’s not there, and neither is anyone else for that matter. I’ll finally find him outside mowing the law or organizing the garage and ask, “Why is the music on if you’re out here?” He’ll typically tell me that he was going to come back in after he finished whatever he was doing. Sometimes that could be an in-depth session of going through his old comic book collection which could last for hours. Meanwhile, the music is blasting to an empty room. Or he’ll go into the garage to work out or do something with his tools and he’ll turn on the stereo out there, because he has to have music wherever he goes. He has it tuned to his favorite radio station, “The Bone.” Then he’ll come back into the house and watch TV. I’ll go to the laundry room to empty the dryer and hear weird noises coming from the garage and once again the music is playing for no one. Well, sometimes the cats go in the garage so they are being traumatized for hours by the Hubby’s blasting music.

What once made him seem eclectic and worldly now drives me crazy. If I had known the full extent of his obsession with music, I probably would have found some way to accidentally catch his CD collection on fire while we were dating. I would still have married him though. He does have a few songs in his collection that I actually like and when he plays them we’ll sometimes dance. Any man willing to dance with his wife in the living room to Duran Duran is definitely a keeper.

Obsessions

13 Jan








What are yours?

Romance

14 Sep


If you ask a man and a woman “What is romance?” You will get two entirely different answers. Duh! Okay, so that’s not so much of a mystery but it is interesting to think about.

The Hubby and I definitely have differences of opinion when it comes to romance and here are some things I’ve noticed about those differences:

1) Big Romantic Gestures vs. Everyday Romance
The Hubby tends to view the big events, like birthdays, Valentine’s Day, and certain anniversaries as trite, but prefers to demonstrate his devotion in more utilitarian ways…like doing the laundry, taking care of things that need to be fixed, and solving problems. While I don’t really subscribe to “Hallmark” holidays like Valentine’s Day, I do like to be showered with roses and chocolates on special occasions. The occasional piece of jewelry is a nice touch too.

2) Chivalry vs. Paying Attention
I’m a dreamer at heart so the idea of The Hubby coming home to whisk me away from dirty toilets, screaming kids, and a broken-down car isn’t half bad. Or having him solve all my problems while I sit in the corner batting my eyelashes doesn’t sound too bad either. The Hubby will buy me a book because I mentioned that I wanted to get it or he’ll take the kids for an afternoon because I said that I needed a break. He’s more of a modern-day hero than a Sir Lancelot.

3) Jealousy vs. Possession
The Hubby likes it when other men gawk at me (doesn’t happen much). I asked him why and he said it makes him feel good when “he has what other guys don’t have.” For me, it’s totally opposite. I HATE it when other women check out The Hubby (happens more than he thinks it does) or when a waitress flirts with him. I’m like, “what do you think you’re doing, girl?” I’m the jealous type and he likes it when he’s the envy of other men.

Dictionary.com defines romance in one instance as “a baseless, made-up story, usually full of exaggeration or fanciful invention.” I guess that’s true when you think of some of those crazy romance novels where the shirtless man rides up on a stallion to the woman in the field wearing a too-tight dress; he jumps off the horse and grabs her in his arms, her breasts pressed up against his muscular chest…my idea of romance is evolving. The Hubby has helped me see beyond the fairy-tale version and made me see the opportunities for romance in every day. Although, I still wouldn’t mind diamonds, flowers, sentimental cards, and a castle.

Off to the Napa Wine Country

11 Sep


Ten years. Well, really 13 years if you count from the time we first met. The Hubby and I have been through the end of my first marriage, four home moves, family dysfunction, home improvements, trips to Cancun and Cannes France, two children, two job lay-offs (mine), and a bunch of stuff I can’t even remember.

Now, it’s time to celebrate.

We’re off to the Napa Wine Country for wine tasting, food eating, and massive relaxation (not to mention SLEEPING IN!)…WITHOUT CHILDREN!!

What makes a marriage work? I have no clue. Somehow we’ve been able to muddle through, communicate, support each other, and still remain friends. To me, that’s pretty damn good.

To quote Ferris Bueller, “Life moves pretty fast. You don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.”

We’re gonna stop and look around a lot this weekend.

Who Am I?

21 Jul
Recently, I’ve noticed though that the person I see in the mirror is not the same person I think I am. The one in the mirror looks tired, stressed, and well, old. When did this happen? While I was at work? Having my panic attacks? Or did it happen after I had kids but I was too busy keeping them from eating rocks to notice? I don’t really feel old, except after 10 p.m. For some reason, I can’t stay up late any more. It’s like some demented fairy god mother put a spell on me and I turn into a snoring pumpkin at the stroke of 10 p.m.

The person I think I am is this 40-something wonder woman who can do 50 things at one time perfectly. She can work for 10 hours and never make a mistake. In fact, she can do her job better than the idiots who are supposedly experts. She can cook a healthy gourmet meal for her family: one that everyone will actually eat and beg for more. She can be a loving, patient, and kind mother even when her children scream at the top of their lungs that they want candy for dinner. She can be a sex goddess in the bedroom at the drop of a hat. Her husband constantly lusts after her so he has no need to download photos of Jessica Alba in her bikini onto his computer desktop or look at computer porn. She is the envy of all her neighbors because her house is always impeccable and her yard could be on the cover of Sunset magazine. This wonder woman has never-ending energy and also figures out how to solve the country’s budget crisis in her spare time. She never gains weight from drinking Lattes at Starbucks twice a day or sneaking a midnight snack of Ben and Jerry’s.

Perhaps I have delusions of grandeur.

Where the hell did I get these ideas from? Well, from TV, popular magazines, and the Internet. The reality is I am a woman on the edge. I am constantly running around looking for things I need and finding things that I don’t need. I work in jobs where having a “thick skin” is the minimum requirement because if you don’t have it, you will go insane. You would think most of these professionals just graduated from the school of “Hey, it’s not my problem so go screw yourself.” And when I go to Starbucks for my Lattes and Mochas, they just go directly to my thighs and my flappy arms. I’ve had to cut back because I think I’m going to take flight someday soon, but I think my thighs will give me enough aerodynamics to land safely.

I have pretty much lost my sex drive after ten years of marriage…it’s all I can do to fix my hair in the mornings, get the kids to school on time, do some work, slog through the day, fix something for dinner, do the dishes, get homework done, get the kids ready for bed, fold the laundry, and get ready to start the whole thing over again the next day. Did you see anything even remotely sexy in that long list? I sure didn’t. All I can see are the weed trees in my backyard and the gopher holes. I like to pretend that they are the new thing in gardening. I’m starting a new trend: crap yard gardening.

I couldn’t figure out what to make for dinner if the world’s safety depended on it. I practically live at the grocery store, the check out clerks know my name, address, phone, social security number, and what kind of toilet paper I use. When I get home and throw food together into something called a meal, my family looks at me as if I’ve put dead bunnies on their plates. I will also surely be deaf in the next five years from my daughter’s high-pitched screaming anytime she gets excited or overtired. If that doesn’t do it, my son will take care my last shred of auditory senses with his yelling and roaring since he believes he is a Tyrannosaurus Rex and cannot quietly ask for anything. One day I will have a quiet room all to myself after they catch me running down the street in my pajamas.

I am connected via Facebook, MySpace, Twitter, Classmates.com, and 500 other social networking sites that I’ve forgotten about because I can’t remember my user ID or password. My husband and I text each other about appointments, picking the kids up, getting the oil changed in the cars, and sending our love to each other through the wireless networks that keep us together. Lord knows we don’t have time to tell each other these things in person. If it wasn’t for texting, I wouldn’t know what the heck he was doing. I’ve got a society security card but I think the way things are going with our economy I should just throw it away. I have $2.00 left in my 401K and I’m not relying on Uncle Sam for anything. I have dubious health insurance coverage, a Costco card, and a jumbo mortgage. I’m a compulsive-recovering consumer. I try not to buy too much stuff, and if I do buy stuff, I try to buy what I need. I buy organically but not spinach or peanut butter because you can get salmonella from those things. I use anti-bacterial hand cleanser, which is why my hands look like the Wicked Witch’s of the West, but at least I don’t have to worry about those people who don’t wash their hands after they use the bathroom when I get a shopping cart. That’s just gross.

If you ask me how I am doing, I’ll reply that I’m fine. Don’t let my smile fool you.

(Photo courtesy of deviantart)

Who’s Brangelina’s Free F*ck?

4 Mar


Most people on this planet would agree that Brangelina is the hottest couple since…well, since Adam and Eve. So I was wondering the other night as I was doing the dishes because my life is so glamorous…who are Brad and Angelina’s free f*cks?

You know, every couple has this agreement that they get one free f*ck if the hottest person on the planet happened to be in the neighborhood, walked up to the door, and said, “Hey, ya wanna f*ck?”

My free f*ck is Ryan Reynolds. The Hubby’s is Jessica Alba.

But I digress. Who do you think Brad’s free f*ck is? What about Angelina? If you are with the hottest person on the planet who would your free f*ck be? Perplexing question, I know. I’m very curious to see what you guys come up with…cuz I have no idea.

%d bloggers like this: