Tag Archive | marriage

RTLF #23 – So many things!

This week is chock full of things to be grateful for. Remember, this is my list. If it doesn’t coincide with yours, just kindly move along. I’m grateful we can agree to disagree. There.

Big election week. Duh. So I’m grateful for some outcomes. But most in particular is the Washington State referendum that allows same sex couples to marry. It doesn’t redefine marriage. It allows all people to have the same civil rights when it comes to marriage.

Anyway, we need to get over the definition of marriage. Over the centuries it has meant many different things. Such as:

In the Old Testament men had many wives. Women were property. Even in the 1800s women couldn’t own property, yet they were married off like it. In the south, first cousins married each other in arranged marriages.

Inter racial marriages were illegal up until the 1960s. Slavery had been outlawed for a hundred years but folks couldn’t marry outside their race. And it’s pretty obvious, you couldn’t marry a slave either, it says so in the Bible.

Let’s include all the non religious people have weddings all the time. Nobody makes a stink about that. So to say it’s a religious, biblical sacrament, just isn’t cutting it for me.

I have many gay friends. Some don’t want to get married. Hey, I get that. But those that do, now can. I think it’s wonderful. They aren’t clamoring for rights to kill puppies people. They are fighting for rights to love openly. How can that be bad?

I’m grateful for my mommy and daddy being well. They are getting old. We all are. But this week they had more Old People tests than normal. Mom had to have a second mammogram to check things out. Dad had some heart tests to confirm a few things.

But the news at the end of the week was good and all their tests came back clear. So I can breathe a little easier. And they can too. Which makes me happy knowing they are happy.

I love that my husband works his butt off for this family. We both do. But his working butt gets a paycheck. You could say my butt spends it. Okay, that was weird. But yeah, I’m so very grateful for the two checks a month we get to pay the bills, buy the food and maybe even a little extra for some treats. Not much extra. But that’s okay.

With the holidays coming it’s always stressful stretching the paycheck out over extra extra stuff. I love the festivity, I love feeling generous and grabbing as many giving tree tags as I can. But then I need to remember to budget myself. I’m grateful for the ability to take some of those giving tree tags to help other people in what little way I can.

So there you go. My list, my gratitude. My cup runneth over not just with tea, but with so much warm fuzzy love. I know, it’s disgusting.

Namaste.

Sex (or lack thereof) and the Married Couple

Or as I should call it, How 50 Shades of Grey ruined my sex life. That’s right. I said ruined. I know, I know- you’re like, ‘WTF FRUG, you were all gushing about it in your music video. Yeah, well, that was back then. Now, unless my husband reads those books, (has any guy read them?) or any other middle aged-mom-soft porn, I can forget getting hot and heavy like Ana and Christian did. My husband will never look at me with smoldering eyes, fingering one of his silk ties in his hands, while he strolls on over to me wearing ripped up jeans and carrying a riding crop, telling me to ‘hold still’.  Our idea of kinky is when one of us gets a neck cramp during ‘relations’.

Who the fuck has time for hot sex anymore?  I’m talking monogamous, happily married, tear off each other’s clothes, pretend like you haven’t been married for 15 years sex. My body isn’t a robot. I don’t have a ‘TURN ON’ switch. So if it isn’t the time of the month, fatigue, sciatic nerve spasms, gas from too much bread at dinner… it’s a miracle there’s any relations going on at all. Seriously, mom- this might be where you stop reading- or put your fingers in your ears ‘lalalalala…I can’t hear you.’

Is it nature’s job to just mess with us? And by us, I mean women. It’s not that I don’t want sex, necessarily (oh dear God, mother, I am so sorry), it’s just that the urge for it really is sporadic. Here is a typical cycle of my libido in any given week-

Monday night= staying up to catch up on DVR shows and blog. Plus, my crops in WeTopia are far overdue to be harvested. Hubs is asleep on the couch. #Sameoldstory.

Tuesday= 11 am, started reading a book/ article/ or was watching Last of the Mohicans on one of the Encore channels with Daniel Day Lewis wearing deer skin pants- the only movie he’s ever looked THAT good- and think- hmmm, if hubby was home right now I would SO tap that keg.

Tuesday night= hubby’s home- and awake, but I have gas from that new quinoa and white bean recipe I tried. Plus, I snarfed that bag of Doritos when no one was around earlier, so the MSG is bloating in my intestines. This equals unsexy for sure.

Wednesday = Hubby’s working from home but I’m feeling glum and sad over how my jeans don’t fit me after I take them out of the dryer. I wish he would give me a back rub. And by back rub, I mean, back rub. And bring me donuts.

Thursday= holy hell- was surfing the web for blog material and happened to come across a whole handful of hot guys which got me thinking how nice it would be if hubby was working from home today. But he’s not. Once again, two ships- different ports.

Friday night= fell asleep in front of my lap top at around 9:30 surfing the web for swim suits that will never fit me. Got distracted and started watching cute kitten videos on YouTube, but my eyelids were so heavy, so now I’m just snoring on the couch. Maybe hubs will carry me upstairs, undress me and put me in to bed, which will wake me just enough for me to be aroused and he’ll pleasure me luxuriously for hours. Wait. Scratch that. Hubs hasn’t picked me up EVER since I weigh as much as he does, and he sure as hell wouldn’t make it up the stairs carrying my fat ass, especially with his bum knee. Plus he’s fallen asleep on the couch while updating his roster for Fantasy Soccer.

Saturday= went out with girl friends and got all dolled up to impress other ladies and get hit on by men that don’t mean anything to me. Stumbled home around midnight and took some Advil and went to bed.

Sunday= still recovering from the night before’s outing. Hubs gives me THE LOOK while we are brushing our teeth getting ready for bed. I’m like, “What?”, He’s like, “hey there”. I’m all, “hey there yourself”. Put in my night guard, throw my hair up in a scrunchie and call it a night. 6:30 am isn’t waiting for nobody and Monday mornings are always hell trying to drag my sorry ass out of bed. So no nookie for you my dear. Sleep time.

And there you have the random week in the life of a married couple that wishes, just wishes, that Afternoon Delights, Hotel Sex, or Anniversary sex, could come during random times of the day, conveniently when there’s no time of the month, gassy stomach bloat, constipation, or children around to bother or in their case, be bothered. OR telemarketers or the Mother In Law calling, or the dog whining at the bottom of the bed.

Yep. I went there. My next blog will be- ‘Why you shouldn’t blog about your sex life and humiliate your ultra, introverted husband.’

Stay tuned.

50 Shades of Unrealistic Foreplay and (S)Expectations.

***SPOILER ALERTS****

Not that it matters. This book is not necessarily some M. Night Shyamalan movie that will be all messed up if you find out what happens at the end before you actually finish the book. Not to say the ending is anything special. AND, I think it’s safe to say, everyone pretty much knows what’s going on in these pages.

Here’s the 101-

50 Shades of Grey– smut/soft porn/ romance novel. I think what’s crazy about this book is how popular and main stream it is. Judy Blume and other authors have written some crazy sex shit in their novels too, and no one talks about it. This however, is all the buzz.

You saw my Music Video last week. You know I read the book and was obviously ‘distracted’ by it.

But let me break down to you where I call some serious ‘bull shit’ out to Ms. E.L. James and her big tease she calls a novel. This is not to say I didn’t enjoy the book. Which I did. Very much so. And after all you folks telling me you bought the book after seeing my video- Ms. James should thank me. I like Sephora gift cards- thankyouverymuch.

The author is married and has kids- so she obviously knows what ‘married’ sex is like. This book is after all, fantasy. And fantasy, means, we separate ourselves from reality. And yes, the characters in the book are not married. They hardly know each other. So the reality being that my husband will never play piano with his shirt off and send me texts and emails that are so witty and bantering, or tell me to eat my breakfast because he’s worried about me. HA HA! No sir-eee! One thing my husband has never had to tell me was, ‘to eat’!  I’m pretty good at doing that on my own. Nor will he buy me an Audi sports car and fill my closet with brand new clothes.

BAM- THIS is the fantasy ladies- A CLOSET FULL OF CLOTHES THAT FIT YOU PERFECTLY!!! Of all things in this book, this was my favorite. Does this Ana bitch know how lucky she is??? Oh my gosh- to never go in a dressing room with hideous florescent lights?? Heaven on earth!

Some points I would like to make as well-This is where some points of the book cause me to roll my eyes. And yes, if Mr. Grey caught me rolling my eyes, I’d get a spanking in the Red Room of Pain. Speaking of, I would not survive the ‘can’t roll my eyes’ clause thingy. Just get me a mini fridge and a futon in the Red Room of Pain, cuz I’ll be living there with my sarcasm.

When in the hell does Anastasia pee after sex??? All that massive thrusting and you know what– makes for a serious UTI. That’s Urinary Tract Infection, for those that don’t know the speak.

All I could think of was, ‘this girl better go pee here before she falls asleep or she’s going to have a raging bladder issue in the next 24 hours’.  And, you don’t automatically eliminate the risk of getting pregnant after taking your birth control pills for just 3 days for the first time ever in your life. PUHLEEZE!!

Then- the courtship of witty exchange, nuzzling with his hands in her hair, smelling her skin…. blah, blah, blah…. SERIOUSLY??

Unless you are on some tropical getaway with your husband to some remote island and you haven’t done it in ages so you’re ripping each other’s clothes off in your villa- it’s more like, ‘hey- do you need lube, watch my hair, your elbow is on it. Could you get me a pillow- my neck is cricked and oh, move the dog, she’s like, right next to me. Why is it so cold in here? Can you just make this quick, I’m not even taking off my t-shirt’.

You get the idea.

My husband is so preoccupied when he walks in the door. He doesn’t drop his laptop bag, throw down his Crackberry, grab me by the waist and pull my hair back to bring my mouth up to his and plant a deep kiss on me. If he did, I’d probably gripe about his scruff scratching my lip, tell him he shouldn’t leave his laptop bag there since one of the kids will trip on it, and ask where his commuter coffee mug is so I don’t forget to put it in the dishwasher overnight, and did he bring the sour cream I need for dinner that I texted him earlier about.

The character, Anastasia, tries to be all upstanding in her principles. Yadda, yadda, yadda. We get it. She can’t be a total floozy or we’d lose interest. There needs to be tension between the two characters. He wants to shower her with fancy things- she wants to make it on her own. Okay fine.

But seriously- I wanted to give her a head thump on the forehead through the book. Are you insane??? Take the guy’s offer!

Clothes that fit, a car that you will never have to take to Jiffy Lube for a tune up and wonder if you should go for the transmission flush AND the new air filter or not, since you are still paying for the new tires you had to put on back in January.

Clothes. I keep coming back to this, I know. Maybe it’s because I have dreams where I go in my closet and there are clothes I’ve never seen before with tags on. It seriously is the best dream ever. They are beautiful clothes that fit me and I don’t remember having to pay for them. I’ve had this dream since 7th grade. It just changes from stirrup pants of the 80s to pencil skirts and Manolo Blahniks of the present.

If my husband bothered to tie me up during sex, I’m pretty sure  both of us would fall asleep before we were finished. Leaving me still in the bonds. Which when I finally did wake up, he wouldn’t unstrap me and give me a massage on my shoulders like Christian does, I’d have to nudge him in the head to free me, which I’m sure he would (maybe). My hand will have fallen asleep so I’ll be walking around the room, waving it like a lunatic to regain blood flow, then stub my toe on the laundry basket over by the dresser that I can’t see in the dark. Then he’d roll over and steal the covers and double check that his alarm clock is set for the morning, while I remind him of the fact that tomorrow he needs to take the boy to Cub Scouts,  bring home cat litter and call his mother.

Christian in the book, doesn’t let Ana, touch him, but he does all kinds of ‘things’ i.e. caresses, spankings, massaging… to her. Okay, fine with me. Let HIM do all the work. Do any of you ladies know what the ‘race track’ is? It’s the figure 8 pattern your husband sleepily draws on your back when you’ve asked for a back rub and he lays there half asleep with one hand pitifully ‘massaging’ you.

Oh, and I almost forgot. Hired help to make breakfast. Another deal sealer in my book. Not having to do breakfast dishes, make the coffee and wonder if I remembered the milk… priceless.

This is some serious porn in my book.

So don’t get the wrong idea. Like, I said, this is fantasy. We want to escape when we read novels. And yes, I did, for the most part. But I guess I’m so firmly entrenched in my way of living, that all I could think of was the minutia of details. I’m thinking Christian puts his socks in the hamper. What do you think?

That's more like it.

Dear McSweetie

Oh, that is the cute name I call my dear husband. He’s like McDreamy on Grey’s Anatomy, but he’s mine and even cuter than Patrick Dempsey. Which is hard to be, cuz that Patrick is FINE.

When I get the urge to write something like this, I pretty much drop everything and do it. Not always do I feel like a warm and devoted housewife. Often I feel like a cold-hearted bitch with a bone to pick. And by bone, I mean big ol’ fish to fry, burr in my craw, chip on my shoulder the size of Lisa Rinna’s top lip. SOO, I am in a good mood and was thinking fondly of the ol’ ball and chain. So I thought I would dedicate this little ditty to him.

Dear McSweetie-

It’s been 15 years that we have been married come this August. I can’t believe how time flies. And although you are not perfect by any means. And by ‘not perfect’, I mean, have no clue how to empty the dishwasher or load it.  You pretend you still don’t know where stuff goes in the cupboards even though we’ve lived here ten years, and things haven’t changed really- at all. You don’t know how to put your dirty socks IN the clothes hamper. You can’t seem to get your beard and neck hairs out of the sink or away from MY toothbrush. You seem to miss the garbage can while clipping your toenails. BUT- even with ALL those little flaws, I thank you for putting up with MY flaws.

Yes- shocker. I have them. You know this, but THEY might not know this. (THEY, are my blog readers honey, pretend we have an audience.) Okay- so here goes. Thank you for not picking on me for the following:

Wearing socks to bed every night of the year (even in summer except when it’s reallllly hot, like 85 degrees or something). Remember my orange socks of our early wedded years? I should’ve kept those. They were so thick and cozy. And orange.

Wearing the rattiest, saggiest pajamas to bed every night. I can’t sleep in the nude OR one of the various Victoria Secret nighties you’ve bought for me over the years. Sorry those only see day light when I bring them with us if you and I go away for an outing overnight that involves a hotel. Hotel nooky = sassy night gowns. Wearing that at home would mean that I would have to go through the trouble of changing out of them before morning came. Because getting the kids ready for school in satin and lace is just gross and weird. And itchy. So I’m not going to even bother. PJs it is. Sorry.

Wearing the same pair of lounge pants three days in a row  and not wearing any makeup despite the Sephora store that is practically our bathroom. Geesh, I’m lazy.

Never mentioning that my legs feel like a cactus since I haven’t shaved since September.

Not complaining over the bajillion products and lotion bottles that cover our bathroom counter top.

Having to see my lady bits when I birthed our children. I know you asked not to be down there. Cuz being ‘down there’ when they’re conceived is really different than when those watermelons are coming down the pike. There’s poop, there’s goo, there’s tearing.  Oh lawd, even I didn’t look when they offered the mirror. So I’m sorry. That must’ve been real hard for you. I’m also sorry I didn’t let you play with my milk jugs after the babies were born. I know I must’ve resembled someone out of Hustler magazine, but considering my boobs felt like flesh that had been twisted in a vice that was so sensitive even air hurt when it touched them- you didn’t have a chance.

Thank you for letting me complain how messy the garage is, but not saying anything to me about how ransacked the pantry looks.

Not complaining when I’ve been home all day, didn’t make dinner, and then ask you to pick something up.

You give me the remote.

Pretending that you don’t realize how many shoes and purses I actually have.

And who would have thought, the kids call you the 'goofy one'!

That’s all I can think of for now.  I’m sure I will add to this list soon. Despite the fact my flaws are so few and far between

xoxo

Love,

Hot babe

(okay, that isn’t what he calls me, I just think it’s what he thinks of me)

I think this is what is called, irony.

I hate when I’m wrong. When I’m right, I like to rub it in. Nicely, but rub it in good. Saying I TOLD YOU SO, is very gratifying. Especially in marriage.

Irony-

Origin of IRONY

Latin ironia, from Greek eirōnia, from eirōndissembler

First Known Use: 1502
plural iro·nies

Not this kind of irony.

Definition of IRONY

a (1) : incongruity between the actual result of a sequence of events and the normal or expected result (2) : an event or result marked by such incongruity b : incongruity between a situation developed in a drama and the accompanying words or actions that is understood by the audience but not by the characters in the play —called also dramatic irony, tragic irony

Here’s the shiz– I got a speeding ticket in the school zone at Emma’s middle school. Craptastic. It has one of those flashing school zone lights with the auto camera that flashes if you go over the speed limit and they mail you the ticket. When it was first installed James got a warning mailed to him. Boy did I ride him on that one. And don’t get your bloomers in a bunch- I nagged him incessantly on why he needs to heed to the 20mph law for that strip of road. It’s a school zone for pete’s sake, they don’t put those signs up for nothing, I yelled.

So what happens? An envelope comes in the mail that HE opens (I need to get the mail first apparently) and was actually feeling guilty thinking it was his (the cars are registered in his name). He politely says, ‘the Honda Odyssey was photographed in front of the school on Dec. 8 at 2:38 pm going 29 in a 20’.

Curse you camera ticketer machine thingy!

Curse you camera-ticketer-machine thingy!

I wanted to answer, ‘oh, that was the day some punks took the minivan for a joyride and happened to drive by the school’.  But instead, I just looked at him and said, ‘yeah, so?’

Hubs- “looks like it won’t go on your driving record and will just be a parking infraction.”

Me (nonchalantly)- “oh, lucky me. How ironic since I always nag you about that huh?”

Hubs- “yep, surprised it was you not me.”

Me- “aren’t you going to rub it in?”

Hubs- “no”

I hate when he’s the better man. Dammit.

So then I said, “the good news is I returned the library books that were way over due and they were going to charge us for and they found the one that was turned in but they thought was missing and were going to make us pay for, so really my money is just going to the city anyway.” (okay, our library is a County library, but give me a flippin’ break)

The point is- What I thought I saved in library books fees, I owe in speeding tickets.

And gosh darn it, James is nicer when it comes to rubbing stuff in my face. So there. I said it.

'Slow down ma'am, this is a school zone'