Friday, August 29, 2003

This morning when I logged into blogger, I swore to myself I wouldn't look at the last date since I posted. Start with a fresh, white, bleach-y smelling screen. Ahh...reminds me of those mimeograph math sheets they handed out in second grade.

School started this week for the little one - I think we both did pretty good. She's been a little mopey and even a little smart-mouthed (my mother said "Welcome to parenthood, dear!" when I told her that part) when she comes home. I know there's worse things than having little kids not be friends with your little kid, but I can't think of any of them right now. I made sure she had a Tinkerbell backpack and a Barbie lunchbox, just to hedge her bets a little.

The first real day of school (the day before we went in for an hour to meet the teacher and make kindergarten-sized flowers) I took half a day off work to take her up to the playground. We waited for all the kids to line up outside their respective grades' doors. I could hear kid conversations flowing all around me; it all seemed so familiar. "Do you know if Brandon is coming back to school this year?" "No, he moved away." "Good - that kid was totally gross."

As 8:20 loomed closer, the kids lined up in front of the school. I started to notice that in the kindergarten line, all the kids' parents were standing with them. Were we all going to kindergarten, again? I decided my daughter would be fine to go in by herself, and as the kindergartners began to trickle past the principal, who was shaking all their little hands, I kissed her, told her to have a great time, and stood off to the side. There. I had released her into the wild.

I noticed that at this point I was the only parent stepping off to the side. ALL the other parents were marching into the kindergarten hall, with it's bright primary colors and wooden cubbies filling with backpacks and gym shoes. I was such the strong mommy, standing in the doorway, peering in at her but standing firmly outside the school doors. I thought for a split-second maybe I should run and catch up with her, in case the teachers were planning some big game with the parents and kids, and she needed me to be there. But I knew it was too late, and it didn't matter anyway. She would be fine. My heart felt bigger as I turned and walked away, knowing that I could probably cry about this if I was a little more emotional person, but I'm not.

There's a lot going on in her life right now; not only is she adjusting to kindergarten, but she also has to adjust to the daycare she's in while not in kindergarten. There's also a new baby on the way. My co-worker told me to think if it like this: what if your husband sat you down one day and said, "Honey, I'm bringing home a new wife. Don't worry, I'm still going to love you just as much as before. But I'm really going to need your help taking care of the new wife..." That made me stop and think about how we've been approaching the whole issue.

Right now she's at home with my mother, who drove in from Houston and got here yesterday. Hopefully it will give them some time to warm up to each other again - that ritual they go through after every long absence. I'm glad my mom's here, and can't wait for my dad to join her next week. But these type of situations can be sticky, so send some positive vibes our way.

Thursday, August 07, 2003

My "teeming ball of craziness" is sick. Again. And I feel I need to vent, yet have no one who would make a viable option, as all my close associates are related to either him or me. And telling my mother about what a pain in my ass my husband is just isn't a good idea - trust me on this one girls, keep you husband-complaining to a minimum when it comes to your mother.

So I find myself here.

Yesterday I hit the fifteen-week mark in my pregnancy. I'm feeling pretty good physically, but mentally frustrated and exhausted. I really did myself in yesterday reading a string on my mamby-pamby message board that I just can't stay away from. On one particular post, over 25 women detailed the greatest and most wonderful things their husbands do for them while they are pregnant. Now, there are plenty of other posts detailing drunk boyfriends who toss their girlfriends out while yelling profanities, so I usually feel pretty good about my SO (significant other, *groan*). So good, in fact, that I consider him one of the best when thinking about him in general terms.

But I've realized he really doesn't go out of his way to make my life any easier since I've become pregnant. Unless you count not playing as many video games. God, I'm torn between feeling like I'm being a silly spoiled girl and feeling like -- I don't knowwhat. Like I'm being punished for having a job that has regular hours where I sit at a desk all day, while he has a physically demanding job that won't allow him to use the phone.

These issues comes up over and over again in my mind - the fact that I do the cooking, the cleaning, and a good portion of the childcare. Plus paying bills, managing our investments and bank accounts, and all the other stuff that comes up.

I hate resentment. It's a dark, brooding feeling that pools in the back of my head and at the bottom of my throat and makes me ashamed and evil at the same time. Yet I can't help it. I can't help resenting him for putting us in this terribly precipitous financial position. He hasn't finished school. In fact, here's a list of things I resent my husband for:

  1. He's still in school, after 5 1/2 years.

  2. He won't graduate for at least another year.

  3. He attends an expensive private art college.

  4. He never registers until last minute, so we don't get student loan $$ until halfway through the semester.

  5. He makes crappy money, putting signs together.

  6. He left a job that paid him more money for doing design work to take the crappy-money, crappy-skills job.

  7. He gets hurt/sick regularly on the crappy-money, crappy-skills job.

  8. When he gets hurt/sick, he's extrememly moody.

  9. When he gets hurt/sick, I take up his slack, plus I'm expected to be extremely sympathetic (should that be two separate items?), lest more moodiness.

  10. When he gets hurt/sick, he doesn't work, and doesn't get paid.

  11. He puts his crappy art in my living room.

  12. We are broke and have less than perfect (see items #4 & #5), and all he can talk about is buying a car or new roof or something else that we obviously can't afford.

  13. I'm responsible for paying all the bills.

  14. If I insist that he be responsible for a bill, he forgets about it and doesn't pay it until we owe so much money in late charges and back payments that we're screwed.

  15. He borrows money from his dad to pay the bills that become seriously overdue.

  16. He lays in bed, then watches TV in the morning in his towel while I run around like a crazy (pregnant) woman, trying to get my makeup and hair done, plus get our daughter ready for school. When I ask him for help, he tells me he doesn't have time, throws on some clothes, and leaves.

  17. When I make myself breakfast (I have to eat eggs/protien or else I get sick), it's assumed I'll make him some too. He doesn't make breakfast because he doesn't have time, but I don't really either. I guess I just get up earlier to make time for it.

  18. I do all the laundry.

  19. I do all the cleaning.

  20. I do all the dishes.

  21. I do most of the cooking.

  22. He spends FOREVER in the bathroom.

  23. He's never ready to leave when everyone else is.

  24. He loses his keys/wallet regularly.

  25. He wakes me up in the middle of the night to "snuggle" or just lay like a 250 pound bag of cement on top of me.

  26. Every fucking night before we go to sleep, he asks me if I want a blowjob.

I'll come up with 10 more on the ride home from work.

Not surprisingly, this list has made me feel terrible, both from shame and pure anger. Perhaps I'll post a list of things that make him really cool. He does have those things going for him.

Friday, August 01, 2003

Wow. This really is America.