Mortified

We have a clean house. We live in a nice area. We have a nice yard, not too big, not too small. But we live in the country and I guess that's where rats live too. They know how to make their way into our crawl space under our house. My husband put rat poison out and they took the bait. The only problem is they were in the crawl space when they died. Whether they ate it in the crawl space or ate it outside and then got into the crawl space, who knows. But regardless these things keep dieing in our crawl space and the smell of them is more than one person, let alone 2 adults and one child should have to bare. Maybe my nose is just too sensitive and it's really not as noticable as I think it is. But to me it's awful. We found one body, and the smell went away, but now the smell is back and my husband has looked in the crawl space numerous times and can't find another dead rat carcass.

I am mortified. I don't want people at our house until it's gone. I guess someone could possibly mistake the smell of the decaying rat for the kitty litter box, and I'm constantly now burning candles which do a pretty good job of covering the smell. I suppose the decaying bodies will disintegrate eventually, right? So there's that! But until then I am left to smell that nasty thing.

I hate that we have a rat problem. We do not live in the ghetto in the middle of a city...why are they taking refuge in our house? It's so frustrating and it's mortifying to even think about them. Arggghhhhh!!!

My Secrets

I have several secrets, that I really want to share, but really can't do it on my own blog. But getting them 'out there' is something I wanted to do. Maybe it will spark some discussion or posts on the blog? So here goes:

-I sometimes wish I had married my college boyfriend.
-I sometimes think about cheating.
-I am not that interested in sex.
-I find ex's on social networking sites and just check up on them every once in awhile.
-I totally pick my nose.
-If I could, I would travel to Europe, by myself.
-If I were single, I would have casual sex, and probably with both sexes.
-I have thought about suicide.

Anyone care to share?

This me I have become

I don't know how much longer I can hold on.
My marriage to you is a mess. I realize that people change, marriages change, children change you. I get that. What I don't get is this constant aggression, anger, competition. You always have to be right, prove you're right, prove a point...you always have to win, be on top, and get the last word. I can't keep being your stomping ground. I am so tired of being your rag doll. I say something, and you immediately argue the other side of it, when I don't even want to argue. When did we stop having normal conversations?
When did it become okay for you to talk to me like I'm a piece of shit? Like I'm someone you pay to be your spouse? When did you get so arrogant? So hard-headed? So mean-spirited?
Thankfully, you aren't this way with our child. You have these reserves, somewhere in your tired heart, for our child. If you ever ever do to her what you do to me, I will be gone before you can blink.
You crush me with your words. But more so, you crush me with your silence. And what's worse, you know you are doing it. You have no problem shutting down and acting as though my words mean nothing-like our marriage means nothing.
I don't understand. What did I do? Stay with you the three previous times you tore my heart out, spit on it, and stomped out all the love inside of it? I accepted your apology each time, took you back into my arms, learned to trust you again.
This last time was different. A part of me will never trust you again. And now, after almost three years, I am seeing why I don't completely trust you: you will never love me like you used to-you will not have my best interests in mind when you do all the things you do.
I realize that we have a pattern: every year, around this time, you shut down, and shut me out. You become emotionless (0ther than anger) and our home becomes cold. I know it's because of your uncle's death. I know this. Yet...
I just can't handle it anymore. Every year, I can expect this? Every year, I can expect you to shut me out, shut me down, and push me away? For what?
In everything, I am the one person who has never pushed you away or denied you love. How can you forget this? How can this mean nothing?
I don't understand you. I don't understand me. Why do I continue to stay? Why do I keep praying that your heart will soften, that your words will soften, that you will let me love you and love me in return? Why?
If I leave, you will become an absolute prick. More than you are being now. And honestly, that doesn't scare me anymore. What??-Are you going to ignore me more than you do now? Are you going to make fun of me, taunt me, bait me, refuse to kiss me (but then ask for a blow job)???? How would that be any different than our marriage?
I want peace. I want explanations for your awful, hurtful behavior. I don't want an apology anymore, although I deserve one. I just want it to stop. I just want our slate to be wiped clean, and a promise of a new beginning as a couple, not as two people who co-exist in the same house, share the same bed.

Are you dying or what??

Ever since I've known my wife, she seems to be dying. Okay...maybe not DYING per se, but there is ALWAYS some health issue that she HAS to tell me about. It might be her eyes (Are they red? I think I have cataracts!) to her head (I think I have a migraine coming on!) to her ankles (My ankles are fat. Is there corrective surgery for that?) to her stomach (Ugh...my stomach aches today. Maybe I should see a gastroenterologist.) If there is an ache or a pain, she's got it and she has to complain about it. Seriously, it would be nice just one morning to see her get out of bed without any issues. But after 14 years...I doubt that is EVER gonna happen.

First

It was a Valentine ’s Day, warm and sunny, excitement rippling through the patio as everyone went round bellowing about the flowers each had exchanged. We sat there, my friends behind you, wanting to know what was happening, your friends behind me, coaxing you into doing it.

I had been waiting for so long and finally the moment came. Finally, after all those months of yearning, you asked.

“Yes” I replied, shyness betrayed in my voice. I was delighted, elated that you had done it on this precise day. In my 13 year old mind, it was entirely romantic. “Are you sure?” you ventured in a small voice. It shocked me. What did you mean by that, how could you not be immediately excited by my answer? My expression must have shown my outrage because you quickly added “I want you to think about it, I mean, I don’t want you to change your mind later”. I wanted to tell you that I had already thought about it. That it had been 3 months since I knew I liked you and you liked me and I had been waiting for this moment for ages. But I obviously didn’t. I just sighed. “I’m sure”. I said, smiling. “Really”.

You were my first boyfriend. You were always quite blunt and shocking. You used to tell me things just to watch my bafflement and reaction. I had no idea what to do about you, but it did not matter. You were exciting.

There is one day I remember with the most fondness. We were walking across the Shopping Centre. That place where all of us went on Friday afternoons to casually meet; boys and girls enjoying our precious freedom, afternoons away from the prodding eyes of our parents. You and I lagged behind, agreeing to meet the others by the ice cream store in 10 minutes. All of a sudden, as if in slow motion, your fingers touched mine and in an instant I felt a delicious zap of energy rippling furiously through my arm. It was all wrong -you were a lot taller than me, and my hand twisted under yours uncomfortably- but I did not dare to let go for fear it would not happen again. It was such an intense feeling; it spread all over the place, every cell in my body responding to this new experience. This was the first time a boy held my hand and it was so much better than I ever imagined it could be. I don’t know why I reacted this way, maybe I had been reading too many young adult romances.

Our relationship only lasted about 3 months. We were too different, too young. I broke your heart, and for a long time you seemed to hate me. But I would like you to know that I have never felt that instant zap again. I have felt other things, also lovely and intense when I have had other ‘firsts’, but that electricity was unique. Thank you for giving me that. I will always remember it.

It's been 3 weeks....But Who's Counting?

Flashback to Saturday night. I took my wife out for a nice dinner. We had great conversation. Had a couple of drinks. All was going well and I thought I might get lucky (we're 7 years into our marriage). It's been a little over 2 weeks since our last time, so considering that and how the evening was going, I thought it was a lock. But alas...it was not to be. She got into bed, turned out the light and rolled over. The end. Or so I thought.

I couldn't get to sleep. I was a little steamed about how this all went down and couldn't sleep, so I got out of bed and went and watched t.v. to help me go to sleep. Next morning she asks me where I went. I tell her what I did and she starts accusing me of having an Internet girlfriend! I didn't say it but all I could think was "I wish!" Anyway, turns out she WAS in the mood, but I just didn't pursue it. Uh...SHE ROLLED OVER AND DIDN'T DO ANYTHING?!?! How was I supposed to know that she was ready to go??? So that hung in the air all day.

That night, I get in bed and she follows and starts reading her book. Now...I'm not the brightest guy, but I figure after last night, we're due for some makeup sex...right? Well...I'm an idiot and I drift off while she's reading. But she finally turns off the light at around midnight and I wake up. She rolls over. So I'm thinking..."Should I try something? Or am I too late?" So I start making noises to let her know I'm awake. Shifting around, tossing in bed, all the usual tricks. Nothing. Damn.

Around 1pm she "wakes" up and goes to the bathroom. There's a chance! So after she comes back, I make my move. I put my hand on her back. Nothing. Then I move my hand down to her leg. She sits straight up and says, "Just go get the KY and let's get this over with!"

Soundly defeated and pissed off, I slept on the couch last night. It won't be the last night either. 3 weeks and counting...and still not an end in sight...

My sister is a complete nut job.

No really, she is. We grew up in the same house, have the same parents, were taught the same lessons, etc. But I’m really starting to wonder what has happened to her. I could go on and on about my sister, but this particular subject has me so bent out of shape I had to vent.

My sister, Susan, has two beautiful children. Let’s call them Brittney (6) and Kyle (1). Brittney and Kyle’s birthdays are a mere 18 days apart. I asked Susan what her plans were for their respective birthdays because she lives out of town and I needed to start making plans for the trip to see them. My sister then informs me that they will be ‘combining the kids’ birthdays this year…it would just be easier that way.’ Are you kidding me? Her logic is that the same people will be coming to both birthdays anyway so why not just send out one big invite and let everyone come all at once?

Am I the only one that has issue with this? I mean, asking my poor niece to share her 7th birthday with her little brother? Granted, Kyle is still too young to care, but he WILL know what a birthday is all about by his 3rd. And according to my sister, all Brittney will get next year is a couple of her friends to come over and spend the night. No party. Nothing. Why would an 8-year-old little girl want a party anyway? OMG!

Growing up, birthdays were always a HUGE deal in our family. It was YOUR day. You didn’t have to share it with anyone else. Out of all the days in the year, your birthday was yours alone. You got to pick what you wanted for your birthday dinner, what kind of cake you wanted, and so on. We didn’t have the money for a huge party with all the entertainment, party favors, and decorations you see these days. But I always got to do something that I wanted, and I certainly never had to share my day with my sister.

I’m still in total shock that Susan is doing this, and she thinks it’s ok. Lack of money isn’t the issue, it’s strictly done out of convenience. At least I hope that’s what it is. I mean, certainly no mother could be that oblivious to the importance of a birthday for their own child(ren). Is it fair for my sister to be forcing her kids to share their birthday only because it is more convenient for her? Is it right that she is taking away the only day that belongs to these precious children? Am I just being totally irrational about this?