Recent events have turned me into a not altogether pleasant person. I am worried sick about Monkey; there is a story forthcoming about The House That Will Not Sell that sort of makes me want to punch myself in the face because, honestly, there should be a limit to the number of times a person can whine about such things, but mostly I want to punch my realtor in the face (hint: he is “just as frustrated” as I am about the current situation, he likes to assure me); work is a little stressful right now (ha! ha! just a little!); and next week I have to go have an MRI because I DON’T HAVE ENOUGH TO WORRY ABOUT. So.
This results in things like sitting on the couch with Otto in the evenings, being not nearly so interested in the Red Sox as I ought to be because I’m busy working on my laptop, and whining a lot.
This morning Otto and I went out to breakfast in an attempt to have a little bit of Quality Time, and I tried to set aside my general hatred for the world and be a good wife. I concentrated on the healing power of good coffee (I had a mexican mocha… mmmmm) and we were having a fun, lighthearted conversation and then eventually more serious conversation and finally the kind of discussion about What’s Going On where I try very hard not to cry, because we’re in public, but I am just worried and tired and sometimes I would like to take a vacation from being a grown-up, please.
Otto was his typical understanding self, and as our discussion wound down to a logical stopping point I thought to myself how lucky I am to have this rock of a man who understands me, who is the steady calm to my frantic emotions, who will buy me a nice coffee and sit across from me and listen to me go over the same things we’ve already been over again and again, looking for a solution.
There was a lull and I smiled at him, full of gratitude.
He leaned in closer.
“I have a bone to pick with you,” he said. For a second I thought he was joking, but he wasn’t. This was something serious, and in a brief panic I tried to figure out what I might’ve done. Used up his shaving cream? Forgotten to buy raisin bran? Turned all of his socks pink in the laundry? He is so good to me, and I’ve done… something. Something bad.
“O… kay…” I stammered, trying to hold it together.
“You’ve been complaining for months that we don’t have any wedding pictures printed. Yesterday I went and picked up prints, and I took one of the four of us and framed it and put it right on the top of the entertainment center, RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE. You walked past it four or five times, and sat in front of it for hours last night, and YOU HAVEN’T NOTICED.”
I pondered this.
He threw his hands in the air. “YES!”
“Oh. I. Thank you! I’ve… been a little distracted….”
And it’s true, I have, but to miss an 8″ x 10″ framed print from our wedding sitting at eye-level in the living room? That takes TALENT.
I started laughing, and whatever indignation Otto had been drawing upon dissipated a bit as he joined me, and I’m sure he will torment me about this into my old age—AS WELL HE SHOULD—but I demanded that we go home immediately so that I could look at the picture, and so we did.
It’s an excellent picture. Major husband points for Otto.
I’ll try to pay a little more attention, next time. Although smacking me on the forehead is always an option, too.
What? That sounds entirely normal to me. Heck, my Children are capable of not seeing large loads of laundry ON THEIR BEDS (yes, to my shame at least once there has been laundry slept on), enormous piles of books pointedly placed in the middle of their doorway where they can trip on them and ginormous signs saying “please would someone squeeze out the darn sponge after they use it instead of leaving it smelly and moldering for me to find in the sink thx mwa Mom.” Mom distraction due to excessive stress and worry is nothing in comparison.
I still prescribe large quantities of very good chocolate though. And even larger quantities of Time With Otto ’cause it sounds like that’s the best medicine all around.
OK. I know this sounds really strange, but last night I dreamed I was trying to sell my house. And my realator…was a lemur. Seriously.
Oh, Otto sounds dreamy.
Good luck with the MRI, whatever it may be for.
And I’m glad you posted this morning. I finally had to stop hitting refresh on your site and take a shower, but I checked back and here you were.
Not that there’s any pressure.
I thought I was going to go have to kick some Otto butt (sorry, Otto) for picking a bone with you when you ALREADY have so much going on, BUT, I guess I’ll let it slide this time. ;)
You are such…an adult!
A very high intensity (note I did not say maintenance) one at that.
I hope the fact that the cavalry is on the way isn’t an additional stress.
Kudos to Otto.
You definitely need a vacation honey. Try to take care of you. xo
You and I can go on vacation away from adulthood together. I want someone else to come in and clean up my mess, because obviously I can’t!
Otto sounds like a wonderful husband. I’ve gotten the ‘uh, didn’t you notice’ speech before too. Perhaps we have a genetic abnormality.
Sorry things are so challenging right now. Hope there are improvements on all fronts soon.
P.S. Funny aside…my husband used the “I have a bone to pick with you” comment this week, too. Like you, I immediately began running through a mental list, trying to think what I could have done. It seems he was in a meeting, looked down, and noticed I had paired a navy sock with a black sock…oh, the horrors! (And I’ll probably be hearing about this for awhile, too.)
I have a bone to pick with you…you are not taking care of yourself. I think it is a wife/mommy epidemic. I suffer from the same illness. I swore to my hubby and kids last night that I am running away and never coming back…okay, maybe for a week. Now I just have to make good on my threat. But I’d miss them too much. I mean, what would we do with a week of 24/7 to ourselves? The thought of it frightens me!
Sometimes I would like to take a vacation from being a grown-up, please.
Amen, sister. I feel that way a lot… Sigh…
I can’t believe you missed an 8×10 picture. Definitely points to Otto, though. You’ll get through this, Miss Mir. You can do it! :D (/pithy meaningless clichÃ©s. Wow redundancy.)
Actually, MRIs can be very relaxing. ;) I had one at a point when my daughter was two and we had stressful stuff going on and I thought, “WOW. I can just lay here and–okay, listen to the clacking of the big machine–but nobody’s going to ask me to get them juice or anything like that.”
Be good to yourself, okay? :)
If you figure out a way to hit the pause button, let me know ‘kay?
Can I PLEASE run away with you and stop being an adult??? It is WAY overrated! Does it not make you cringe when you stop and think how hell bent we all were on getting here as quickly. as. possible? Oh, the irony…
I like the idea of MRIs being relaxing.
My husband had to physically point me at the ginormous bouquet of roses he had delivered to our cabin on our honeymoon cruise because some how I missed it. I love your Otto stories, he sounds like a keeper.
My son sounds just like Monkey (without the 504). Sensory issues up the yingyang (maybe that can be a spelling word)– foods, sounds, clothing tags. He doesn’t yell as much as shriek-cry and when I make him eat his dinner the neighbors must think I’m beating him. This last week has been a fright. He came home yesterday and his sweatshirt was soaked. Not from rain but from licking. He was licking his clothes! (Not the first time.) So, my question is: Is it seven-year-old boy freak out week? Full moon? What????
oh my. . . . laughing through tears here, Mir. . . . You do indeed have TALENT. And I have very high hopes for Otto, as well.
Way to go.
Glad you’re focused on what’s important! (my best wishes to all four of you).
I used to turn my 8×10 school picture upside-down on my parents fireplace mantle and leave my brothers alone… to PROVE that they loved him more than me! Because they never noticed until I pointed it out. Maybe they were overwhelmed? Huh. Nah – they loved my brother more than me.
i like how otto tries to get your mind off of the heavy stuff for a bit. sounds like something my hubby would do, too.
i think we should keep them. (and since i’ll be needing the diaper changing help in 3-5 weeks, you better believe i’m not getting rid of him right now!)
I thought you decided this days ago – have your fit already! It’s okay with us. ;)
Sending you a hug with my freakishly long arms!
mexican mocha! i hope it had tequila in it!
Awww….that was sweet of him!
Wedding pictures, shmedding pictures. You went to lunch with me and didn’t notice a ten-inch wide pan of fresh-baked brownies.
Clearly you ain’t right. ;)
Lordy. I’m so glad it was something nice, like the wedding picture, instead of an actual, pain-in-the-ass bone. Take care of yourself, pretty Mir. I’m sending cheerful mocha-coffee-enjoying, wedding-picture-admiring, 504-ignoring-school-ass-kicking, pesky-house-selling vibes your way.
Mir, I’ve got to laugh right along with you! So cool of Otto to do that. I hope the weekend finds you some relaxation and that next week gets better than this week. I think wine might help. Just sayin’. :)
Lemur Realtor!!! Lemur realtor!!! Oh, Kim, you just made me snort at work!!!
(Still praying for you, lovely Mir.)
Overlooking an eye-level recently-framed photo of the family sounds exactly like something I might do.
My kids sometimes resort to leaving paperwork to be signed on my keyboard because it is the ONLY place that I am guaranteed to notice. Leaving it on my chair? Nope. Have sat on forms that way.
Your breakfast date with your Otto sounds terrific, BTW. Must schedule one with my husband one of these days. Breakfast in our house usually is not complete without random (cross-floor) yelled reminders over Cheerios.
Here’s hoping for a wonderful, relaxing weekend where you and Otto can care for your children the way they need to be cared for and hopefully reset some of the wrongs from this week.
Sounds like you’ll have more adults around to help pull the rope this weekend. Have a great one!!
Hi Mir! I just finished reading your archives late last night. You amaze me!! You are so talented and gifted in your writing (and parenting, and being a wife). Thank you for sharing bits of your life – I can really relate with much of what you share. Know that you aren’t walking the road alone! I look forward to more posts and (if I can add this since you have no idea who I am) I am pulling for you.
Tell Mr Mir that it is my fault – all of my ranting about patriarchy has made you immune to wedding photos. Heh.
Otto sounds like a gem!
And he’s lucky to have you, too.
AWww – I know the feeling. We’d love to see the wedding photos!
My darling husband did this once, but instead of a picture, it was a mountain bike (5th anniversary present). Which sat next to the TV set – which he was watching – for 45 minutes before I exploded. He was a leetle embarrassed. So you are in good company.
I’m SO glad you have Otto in your life.
((((Mir))))) more prayers and hugs for everything that is going on, especially the MRI (I hate those things, had more than I care to).
Hang in there.
Now that is a keeper.
Unfortunately unrelated to the topic at hand, I just wanted to say that I love your writing and look forward to your posts every day. I’m stuck off in the middle of nowhere right now, and they are a bright spot in my day whenever they pop up on bloglines.
I hope things get better soon.
A vacation from being an adult would be lovely right now. Can I join you?
I am sorry things are stressful for you right now. I hope everything goes well with the MRI, and that things start falling into place soon for you, and also for me.
I know just how you feel. Our house was on the market for THIRTEEN MONTHS before we ever got an offer. It’s very frustrating. Now that we’re in the new house, I wish I would’ve taken it as a sign and taken it off the market. I miss my old house! :(
I’m coming out from hiding here. I’ve been reading your site for quite awhile. Been enjoying it too! Felt compelled to comment here. I’ve two children. Boys, one is twenty-two, one is sixteen. I’m a young mother, had my first when I was just twenty my husband was twenty-two. We are still together and marvel at how far we’ve come. I took a week last month just to get away. What does my sixteen year old say on the phone after two days? Mommy, you are missing my childhood, come home!! I feel your pain.
Oh Mir, honey, all’s good even for us that are going mildly insane. Otto’s so much like my Sean that it’s scary. But, despite all our faults (which, come on, are they REALLY faults when we’re this stressed?) they love us still and that’s what a good marriage is all about.
Hahaha… this made me smile because the same sort of thing happens to me, except normally I’m in a full blown fit of convincing myself what a wonderful wife I am and how accomplished I am as a mother. Then the world comes over and smacks me sideways and I realize that there are actually other people around me… um, so maybe not the same sort of thing.
This is priceless……every husband dreams of being able to do this to his wife once in a while.