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Category Archives: marriage

One. Day.

I wake up cold. I roll over and hit my phone, because it’s beeping. Incessantly. That doesn’t stop it, so I sit halfway up in the bed and fiddle around with it until it stops making that horrible noise.

I look at the time and mumble, “Five more minutes.”

I roll over to shake my husband awake and my hand lands on the cold bed. He’s not there. I sit up, yell out his name before I realize that he doesn’t live here anymore. In my near-sleep state, I’d forgotten. Again.

The shock hits me anew, like it does almost every morning. My body shakes and I fight back the urge to scream and throw something.

No, not because we’re getting a divorce, because we aren’t.

Rather, I feel cheated.

Absolutely cheated.

I miss my husband so much that it hurts. I want to talk to him every second of every day. I have heard my entire life that the whole “obsessive” crazy thing wears off after the first two years of marriage, after the first kid is born, after the first time you walk in on the other using the bathroom, after you gain weight. All of these lines have been crossed, sometimes by accident, but they’ve been crossed.

We’ve been married almost 7 years and I want nothing more than to crawl in to bed next to him, tangle myself in his blanket and snuggle up next to him.

I want nothing more than his kids to be able to jump on him in the morning, giggling with glee at waking their daddy up.

I want nothing more than our lives to, for once, be normal and completely and totally in sync with one another.

For some reason, whether it’s Fate or God or just us being stupid, this doesn’t seem to happen for us. Being married isn’t easy for us.

It’s hard work.

To try to keep up the smiles, the happiness in the face of overwhelming sadness and depression, and to keep up the “normal” feeling of having a happy “home” in the same state.

I feel like I can’t tell him any of this, and it’s driving me insane.

I know, I know, there are many wives out there that have to live with the fear of having someone tell them their husband passed away during war. I lived with this fear for a while, although he hasn’t deployed since we’ve been worried, the possibility was always in the back of my mind, and I thank God every day that he decided to get out of the Army and think of his family.

I know, I know, there are many things worse than only seeing him for one week a month.

I get told this everyday by people that are just trying to make me see the glass as half full.

But, once, I’d just like for someone to see it as half empty with me, because although I have empathy for all the bad things that happen to other people, sometimes? I just want to feel bad for me. For my kids. For my husband. For my family.

So, yeah, I get it, things suck for everyone. But today? I just want to focus on how much things suck for me. Just for today, ok?

I just need that one day.


Halloween Costumes & Presents

We finally tried on the costumes. By “we” — I mean “the kids” tried on their costumes, cuz Mama don’t dress up.

As you can see, the costumes are adorable.

And the costumes seem to fit well.

Now to the “presents” part of my title. My birthday is next month and it’s kind of a big one (25) — so my wonderful, adorable, great husband has decided that buying me presents now is a good idea, as well as buying me presents then.

Do I mind this? Hell to the no. I do not mind.

This is what I got yesterday:

Isn’t it PRETTY? You know what it is? It’s a model of the solar system. In the form of a bracelet.

I’m a geek, and I embrace it.

Apparently, so does my husband.



I’m in love with the “new town” — as the kids so fondly call it. I mean, in LURVE. I love it so much I would marry it, ya know, if I wasn’t already married. And if it were legal to marry a town.

Which I’m kind of glad it isn’t.

But, since I’m fairly exhausted (moving is hard, y’all) and I’m ready to go to bed, here are some random things that have been said since we’ve moved to the “new town”:

Thing 1: Mommy, is there a potty in this house?
Me: No, you have to use the outside.
Thing 1: Oh. Okay.
Thing 2: I don’t know ’bout that.
[SN: Rest assured, dear readers, there is a potty in this house]


Thing 1: We can stay in this town, Daddy. I saw the Wal-Mart today, so we’re okay.


Me: I love Albertson’s so much that I want to have it’s babies.
Husband: You just want to have babies with pretty much anything, don’t you?
Me: If you gave me bread, milk and a basketful of groceries for $30 — I’d have your babies too.
Husband: ….[blank stare]…..
Me: Oh, wait, scratch that.


Me: I don’t want to take a class where they tell me stupid things.
College Adviser: We don’t have classes like that here, dear, this is a college. We teach smart things here.
Me: Oh, that’s not what I meant. I meant things that….nevermind.
College Adviser: I’m not sure where you were going with that … so let’s move on…shall we?
[SN: Have I ever told y’all how incredibly stupid I am when I get little sleep? No. Shining example right there.]


Husband: (on phone, to me) Where are you?
Me: (driving on interstate, towards him) On the thing. With the … gray…. yellow stripes?
Husband: Interstate?
Me: Yep.


Me: Thing 1, where are your socks?
Thing 1: I don’t want to wear socks.
Me: That’s not what I asked.
Thing 1: I gave up socks. [shrugging shoulders]
Me: I’m not sure what you mean.
Thing 1: Socks are bad, like the debbil, so I stopped talking to them.


Me: Thing 2, which room do you want?
Things 2: Which one does [Thing 1] want?
Me: I don’t know, he’s not here yet.
Thing 2: Can we call him?
Me: No. Why?
[later….when Thing 1 & The Husband get home……]
Thing 1: I want this room [pointing at room].
Thing 2: You can’t have it, that’s MY room, [pointing at other room] that’s also my room.
Thing 1: I have to have a room!
Thing 2: Mommy told me I could have yours cuz you weren’t here yet.
Me: [beating head on wall]


The Husband: Hey baby, tomorrow I might have to go out on a job.
Me: Ok. When will you be back?
The Husband: I dunno.
Me: Did you ask about your benefits package?
The Husband: No. I forgot.
Me: Did you ask about a schedule?
The Husband: No. I forgot.
Me: Did you ask any important questions?
The Husband: I asked what my pay was, that’s important, right?
Me: [beating head against wall]

Yes, we’re crazy, but we’re also crazy.


My husband? Is totally crazy.

I’m baby crazy. Seriously. To begin with, I probably have 1000 diapers right this second, packed away in a box, waiting to be used. I also have over 20 packages of wipes. My husband has gotten pretty used to me asking for a baby something or another if I find something on sale. Today I found these:

For a whole $1.74 (Amazon price: $3.99) at Smiths. There were only four left (bummer) because I *LOVE* these little packages. They have smaller-than-travel sized baby stuff in it, which I throw in the diaper bag so that I have all of it on hand.

In any event, our conversations on baby stuff goes this way:

Me: Oh! Oh! Oh! *insert girly squeal* I really, really want to get this. Can I get this? Please?
Husband: What is it?
Me: *insert some baby something here*
Husband: But, do we need it?
Me: It’s on sale! Look — $500000000* off! What a steal!
Husband: Well. Ok, grab it.
Me: You know, we’re not even pregnant.
Husband: Yeah, I know.
Me: You are so awesome.
Husband: Yeah, I know.

He may be crazy awesome. But me? I’m just crazy.


*I have never found ANYTHING for  $500000000 off retail price. Yet.


I? Have a strange taste in music. Not so much strange as….just all over the place. Seriously.

For example, I freaking adore this song:

And I don’t skip over this one on my MP3 player:

This one is my new jam:

It drives my husband crazy.

Not that song (I dunno if it drives him crazy he hasn’t heard it yet).

It drives him crazy in a funny way that I like music the way I do, because I’m bad about skipping through a million songs to find that one that I’m in the mood for. No other song will do except that one I want to listen to. That part drives him crazy.

Oh, and there are some French songs and some classical songs that drive him crazy.

Specifically, this French song:

No, I dunno what it’s saying, don’t really care, either. I lurve it.

Anyways, because of this weird taste in music, and the fact that my favorite place to jam is in the car, sometimes The Husband will let me drive around town for a little while (when he’s home, obviously) so that I can jam out without having the kids in the car with me (I like my music *loud*, like ear-bleeding loud) and I can skip through half a million songs without him grinding his teeth.

Because that teeth grinding thing is totally unhealthy.

And, unflattering.

He loves me so much, obviously, because I’m quirky.

I mean, he doesn’t love me because I’m quirky. I am quirky, and he’s stayed with me for the last six years, therefore he must really love me.

That was my point.

Glad I could clear that up.

On Going to Florida

Every few months, in my house, my husband and I have a conversation that normally goes like this with a few variations:

Me: Wah, wah, wah, I miss my mommy.
Husband: I’m sorry.
Me: Wah, wah, wah, it’s so cold here.
Husband: Yeah, that’s Wyoming for ya.
Me: Wah, wah, wah, I hate it here.
Husband: No you don’t.
Me: Wah, wah, wah, the kids miss their grandparents.
Husband: Why don’t you make a trip to Florida?
Me: Oh, no, I can’t do that <insert money excuse> and <insert other excuse>.
Husband: Whatever. You can go down there for a while, it’ll be ok.
Me: Oh, no, I don’t want to leave you.
Husband: Ok.

<a few days later>

Me: Wah, wah, wah you’re never home.
Husband: I know, I’m sorry. Go to Florida.
Me: No.
Husband: OMG, just go to Florida, dang it!
Me: No, I can’t do that.
Me: No.

<a few days later>

Me: I want to go to Florida.
Husband: FINALLY! OMG! We’ll leave next week!

Within a few days, I normally change my mind back to staying here. For various reasons. Once, we had a warm snap for a few days, so I stayed here, then Old Man Winter showed back up and slapped me for being naive.

Since we’ve been in Wyoming, every year, I’ve driven back to Florida and stayed for two-three months. That way The Husband can work as much as he wants without me whining at home, he can take extra shifts because he doesn’t have to worry about leaving me and the kids at home all alone.

Also? I just like to talk to people that are grown up that are not my husband. Have I mentioned that I have NO friends here?

That’s my fault, but that’s a different post for a different day.

In July, we move. We move so that I can go to the University and finish up my degree so that I can work. It’s not that I don’t want to stay home with my kids, it’s that I can’t. I’m not made for it. Seriously. I don’t know why, but I’m just not. It took a while for me to be okay with that, but I finally am. I’ve worked hard to get to where I am, where I’m going, and I feel like that’s okay.

Anyways, every year I make the trip to Florida. Sometimes, it helps. Sometimes, it doesn’t. Most of the time, I can’t wait to get back “home” — to Wyoming. To my husband.

For years after I married my husband, I thought of Florida as “home”. Now, I consider wherever he is “home”. I may forget that, I may run back to Florida, but at the end of the day, I can’t wait to get back “home”.

I’m gonna be honest with y’all for a minute…

Marriage is hard.

I’m not even joking with you. Marriage takes a lot of work, it takes a lot of time, it takes a lot of understanding.

That’s probably the hardest part, honestly.

Sometimes, I don’t understand my husband. Sometimes, I don’t get him. I thought that after six years of marriage, that I would understand him more.

We’ve had ups and downs. I’ve stormed out a few times, angry and upset, yelling and screaming. He’s never stormed out, because he’s not as emotional or angry as I am.

We’ve gotten angry at each other for stupid stuff. We’ve gotten angry over important things. We fight about the budget, we fight about dinner, and we fight about what we should do with our lives.

Sometimes, even after being married for six years, I mis-read him. I think he’s being short or angry with me, when he’s really not.

My husband is a kind, wonderful, humorous, and amazing man. He puts up with me when I am at my worst. He puts up with me when I cry, when I’m overly upset about something. He puts up with me when I’m being crazy.

Because, sometimes, y’all? I’m a little crazy.

You can take the girl out of the South, but you can’t take the South out of the girl, I’m just sayin’.

My husband? Puts up with it all.

And, I can’t understand it. He puts up with me when I’m crazy, he puts up with me when I cry for no reason because I am upset over something. He puts up with me when I get angry at someone in a store after they say something rude about me or my kids and all I want to do is pummel their ass say mean things to them and hurt their feelings.

He’s sweet. He’s forgiving. He’s wonderful.

I really adore that man.

But, I hate abhor loathe his job.

He’s my Sparky Husband Man and I will love him always and forever.

And he’s not too bad looking, either. If I do say so myself, and I do.