mydarlingcurse.com

a million years ago, i was lucky enough to watch a band in the recording studio. it’s took like 48 hours to get one song down. the second day i went was also my birthday. that morning, when i got up, i didn’t leave right away. not that i was hanging around to hear hubbin say “Happy Birthday”, but i was a little bit. and he never said it. so i went to the studio grumpy and sad. the drummer commented on my mood and i said - what’s the first thing you say to your wife when she wakes up on her birthday? he said “Happy Birthday, of course”. right! i said, maybe i should have slept with you last night. he thought this was hysterical and promptly wished me a happy birthday. sweet kid.

yesterday was our 11th anniversary. we went out friday night and when we got home and got into bed, it was around 12:30 AM. hubbin says, “happy anniversary”. i say the same. the next day, we are both not feeling well - everyone is getting sick at my house - but still. all day nothing. nothing, not one word. it wasn’t until we sat down to dinner and i gave hubbin two anniversary cards that he said anything. and it wasn’t that he said, happy anniversary, he didn’t really say that. he just said that he didn’t have a card for me.

we eat and the after dinner we start cleaning up and and he reaches for a hug. what’s wrong? he asks. gee, i dunno, it’s like you completely forgot that today was our anniversary. i mean, it’s 6:30 PM and you haven’t even said anything. (i figure by 6:30 PM if flowers haven’t been delivered or a card received he forgot or is a complete idiot). i said happy anniversary last night, he said. yeah, i was there, but that was last night, not today. saying it at 12:30 in the morning doesn’t mean you don’t have to say it today. it doesn’t get you off the hook. and that was it.

i’m hurt and humiliated beyond belief. i work my ass off and to the detriment of my own mental health. and no, i don’t feel well, and he’s complaining about getting sick. but i’m the one getting up with the baby at night, and i’m the one giving boo meds so she doesn’t get it too. AND YOU STILL HAVE TO SAY IT!!! it sucks that he didn’t get me a card. every year i tell him he doesn’t need to get me a gift as long as he gets me flowers. that’s all i want - flowers. and maybe an acknowledgment of the day.

i think most husbands would be thrilled to be off the hook so easily. for christsakes, you can order flowers online in advance to have delivered on the day you choose. you can have someone put “happy anniversary” on the card to be delivered with the flowers. it shouldn’t be impossible for a nearly 40 year old college graduate married for eleven fucking years to get his wife flowers or a card. but apparently it was this year.

and there will be so many things to blame, the kids, his getting sick, how busy we are, blah blah blah. you know, if you think long enough and hard enough there is an excuse for everything. but there is ABSOLUTELY NO EXCUSE FOR THIS. none.

fuck.

i guess it’s very zen to have nothing going on in your head. but i thinking clearing ones mind is different from just hitting the mute button. i’m not even thinking in fragments anymore, it’s like i’m no longer capable of coherent thought. it’s just a random list of things that are constantly going wrong. none of which i seem able to fix - not that i have the energy or motivation to try.

boo’s recent injury still weighs on me. hubbin and i talked a little bit about it last night, but i don’t think things went very well. i don’t feel any better and usually when we have a chance to talk it out, we both walk away feeling great. maybe there is more to talk about.

i just feel like i want to press pause. but only for myself. i want everything else to keep going. i need a replacement bot. seems that i’m just going through the motions anyway, why not just get a FemBot in to do what i normally do or don’t do? then i could go off and work on myself and come back at this with a different perspective.

i think the reason for all of this is that my Mom’s birthday is coming up this weekend. she would have been 65 this year.

over the past week or so (basically since i started the new meds), i’ve had very man-specific dreams. the only bothersome part about it is that hubbin isn’t on the list.

a.) PT - always with the PT, always out of reach
b.) Chris Robinson - my rock-n-roll angel, never interfering, only guiding. “Not that way darlin’, this-a-way…”
c.) hubbin’s brother - i know, i know! i don’t dream about my own hubbin, but his brother makes the list. he’s always driving.
d.) steege - off in the distance, as in real life.
e.) the buns - everything, everything, everything gets cut short because of the buns.
f.) adrien brody - always there telling me something important that i instantly forget. then i spend the rest of my time seeking him out, running into everyone else and playing basketball, trying to find him to ask him “could you repeat that?”.

for so long i didn’t have dreams that i could remember. they were just the abstract catalogues of my mind untwisting itself. and for so long i didn’t want to sleep - i think people who have experienced a trauma get like that. in a world where, it seams, the reality of it has dropped out from under us, sleep is one of the things still in our control. so i push myself too far, unhealthy, before i give myself over.

and most of the time falling asleep is just an exercise of futility and anxiety. i think to myself, it’s 10 o’clock now, if i fall asleep this instant, i’ll get at least two hours before boo wakes up, crawls into our bed and kicks me in the back trying to get comfortable. then it will be another half an hour before i get back to sleep (since she tosses like a salad). and if i’m asleep by one, that gives another solid three hours before the buns wakes up. then when the buns wakes up a little after four, i spend 30-45 minutes trying to get him back down. then i crawl back into bed, pushing spindly little legs out of the way, and toss and turn until buns wakes up again an hour later, so i can poke hubbin so he can get up. then i sleep between 5:15 and 6:45 when boo wakes up and wants something.

one of the reasons i’m such a joyless bitch is that i haven’t slept more than a five hour stretch in five or six months. buns used to sleep through the night, when he was in his car seat, but he’s too big for that now and it only buys us an extra hour when we can get him to do it. and sure, buns sleeps during the day, but to ensure the two hour naps he needs, he has to be sleeping on you. which i don’t mind, i’ll lay down on the couch and read or snooze. but a 30 minute snooze isn’t long enough. i wake up more tired and angry that i didn’t sleep longer.

aunt iowa said it took her years, years! before she wasn’t sleep deprived. so looks like a long road ahead.
“Not that way, darlin’ this-a-way.”

these issues with my Dad, to big and hurtful to mention here, are messing me up today.

i’m trying to write him a letter and i get two sentences down and start weeping. then i walk away from it, and come back only to gouge the wound even more and cry.

my chest hurts.

he’s off in AZ with annie oakley this week, doing his thing. which is fine. i’m working myself up so much over this thing, it’s probably better that he’s not within striking distance.

yesterday, convinced that our tin foil covered windows were what was causing hubbin and i to frequently implode, i tore the foil off with flourish and instantly felt better. the buns got a little scared at my enthusiasm, making a cute little face close to crying, but you could tell he wasn’t sure. and when i smiled down at him and said it was okay, he totally believed me.

the last week we’ve been working on getting the kids’ room in order, yes they are sharing a room. boo’s princess bed is set up now, and we are working on transitioning the buns to the crib. i hate to admit it, but he sleeps so good in the car seat, it’s hard to give up. he got TEN HOURS of sleep in the car seat last night. if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.

hubbin thought that boo would have a hard time falling asleep in our room if the foil was off - not true! she was out by 9PM, which is early for her. and now it’s coming up on 7AM and she and hubbin are still asleep.

i didn’t realize it until after hubbin came up that i had passed out with boo, usually i stay up and read, but guess not.

**dream post ahead**

and i had a dream about my Mom. i’m having some issues with my Dad (big, major, Oprah issues) and i so desperately want to talk to her about it. and last night she showed up, but it was a “good day” for her up to a point and i didn’t want to spoil anything. the weird thing is, is that she was wearing red eye shadow, which she’d never do in real life - but in the dream world, she pulled it off. then the pain started to get the better of her and she wanted one of her pills, she handed me a pill case and when i opened it to the right day and dumped the pills out there were so many of them that i had no idea which one was the one she wanted. and i didn’t get to tell her about my dad. so i woke up happy to have seen her, but glum that she’s gone.

then, for the first time, i had a dream about my family in my house. i’ve never had dreams about this house before, and we’ve lived here like ten years. but in the dream, i was in my kitchen and had made a quesadilla. hubbin came along and totally snatched it. and when i said, hey, i just made that! he grumbled something about my nutrition and threw it in dishwater. i got made and left and couldn’t find boo, i was walking up the street calling for her, and then she came running to me (in that way kinds do on TV). there was such a feeling of elation at that moment, such joy and peace that i started to cry. i swept her up in my arms and woke up.

weird.

the family is gone and the party is over. boo is three and the buns has been baptized. i’m exhausted and frustrated. when i get tired my patience with the kids decreases and it shouldn’t since they are dog tired too.

so we are having a mellow day. i’d love to get out and go to the park, but i think i’m going to fix lunch, give boo and bath and try to get the both to sleep.

how do these women do it all the time? i just don’t get it.

reminded me to comment on a few things….

- my niece coming up from atlanta
- finding colby
- drinks with fultzie
- boo’s birth story

i feel a crash and burn coming on too….

i love the tour de france today. hubbin has always been a huge fan.

the time trials are today, and it’s like the best day in the tour since anything can happen. the leaders need to kick it into high gear because seriously, some guy listed tenth could come out of the gate and bury them all.

hubbin got up with buns, so i got an extra hour (almost) of sleep, then he took both kids down to the basement where boo can play and buns can sleep and he can watch the Tour on the big screen TV. i hear hubbin explaining the concept of a time trial to boo. tough thing to do since she has no concept of time. i tell him to start small, start with the jersey.

it’s nice being up here with my laptop, tea and crosswords. but i still feel full of tears.

i’m chalking all this up to the fact that i weened buns last week and am getting through the engorgement and subsequent hormonal changes (no more night sweats! huzzah!) but i’m concerned that it’s more than that. i have no problem getting back on an anti-depressant, but i don’t want to go to the doctor to get more. why? because i have to change doctors and that’s a pain.

i used to be really good at just turning the bad stuff off until i could deal with it. now it seems like it’s all i deal with, so there is no stopper. i keep telling myself that it’s temporary, that huubin will come around, the kids will get older and bigger and stronger, it’s not going to be like this tomorrow. i keep telling myself that, but when will i start believing it?

i’m bored to tears. there is plenty to do around here, the entire house could be dusted, but i don’t have any motivation for anything. i feel toxic and prickly. i simply feel like i only take up space - a large amount of space, but more on that in a minute.

i love my children. i would kill and be killed for them. i went through so much to bring them into our lives and for whatever reason i feel sad and guilty when they don’t complete me. granted, they aren’t supposed to. not at all. but being a stay at home mom just isn’t for me. i mean, i’m not a huge success someplace else in my life where being able to stay home is a luxury. hubbin and i decided that this is what we would do, that he would work and i would stay home (not that that’s not work). it’s just so menial and ungratifying. i can’t be happy everyday. i just can’t. it’s no longer in me or a part of who i am.

i feel orphaned by my family and abandoned by most of my friends. i feel than hubbin does only the minimum required and i have completely shut down. i never have a minute to myself without one of the kids needing something so why bother. even now as i type buns is crying and working out some gas and boo is impossible to please since she only slept for less than an hour during nap.

i also hate the body i’m in. i weigh more now than i did at the height of my pregnancy and that is enough to make me want to cut myself.

poor me.

maybe i’m being a ninny, but i think it’s too hot outside. so hot in fact that i don’t think the kids should be outside for very long. i’m sure warm and humid air is good for something - i mean, look at all the old folks down in florida. but to me it’s just gross. and yeah i get it that kids don’t care about stuff like that, but parents should.

so am i a bad/evil mom for not encouraging my almost three year old to play outside? am i just projecting concern over the weather to cover up my own laziness and aversion to hot weather? i mean she’s not ten, it’s not like i can let her outside and have her entertain herself. she needs supervision, so if she’s in the heat, we’re in the heat. and like i said, hot weather like this is gross.

i had a realization today that i’m just passing through. nothing sticks to me, i stick to nothing. there is no lasting impression i make on things around me, and i forget events and conversations almost instantly. i guess you could call this living in the moment, but it seems more like a creepy mental illness to me.

i get that it’s all about the kids, that i have a three month old that needs me, that i nurse and cherish. that it’s temporary. but what’s going to be left of me in two years when he’s a toddler and boo is a kindergartner? who is that chick going to be? do i even care at the moment? not really, but i do think about it.

i guess i just miss being interesting and funny and new to someone.

fabulous vodo-esque webcrush where are you? not that that would help. but it would be something.

something else has to happen to me. beyond kids and fighting with the chicago cowboy(aka the chicago ex). is it wrong that i’m not content with BCB with JCSG being enough of an outlet?

will mydarlingcurse ever be more than an emotion tampon and mental vomitorium?

stay tuned….