life in the slow/fast/slow/fast/slow lane

Whether you’ve noticed or not, I haven’t blogged much.  At least not here. I’ve blogged like a mad woman over at the fam blog.  But I censor myself there, and I don’t have to here.

My relationship with hubby seems to be falling to shit once again.  I’m depressed. I have health issues that I either can’t fix, or can’t afford to fix. I’m angry at the stupid weather.  I’m angry that my 4yr old can piss me off so quickly, and elicit a reaction that she’s obviously yearning for, and I give it to her. 

I was told 2 months ago that I’m depressed, that I can take something to help me get through it – that it probably wouldn’t take long.  But hubby flipped his fucking LID over the idea, and because everything I fucking DO is for him, mostly, I didn’t take them.  He flipped bcause he’s known “people” on antidepressants before, and they were zoned out, made rash decisions, blah blah fucking blah.  Oh, and of course, what’s the effects on our son, whom I’m exclusively breastfeeding?

Oh, I don’t know – maybe the effects of me ALWAYS BEING MISERABLE AND ALWAYS YELLING AT HIS SIBLINGS – that might do something, too.

And I talk to him about it – yes, I most certianly do. Trying to keep those lines of communication open – that’s Me. Ms. Graham fuckin Bell.  And the results?

“Well, I’m depressed too.  We live in a depressed part of the country. I have a dead-end job. We have nothing to look forward to.”

Gee

I’m all warm & fuzzy now.

He can be so close-minded about things, there’s no way in hell I could get him into counseling.  So I say well, research this – figure out where to move where it’s not so damned shitty.

I give him all the fucking power.

I hate that I do this because it looks like FLIPPY is coming back and you know what? I was really starting to dislike him… severely.

It happens when he starts to dislike his job.  Which is, frequently, frequent.  The people are stupid, the boss is stupid, blahblahblah.  He’s doing a job he dislikes to begin with.  Well, guess WHAT?  Shit happens.

sigh

I apparently have a severely infected tooth or teeth that need to come out like YESTERDAY, according to the dentist. The infection could cause nerve damage, they tell me.  The news story tells me it could go to my brain & kill me.  I’m now on antibiotics, but I’m hedging on having them pulled because of the money.  The insurance company has a ONE YEAR waiting period on surgical extractions -which these are because they’re broken off at the gumline – because, you know… I like pain.

yah

And hubby’s idea of us alternating, one week he gets to decide what we’re going to do (in bed), and the next week is my choice… has really turned into a bad idea.  This weekend was my turn, and I felt OBLIGATED to have sex with him – sex during which he only touched me very briefly except for his dick.  Sex that I couldn’t wait for it to be over.  Sex that was so completely unsatisfying … there’s not even a word for.  I felt OBLIGATED.  What the fuck is up with that? 

I just don’t like him right now.

I don’t like me either, just to be fair.

It pisses me off to think I’ll have to wean my son so I can go get a fucking (stupid ass, low-paying retail or tourism) job so he can stay home and play with his dick music all day long.

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just blahhhhh

I know I have been ignoring my blogging duties here.  I’ve been blogging like a madwoman over at my other blog, but have really had nothing even remotely adult to share with you here.

I’m back to my blahhhhhs.

The sex has dried up due to really annoying illnesses, first on his part and now on mine.

I went to the dentist on Monday for the first time in 5 years [thanks to newly purchased dental insurance].  While his assessment didn’t surprise me, the bill [fucking OUCH] did. And then of course, that night, my teeth, which weren’t hurting BEFORE I went to the dentist, sure as hell did after.  Then the allergies kicked in, filling my sinuses and making every movement of my head hurt, making my teeth throb.   I’ve been a mess ever since.

Fuck, ya know?

The fucking idiot that did the HR duties at my hubbies work, because she wasn’t doing her job CORRECTLY back in February, put us onto the medical/dental benefits that we signed up for RETROACTIVELY, which EFFECTIVELY knocked me off of medicaid.  We didn’t know anything about this, though, until last Friday when I called my OB’s office to see why I’d gotten a freakin BILL for his services (although he only assisted).  Turns out that there’s a watchdog group out there that watches to make sure there’s no dual insurance shit going on.  They found ours, popped my ass off of medicaid and handed all the bills to the paid medical insurance company [that I won't name for fear of defammation lawsuits].  So now I’m getting CO-PAYS on everything, and of course, you also have to pay the FIRST co-pay of $500 per person per calendar year, and then after that, they’ll cover you on some stuff UP TO 80%.  Yippee fucking doo-dah.  So for some $320 a MONTH, they’ll do that nifty stuff for ya.

Thanks. a. whole. fucking. lot.

[I wonder how many google hits I get just for using the word FUCKING so much]

Then, of course, the “estimate” for my teeth. Ha. fucking. HA.  I went and looked it up in the “manual” to see just how much of this FUCKING bill will cost us.

Four extractions (because my amalgam fillings shrunk, allowing bacteria into the tooth base, causing further deterioration, causing the filling to fall out, the tooth to break and leave large, unsightly tooth bases in my mouth, making me look Oh So Pretty)… 3 of those are like that – those are $200-$245 each (we have to pay 20%).  Plus the nitrous that I’ve requested, not covered all, an extra $200.  That’s roughly $480.  Yes, that’s not bad when you consider it totals $1600!!!   Then, consider he wants to put in cadaver bone to fill in the space where those 3 teeth are coming out of, to preserve the ridge so I can be fitted for partials (which I have to wait 12 months for), that’s an addition $1150 – none of which is covered by insurance.

Then let’s talk about the  perio work I need, admittedly.  Doesn’t this sound exciting – scaling & root planning. WOohoo.  another $1290 and ya know, bi-weekly visits for 10 fucking weeks, accompanied by repeated anesthesia shots (which I’d rather have a fucking spinal than have these) and ya know… keeping in mind that I have TMJ and can’t keep my fucking MOUTH OPEN THAT LONG.  Sigh.

SO, to say that I’m not in a good mood is an understatement.  That shit that went down with my family is still unresolved.  I’m not getting any.  My house is a mess, the fuckers are making us get our own electrical account (which had been included in our rent since we moved in) at a cost of whoever knows how much per month PLUS the $130 we have to give the electric company as a deposit.  Oh, but they’re taking $45 a month off our rent.

Big. Fucking. Deal!!!!!

My husband is making more than he ever has in his life, and yet here we are, struggling still.  The only way to get out of this is for me to get a friggin job, I swear, and then what do I do with MY THREE CHILDREN.

I went to my Dr. yesterday to follow up on the fact that the b12 wasn’t working, the numbness/loss of sensation is still there, and oh yeah, I’m still depressed.

Can’t Imagine Why.

She wants me to get out of the house and interact with other adults, even once a week. Sure.  No problem – as long as I can be back in ya know, 90 minutes to feed the youngest.

Fuck. Ya know?

I moved my other blog, and I’m pissed off with the template and can’t figure out how to change it so that every freakin line isn’t 1.5 spaced. It doesn’t recognize line returns/paragraphs <p> so it’s hard to read, and just fucking. grrrr.

I know, I’m ranting. Seriously, get the fuck over it if it’s bothering you.

Plus, I don’t know if anyone else can relate to this, but have you noticed that when you’re not having sex, it’s really hard to get the motivation to WANT to have sex again? Like, it’s just too much effort?

What the hell.

toys toys everywhere

I have a bazillion toys. My toy bag weighs at least 20 pounds. And it hasn’t come out of the depths of the bottom of my closet since 2 days before my son was born (so mom wouldn’t stumble upon it). We hardly ever use anything from my kinky play bag, mostly for a very simple reason. They make NOISE. So noise is not a good thing when you’re sharing a room with an infant. So, the noisy toys are out.

However, there is *one* toy that I love. One toy that I/we do use with almost 100% rate at getting me to my happy place. I’ve never been one with the insertable vibe type of toy, and this isn’t one of those. But apparently, the secret to MY success isn’t so much a secret, judging by the reviews on this particular “toy” I use. So my favorite toy isn’t necessarily a toy, but damn do I have a good time with it *eg*

So just IMAGINE my horror when the wind blew and ruffled the miniblinds in my bedroom window, causing an errant glass of water to fall to the floor -RIGHT NEXT TO MY TOY!!!!!!!!!!! – AND then imagine, if you will, just how fast my ass FLEW out of the chair in order to save not the $10 baby thermomether, nor the $20 light nor the $10 heating pad, all which live under that window, but to save MY TOY!!!  LOL

And as an aside and as promised to my kinky readers, the secret to HUBBY’s success that I alluded to earlier this week, was this toy, combined with his magical oral talents and holy cumma-cumma-cumma-chameleon, did I cum in a whole new way.

update on the experiment

Well, what a week! You may recall that on Tuesday, I told hubby he wasn’t going to cum that night.

The next day, we talked and I told him I’d like to try to get him to Saturday, which was “my night” to decide what we were going to do … sexually. He said “ok”

heh

I’d also wanted to see if him not having that release would make him more randy, playful, needy, etc. SOMETHING.

Unfortunately for me, no. But something else happened that made the “work” so worth it anyways.

Every night this week – Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday, we had sex. Or at least sexual activity. Each of those nights ended with me having one or more orgasms reliably – every night. And one afternoon, I even got flipped around and had my shorts yanked down so he could fuck me during his lunch break! Of course, this is becuase I’ve been teasing him mercilessly

But this whole cumming every time, and sometimes more than once, hasn’t happened in a very very long time. I’m always hit or miss, especially after having the baby. It’s been alot more miss.

He also let me know that it didn’t bother him not cuming, that he could do that all the time.

*evil grin* Oh reallllly?

He also managed to find yet another way to make me cum… ya know, all those different types of orgasms… yeah, we found another winner. Damn, did we ever.

Last night, he finally came and now next week it’s his turn… but like I said, it didn’t have the desired effect that I’d wanted in that whole … more affection/attention area, but it seems to also have relieved alot of the depression I’d been feeling for a while. I’ve felt so much better this week – it’s not a conscious effort to be happy or at least *not* blah this week, so that was a HUGE help.

so yay for us… and thanks to Sexy Momma and her hubby for the inspiration.

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Gratitude

gratitude n : a feeling of thankfulness and appreciation

For me, I really do try to be thankful every day for something. The other day, I was grumbling because stuff kept falling out of our freezer. Instead of getting aggrabated (My daughter’s term), I said out loud (I was on the phone at the time) “…and yes, I KNOW how lucky I am that having too much food can be considered a problem.” I really do try to look at those things like that – especially when my very ummm rambunctious 3 yr old, when she’s on my last nerve… I remind myself of how incredibly lucky I am to have her at all, and that she’s able to talk (& yell & scream) at all, when so many children in this country & world are so so so much worse off.

My point is, I am grateful for things every day and I try not to take those things for granted. Also, I did start this out last night, but then my “gratitude” person kinda pissed me off, so I had to throw it into drafts for the night LOL But regardless if I was annoyed or not, these feelings for him are constant (my gratitude, not the pissiness LOL)  Anyways, today my gratitude goes for having my man. My honey. My mate. My significant other. My Love.

As I’ve written many times, he & I haven’t always been the perfect couple. There have been times when I wished he’d go back to Tennessee. And then, he ::became::. I don’t know if it was some sort of mid-life crisis or what, but for whatever reason, he ::became:: the man I needed. The man I wanted. The man he was meant to be. He’s affectionate, he’s sexy, unbelievably so – and not just during “those” times – There’s nothing sexier to me than a man tending to his children. He’s smart and incredibly talented. He cooks, he cleans, he can and DOES do the laundry. He changes diapers, he soothes, he bathes, he feeds. He’s the best father a woman could ever want for her children. He’s put up with so much with me and my moods, my interests and my disinterests. He’s challenged me and my thoughts. He’s not perfect, but he’s perfect for me.

I know how lucky I am to have found a man that I can easily see spending the rest of my life with. I’ve seen what some people go through with their mates. The ones that they think (or thought) were their perfect others. The ones that continue to talk themselves into the idea that it’s a great match. I’m lucky in that I don’t have to do that. I can see his imperfections and know how to work around them when need be.

So today, I’m grateful for my love. The love of my life, to be sure. Even when he pisses me off, I still can’t imagine being with anybody else. I love you, honey.

The Measure of a Man

“The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort, but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy.” -Martin Luther King, Jr.

Upon my reading of Kristen’s blog entry for yesterday, I found myself still thinking about it after I’d shut my browser, after I’d gone downstairs to start lunch and wash dishes. It stayed on my mind throughout those preparations and that’s when I decided I needed to blog about it.

The above quote kept coming to mind, though I did have to go look up who originally said it. Kristen’s blog posting today got me to thinking about my own man, and how he measures (don’t be a perv!). It’s very true… it’s easy to be the stand-up guy when things are easy. It’s during those hard, stupid, emotional times when it gets tricky – and when the real person behind the machismo and testosterone stands up. It’s that guy, ultimately, that you need in your life. Not the one that says “no, honey, those pants don’t make you look fat” … ok, that one is good too, but you know what I mean.

Anyone who has read my blog for a decent length of time will know that I’ve not always been blessed with that guy. My man hasn’t always been my prince charming – there were times when I blogged about what a selfish, self-absorbed asshole he was. As well, I haven’t always been the wife/mother/spouse I should have been either. Specifically, I think back to yesteryear when I got high-speed cable internet and was on the net CONSTANTLY. I wasn’t Suzy Homemaker, that’s for sure. However, I grew, I changed, I got better. No, I’m not Suzy Homemaker yet, but at least I DO try to keep DHS people away

Somewhere along the way (2 years ago, almost), though, things changed within our relationship and things got better. LOTS better. And I blogged about that too. How he’s changed so much in that time, and continued to grow and change. He was never the type of guy to go out drinking with friends – hell, he hasn’t got any (honestly). But he was never that type. He’s always been family-centered, although his ideas on how to treat a woman were rather skewed. That changed, he now appreciates me and what I do 100% more than he ever did before. But that’s easy when I’m keeping the house clean, the kids fed and him happy. It’s when I can’t or don’t do those things that challenges him, I’m sure. It’s during these last 6 weeks when he purposely did every load of laundry. Even when I told him *I CAN DO THAT*, he did it anyways. Just to help out. It’s when he came home after working 8 hours and then cooked dinner. Because he could, and so I wouldn’t have to. And when I’d protest, he’d say “Your job right now is to take care of him” (meaning baby Zach). While incredibly sexist-sounding, it *is* true. Since I’m the only one who can feed him, and to feed him properly, I need rest, ok – you’re right honey, I’ll do that. And I HAVE. It’s been hard, because I know how hard it is to juggle it all. I’ve been doing it *all* for years. All he’s done when he’s come home was sit at his puter. I’ve cooked, cleaned, etc. and that’s been fine. It gets on my nerves every once in a while, and I feel unappreciated, but I get over it and go on. But to see him doing these things, without the whole martyr thing to go with it, has been really really nice.

So now that things have calmed down and I’m back on my feet and am able to pick up where I left off, he’s still helping. This is the best part of all, because now he doesn’t *have to*, he is anyways. That’s neat. It’s new. I’m LIKING IT!

Does he still drop the ball from time to time though? Hell yeah. We all do. But there’s things that have hurt and will stay hurt. Like last year when his father told me to get the fuck off his property and that I was never to step foot there again… hubby didn’t defend me – hubby didn’t say a damned word. He let his father speak to me like that in front of our children. He let his father call him pussy whipped in front of our children. He also let his father talk to my son like he was shit – blaming my 8 yr old for a perceived slight that had happened 2 years before. This hurt. A LOT. He never spoke to his father about any of this. They just went back to pretending like we’re all just one big happy family. IT was never addressed. He was allowed to do that and nothing was ever said. That hurt.

My main point about this entry was originally to say that he has proven what a man he is during the last 6 weeks. He proves it daily now. Hourly sometimes. Yesterday, willingly taking all three kids at once while I went to a dr. appointment, literally walking the halls with the littlest one (who was hungering for mama) while he waited for another dr. appt. for the baby & then taking them in for that appt.! Tonight, willingly taking all three kids at once while I go to my munch. For changing diapers, and waking up on his own several times a night to check on the sleeping baby, without me even knowing it. For knowing about my blogging & not having a problem w/me venting about him, our life, our kids or whatever. For slowly learning how to handle a weepy, post-partum woman who doesn’t even know why she’s crying.

For being my perfect mate.

balancing act

Every thing in life is a balancing act. I really do believe in karma. For the most part, things happen in equal portions of good and bad. Or not necessarily BAD, but … not good.

Take, for instance, my last posting. I extolled the incredibly wonderful event with my man. I didn’t, however, mention that there were some physical problems that hindered our “lovemaking” (I can never say that word without thinking of some bizarre Will Farrel SNL skit). That was the balance. Yes, he made me feel wonderful emotionally and physically but still, good & not so good collide.

Those problems are ongoing – it’s MY problem, not hubby’s. I’m not sure of the origin, but it bites…. big time. But we’ll get through it, as we always do. It’s terribly frustrating, though, so I come here to write about it, not to necessarily share it with you all, but just to get it out & look at it from perhaps a different perspective.

Believe it or not, not everything that goes on in my life is blogged about…. Good or bad, some things just aren’t worth sharing.

I try to remember that this blog is for *me*, (although I will admit to a small exhibitionist streak in me).   Last week’s entry, however, where I told the world how my man had made me feel… sharing such intimate details worked out well, because it was the way I shared how I felt WITH my man.  I had him read the entry – (he only reads my blog when I ask him to) – and his response was “I did all that?”  He had no idea that the way he responded to me and my post-pregnant body had made my heart and head soar.

It was through this dialogue that I came to find out that my man, my wonderful man, has a really low opinion of himself and his abilities.  He takes responsibility for my physiological problems, and no amount of my objecting to this will appease him.  He takes responsibility for it, blames himself or his “shortcomings”, of which he has none in that department.

As bad as that IS, it’s good in a way that I didn’t know about it before… He’s always joked about things before – his self-deprecation was cute.  He’s by no means… under-endowed, nor does he have a whale dick  LOL  We fit perfectly together, though, and that’s always what’s mattered to me.  I’ve had bigger, and definitely had smaller.  I like his the best.  There, I said it. LOL

But I had no idea that his sense of self-worth was so low. It’s brought a new challenge to my door, but at the very least, it’s one that I can at least handle, grasp and hopefully fix.  Maybe by then, my problems will have found a solution as well?

waking up

Part of the paradox that is child birth is a sense of accomplishment. You have put forth an entire human being. You’ve created life. Religiousness aside, you’ve DONE THIS. Look at what I did!

The other part of child birth is that it takes away every last ounce of dignity you may have ever had in the first place. Child birth isn’t pretty, sexy or remotely attractive in any way. Neither is the resulting recovery, and of course, add in the additional, inevitable lack of sleep and complete exhaustion and you’ve got a mess of a woman who, yes, has brought forth a human being, but feels like she’s been run over by a truck… over & over again.

At least that’s how it is for me. I look like hell. I fully admit to this. I’m not proud of it, but ya know… when you’re a human milk bar and the best you can manage is a shower every few days, and you watch brain cells go down the drain during those showers, it’s a good thing that you’re even awake at dinner. I tend to forget things easily and feel like a clown. My boobs are sore and mushy (not that burlesque type of overinflation you sometimes see with nursing moms), my belly is still swollen and although I’ve lost 20+ lbs, I still feel like a puffer fish. I do not feel sexy. I do not feel pretty. I do not feel beautiful.

ramblings

so, we’re again lying in the dark last night and I ask him, “Were you nervous on Wednesday?” – the whole idea that he finally did this is mind-boggling to me, and the mindset that he was in intrigues me completely.

Being the smartass that he is, says, “what part of Wednesday?”. “Wednesday night, you goof”, I say. “Well, I was nervous all day, actually… “, he says. “Why?”, I say. “Well, because have said no, or laughed”, he says (apparently in all seriousness).

the thought never entered my mind. It’s a good thing I’m not a snarky bitch, eh?

He did go on to say he wished he’d done it “better”. HOW, I ask. Because seriously, can you think of a much better way to propose?? (Apparently, though, him in his new M&M boxers, me in my 10 yr old (actually really pretty) red negligee, wasn’t what he’d had in mind LOL)

But he’d had other, bigger plans but the snow storm had screwed with them. He’d planned on taking us out to dinner and doing it over dinner. Instead, we were half naked. I reminded him that we’d spent probably the majority of the last 11-1/2 years half naked, not all dressed up, so it was perfect.

He keeps asking me if I’m sure I like the ring, and if I don’t, we can go pick out something else. I told him the only problem I can foresee with the ring is finding a wedding band to go with it – as if THAT’s a problem LOL

I explained how the ring was competely secondary to the proposal, and how now I don’t care if we ever really get married, because now the INTENT is there, and that’s what really mattered to me. I know to some people, that might not make any sense. But to me, knowing that he (finally) picked ME is what matters most. Because I KNOW he only intends to do this (marriage thing) once. And the fact that it took him 42 years to find the right person to finally do that marriage thing with… well, it’s kinda neat

My first marriage happened because we both thought that was what we were supposed to do next. We’d met in middle school – dated from then on, with a year off for good behavior (ok, not so good on my part). We married 10 years from the day of our first date. La la la – story book, cutesy as all shit.

We’d been together 7 years straight on the day of our wedding. And the marriage lasted 4-1/2 years. This obviously was meant to be the only one, but it wasn’t for me anyways. He’s still single, but that’s a whole other blog entry lol

Anyways, that proposal went like this: at the 6-1/2 year mark (I was 22), I said to him “Ok, you’re either gonna marry me or we’re splitting up – you have 6 months to decide”.

6 months later, I asked him “Have you decided?”. He said “Well, I don’t want to split up”. (queue the wedding bells here) That was it. LOL

We were engaged.

We planned a big wedding, 200+ in attendance. It was a wonderful day, it truly was. But it was what we thought was supposed to happen next. Then we grew apart and shit happens. I got the official “Divorcee” thing stamped on my head 5 years later, a month after giving birth to my son (my honey’s son, not my ex’s) and my life was already on the next path.

Like the Rascal Flatts song, God Bless the Broken Road, I don’t regret my 1st marriage – it’s what led me to that next path- finding my honey. Spending the next 11-1/2 years not only getting to know him, but myself as well. Having my children – even if we did everything backwards LOL Knowing that at every hard twist and turn our lives have taken, we’ve taken them together. He’s not turned into an abusive prick (i.e #1), nor a boozer/pill popper. Yeah, he did his time as a jerk, but I have too. He’s an incredible father to our 2-1/2 kids, which was sometimes what kept us glued together when nothing else was. He’s generous and puts up with my goofy family

Does he have his quirks? Oh hell yeah.

But how could I have possibly turned down a proposal by a man in M&M Boxers (that actually say “You know you want me” or something like that LOL)?