I have starts of thoughts, I had something about Halloween starting to brew, but like my keys and any shits to give I have no idea where they are right now.
I did find some truly terrifying pumpkins. Like this one picturing Canadian female impersonator, Justin Beaver:
We've also had other things going on, celebrating my FIL's birthday Saturday for one. Also yesterday I forced my teenager to watch his little sisters while my husband and I went out to dinner to 'celebrate' the 10th anniversary of our first date. At TWO P.M. because we skipped over the Peg and Al Bundy stage of marriage and went to full-on Helen and Stanley Roper. Don't worry, this isn't one of those annoyingly mushy posts about relationships. We don't swing that way.
We don't even remember the exact date but we got together toward the end of October of 2004. After ten looong years, we have just started to reach the stage where those cute little annoying personality habits? Are not so cute anymore. And there are a lot.
Frankly I can't believe we made it this long. We're both pretty big assholes. It's okay, that used to be our thing. Maybe that's the secret? Find that person who is the same level of asshole.
It helps for us to keep reminding ourselves of each other's asshattery. There is plenty of material there. His clothing issues for one. That is a link to a whole post I wrote about that. After 10 years I still only operate at about a 60% success rate buying clothes for him. I'm all Jar Jar Binks "My give up!" I have my own issues, that's for sure.
Then there are the new issues we keep finding about each other, like my constant
Even though every single day my husband takes his laptop out, starts his car and then comes back in the house for his lunch and roadie coffee, he has a complete mental block against moving my son's car during this time.
The only way he can possibly scheme the getting out of the driveway in his mind, is if *I* move my son's car. Now granted, when my booger-mobile is behind him, I'll move it and put it back in the driveway. That would take a lot of maneuvering for one person. But I've told him several times it's also okay if he leaves it in the street. Nope. I have to do that so he can just drive away.
Most of the time I move the Smoke-mobile (appropriate name I gave Tinny's car,) to the street, leave it parked there and return. I do that all by myself. He watches me do that. By my self. Yet still, every morning, no matter how many children are whining at me and asking me for food and milk and attention, he'll still say:
"Can you help me move cars?"
Really? You can't just move that car 5 feet to the street and walk the keys back up? Nope.
What if I make you your OWN set of keys so you don't have to worry about the key situation? 10 pounds of NOPE in a 5 pound bag.
We all have our things, I get it. It's no secret I'm not a great chef/cook/food prep person, for one thing.
I'm also disproportionately sick of taking the damn garbage out. I was the only one who did it for years as a single mom. We lived in an apartment complex with a communal dumpster. 2 buildings over was a registered sex offender, so I would never have slept again if I made my son take the garbage out by himself. I did it for years here, the dads of the neighborhood and I chin-nodding 'sup' to each other walking our rolling cans to the curb. Now? I'm over it.
I work, sometimes I even clean. I watch an assload of little kids. They might be cute? But trust me, I'm around repugnant-level STINK all day. YOU handle the garbage. Strap on some Daddy Nikes and JUST DO IT.
I have to go through this whole speech every freaking week. Usually at 6:30 in the morning when he keeps pushing 'Snooze' on his alarm.
Even though I probably brought that on myself by having an opposite view of typical gender roles, I'd like to propose a more traditional switch for just this one thing. I'll still drive everywhere we go, and tease him about backseat driving all that. We need a Sheldon Cooper Relationship Agreement.
There is also my constant tweeting about our relationship. I'm sure he loves knowing that the tens of people that follow me are knowing the details of our marriage.
|Oh and also Instagram|
I think he does like that I don't take his crap, though. No one respects a person that kisses their butt all the time. He likes a challenge. We both do, and we're both painfully honest. Sometimes that can be really painful. It's a delicate balance.
A real writer would wrap this up with something hopeful, clever, perhaps some advice. I think we both know you're not getting that here. I can only tell you what definitely does NOT work, and that's bottling up your annoyance and aggression. That causes ulcers, and other medical terms I can't think of at the moment but I'm sure it's legit.
I'm not an advice-giver, but calling each other on our mounting bullspit seems to work for our relationship. And talking things through with close friends. And a couple thousand people on social media.
_____________What would YOU put in your relationship agreement?
Are there things that really irritate you that may be borderline deal-breakers? Tell me about them. It'll be our secret. Ours and the internet. And the 11 people who regularly read this, but they are not judgmental. At all.