What’s wrong?

I met my husband when I was 19. I’m not 19 anymore. Which means I’ve been with him for a very very very long time. We’ve grown-up together. Built a life together. He likes to say that he knows me better than anyone (mostly true except when it comes to my coffee order, food order,  etc). In all seriousness he does know me well. He knows I don’t like restaurants with too many TVs, it gives me heart palpitations. He knows I prefer to end all good times by midnight or earlier. He knows I don’t like to PET animals. I like animals. I wish them well in the world. But I don’t like to touch them. He loves a good dog/cat rub. He’s saved me from appearing cold and heartless many times by blocking an oncoming pet. He loves me like that.

I think I know him really well too. For instance, I know that potholes bother him like inequality bothered Martin Luther King. I know that sounds like a massive exaggeration, but really it’s mostly true. Actually I’m not sure anything in the world bothers him like bad infrastructure. He’s fallen in love with dumpy towns simply based on clean, well-paved roads. The other love of his life – besides his wife, kids and good roads – is grass. No. Not weed. Actual grass. He loves a good bed of grass. Or yard of grass. Or whatever it’s called. Nothing makes him happier than new grass sprouts. He’s like a proud father.

But for all our mind-reading of each other’s habits, wants, like/dislikes, etc, he still insists on asking what I consider the worst question known to man-kind, “What’s Wrong?”.  I know that sounds like an exaggeration too. But it drives me bananas. I can count on one hand how many times I’ve asked that question to him….our entire marriage. I don’t have to ask. I know. I know because I listen. I see. I remember. That’s how I know.  I don’t know with everyone. I have to ask friends. I sometimes have to ask my kids. I also ask my co-workers. “What’s wrong?”. Fill me in. What have you been up to? What’s keeping you up at night? But usually, like 99.999% of the time, I know what’s wrong with my husband. It’s a work thing. Or a health thing. Or a schedule thing. I ask questions like, “does your knee still hurt?” or “What happened today with that _____?” filling in the blank of whatever work issue he’s told me about. You get it. And some of the time… wait for it….I don’t even ask! That’s right. You wanna know how to have a long marriage? If you sense your spouse is upset in any way, ignore it. Let him/her talk about it or let it blow over. I know this goes against most marriage advice you get from say…experts…but letting it blow over is a very powerful marriage tool, in my opinion.  Not good for all occasions, but it comes in handy sometimes. Your mate seems frustrated, irritated or moody? Go for a walk without them. Leave them alone for a bit. Works like a charm. Except when it doesn’t. In which case I go back to my earlier point, I’m no expert. You’re on your own.

If there is something wrong with me, there are only a handful of reasons for my salty mood. 1) Him. 2) Work. 3) He ordered my Chinese food incorrectly.  That’s about it folks. It really doesn’t get more interesting than that. Why doesn’t he know that? Him asking a broad, open-ended question like, “what’s wrong?” just makes me angrier, and I probably wasn’t even angry in the first place, just distracted or annoyed. Maybe I watched a commercial and now I’m sad thinking about how I never packed my kids a healthy bento box lunch. Maybe I heard the news and realized it was the end of the world. Or maybe I just ate tomato sauce too late in the day and now I’m paying for it. There’s too many ways to answer that question!  If he just narrowed it down a bit, it would be better. Or, even better, let it go. Let it blow over. The old blow-over technique that I’ve been trying to teach him for two decades. You see what I’m saying here?

What am I saying here? I don’t even know.  I think I’m just complaining. Or whining. See how easy it is to get me to open up? You didn’t even ask me anything.

 

 

 

 

Yes, it happened 13 years ago – Yes, I’ll stop talking about it soon

I had my daughter at 26.  Are you off the floor?  Have you recovered?  I know in most parts of the world this is totally normal – but in the Tri-state area, we were freaks (did I tell you we got married at 24?)

Here’s another zinger – we planned it that way.  Let me clarify.  We wanted to start a family early – we just didn’t realize it would happen instantaneously because I’m a fertile mertile.

We were thrilled, scared, happy and a little crazy.  So while all our friends went out to paint the town red, we stayed in and painted a hallway yellow – and called it a nursery.

The first few months after she was born were a blur.   I was not the earth mother I thought I would be (breastfeeding? no thanks!)  But eventually I got my mojo back, shook off the mild depression and decided to leave the apartment.

We lived just a few blocks away from a small neighborhood park .   I decided to pack up the baby and go for a walk.

I had grand plans.  The baby was too small to play so I would sit on a bench, maybe connect with some other moms, offer parenting tips, etc..

I took a spot in the middle of all the action, a ton of kids playing, a bunch of women sitting around – perfect.  Then, one of the other “moms” turned to me and said, “How long have you been watching the baby?” “Is the family nice?”.  Hmm?   Excuse me?  Oh.  OH.  It took me a few seconds to figure it out –  like a scene in a horror movie where the camera pans wide and you suddenly see the big picture.  I was in a sea of nannies – and I fit right in.

Any normal human being would have corrected them and gone on with their lives.  Not this human.  I was so stunned and shocked that I just played along for an hour and never went back.

The baby and her nanny

It just looks like crack….

I love face and body products.  Scrubs, masks, lotions, creams– sign me up.  You say it’ll take a layer of skin off?  Bring it.

So randomly, whether you like it or not, I’ll post new products that I’m in love with.

This is a vitamin C booster powder from Philosophy….it comes in a small vile with a tiny spoon and did I mention it’s a fluffy white powder?  It’s meant to be mixed with an oil/serum thingie.  It’s awesome.  It’s as close to living on the edge as I’ll ever get.

           mix with this… 

What products do you use and/or abuse?  Inquiring obsessive minds need to know.