It's been almost a year since I really cried about not having another baby. It happened during BlogHer in New York. I was outside the American Girl store of all places. I went from perfectly fine to crying my eyes out in seconds. The same thing happened while I was watching Parenthood last night. When Julia told Joel she "wasn't done", I nodded along. Yes, I thought, I can relate to that feeling. But when Christina told Adam she was pregnant? I completely lost it.

I knew the decision wouldn't be easy. I even told Phil there were no guarantees I wouldn't hate him every so often though that's irrational and totally not fair since we made the decision together. But I wasn't angry with him last night; just really, really sad. Surprised too, because I thought I've moved on and learned to live with it. I guess I was wrong.

A Moment of Panic

During the Christmas break I was folding laundry on my bed and heard a faint buzzing. I thought I was imagining it but then I followed the sound to the bathroom. It was definitely coming from there but I couldn't pinpoint it. 

At first I couldn't think what would be making a sound like that. It wasn't the toothbrush or water pick. Phil hadn't left his razor on accidentally; I could see it on the counter. What could it be? Then it hit me. 

Oh shit. 

Did Tyler find "it"?

What was he doing poking around in here?!

Why didn't he ask me what "it" was? 

Thank God he didn't ask me what "it" was!

Do I say something?

I don't want to say something!

I was about to reach down into the cabinet to turn "it" off, but as I bent over the sound got louder as my head passed by one of Phil's drawers. Turns out, it was just his nose hair trimmer. Crisis averted.

But since then I've been thinking. Should I move "it"? I don't want to bury "it" too far because then "it" isn't, uh, convenient anymore. 

So now I'm asking you. Where do you keep "it"? Have your kids ever found "it"? How did you respond?

Fun with Email: The Naughty Edition

From: PSheridan

To: MSheridan

Subject: What's up with that?!

Date: May 18, 2010

So I heard on the radio this morning that Jada Pickett Smith likes to send some nice photos to her husband Will every now and then. How come you never do that for me?

From: MSheridan

To: PSheridan

Subject: Re: What's up with that?!

Date: May 18, 2010

You're at an office, not your personal trailer on a movie set. And why don't you do the same for ME?

From: PSheridan

To: MSheridan

Subject: Re: Re: What's up with that?!

Date: May 18, 2010

Please. You don't want me to send you pics. And my cubicle is super private thank you very much. How else do you think I can do jigsaw puzzles at work :)

From: MSheridan

To: PSheridan

Subject: Re: Re: Re: What's up with that?!

Date: May 18, 2010

I wouldn't ask if I didn't want one.

I left the house to run errands right after I sent that. I did not think he'd take me up on it! Needless to say when I got home and opened my email again I was floored. And then I laughed my ass off. I'll have to repay the favor soon I'm sure. Hopefully Casey is open to working her Photoshop magic again.

This is probably one of the sweetest things Phil has ever done. Not because I wanted a photo of my husband's junk. Man parts aren't remotely sexy. It's sweet because I know it had to be a little weird and awkward for him to do but he did it anyway to make me smile. I appreciate that. 

We try hard to have fun and keep each other on our toes. That's important in a relationship; to never stop trying. While a somewhat blurry cell phone shot of my husband's goods doesn't get my juices flowing, a man who can still make me giggle after almost 12 years of marriage? That's sexy. 

11 Years Equals

132 months
573 weeks
4015 days
96, 423 hours
5,785,436 minutes

Thank you for spending all this time with me. Happy Anniversary. I love you.

X's and Y's

I haven't talked here about having another baby too often, but it's been a topic of conversation for a few years. Whenever Phil and I have talk about it, the discussion disintegrated into a mini argument. We'd go around in circles not really getting anywhere. The baby talk has brought up a lot of issues. Some are things that have always been speed bumps in our marriage that flare up every few years but there have also been a few new things that have developed since I've started getting serious about the blog.

It's been frustrating for both us of not being on the same page. In the end I think we both raised the white flag and agreed to permanently disagree. Phil got a vasectomy three weeks ago. I called Deb the morning of the surgery and tried not to cry. Since then I've had good days and bad. I mentally go over the pros and cons and Phil and I still talk about the "what if's" and the "maybe's."

I don't know if this was the right decision for us and I may never know. I know we needed to get out of the limbo we've been in. This has been hanging over our heads since we bought our house (probably before). It's hard to be present in and love the life you do have when you're constantly wondering about the life you could have.

Why I Need to be Freed From Housecleaning, by Mel

A whole year of housecleaning would be great for my mental health and my marriage. I might even go so far as to say it would be life changing. For the past several days I’ve been cleaning and straightening, cleaning and straightening. And I’m over it.

Cleaning is a catch-22 for me because I’m anal and I LOVE a nice clean house, but I don’t like to clean. When the house is clean I can relax. Clutter makes me jittery, anxious and distracted. Even if I’m reading or watching TV, if the house isn’t clean I’m not completely relaxed because my sitting down is time I’m not spending cleaning. And then I feel guilty so I straighten. Then I get angry because cleaning is kind of a time waster.

When I think of all the hours I’ve spent scrubbing, dusting, wiping, sweeping and vacuuming I get sad for the time I’ve lost. Those are hours I’ll never get back and I could have enjoyed them so much more! I could have relaxed with my family. I could have read all the books in my ‘to be read’ pile (which, at last count, has ??? titles). I could have watched more academy award nominees. I could have started my scrapbook (well, maybe not that). Point being I’ve spent hours maybe even days or weeks! doing something that makes me feel anxious, jittery, distracted, guilty, sad and angry.

Tonight I asked my husband if he would make a video explaining why he thought I deserved to win a year of housekeeping services from BidMyCleaning.com. I thought it would be nice to turn the blog over to him for a change.

His response? “Sure, just tell me what to say.”

I tried again. “Just talk about what you think winning would mean to me.”

“My brain doesn’t work that way. I need a script. Have Drama Kid do it.”

Oh, hell, forget it. I’ll do it myself.

That anecdote perfectly sums up why I need this. Because it seems that most days, if something needs cleaning I do it myself. That’s not to say my two boys aren’t helpful. They are. But if someone were to ask all the members of my household “who here has ever scrubbed the toilets?” I feel confident I’d be the only one raising my hand. Cleaning just isn’t that important to them. But it is to me so I take on the bulk of it. And back comes the anger and sadness but this time there’s a little bitterness and bitchy mixed in.

So let’s recap: angry, sad, jittery, anxious, distracted, guilty, bitchy and bitter. That’s one hell of an emotional roller coaster. I love roller coasters but this one has me tired and I’m ready to get off. I’ll still clean because hi, nice to meet you, I’m anal. But knowing that once a month someone will be coming to help me would take such a weight off. I could legitimately relax. And a relaxed mommy is a happy mommy. A relaxed wife is more likely to put out (Shut up. You know it’s true).

I need this. My family needs this. Free me from housecleaning. Please.

You can enter too. Rules and info here. (photo from here)

A Wedding Story

He came home on leave and she asked, "So, um, do you still want to marry me?" and he said, "Hell yes! " and they exchanged vows one week later in a civil ceremony. There were no flowers, no rings, no photographers. The wedding colors were denim and denim.
 

After the ceremony they went home to their apartment by the beach, he carried her over the threshold and they ate macaroni and cheese. She went to work, he got ready to head back to his ship the next day.

They kept their marriage secret from all but a few close friends and family intending to "get engaged" when they saved up for the rings and then "get married" six months later because who needs a long engagement and they had been together since they were 17 (except for the time he was stationed in Italy) and they got married two days after his sister and didn't want to steal her thunder.

Except there was a flaw in their plan. If they "married" so soon after his sister, his out of town relatives would not be able to fly out to California again so soon, so they "got engaged" but changed their plans and set a date one year in the future on the day of their original anniversary in high school.

She put a deposit on a place and she and her mother shopped for dresses and she would take off her wedding band when any of the family were around and they continued to live happily together at their apartment by the beach.
 

Except their was another flaw in their plan. After almost eight months, her father, who worked in law enforcement, started to get suspicious so he wrote to the county recorder's office and requested a copy of their marriage license which he produced one day with a "do you have something you want to tell us?"
 

And she fessed up and explained the reasons why they didn't tell and stopped looking for dresses and canceled the place and was secretly a little relieved because the "wedding" was getting bigger than she wanted it to anyway.



Her mother threw them a party and a few close friends and family ate, drank and got merry to celebrate the couple's soon to be one year anniversary and she thought, "we'll just renew our vows on our ten year anniversary," and they continued to live happily in their apartment by the beach.
 


Fast forward 10 years, two more apartments, at least five jobs, several cars, a post 9/11 activation, one baby, typical marriage ups and downs, a house purchased, a kitchen remodeled and job lost and that's where you will find them today.

And she would like him to know how very lucky she is and how much she loves him and how thankful she is for the life they have built together and she would marry him in secret all over again but this time in a dress and they continue to live happily together in their house by near pretty close to the beach.

Happy Anniversary Honey! 

(That was the really really condensed version)

One Word. Three Letters. Starts with 'S'

The night my new design was installed there were technical difficulties that had me in a panic. So much so that I "outed" my blog to Drama Dad asking for his help. He was no use but thankfully the problem turned out to be a pretty simple issue with Firefox versus Internet Explorer.

Anyway, now that hubby knows I'm online he's started sending me things to blog about. He sent me an email with a link from a site for brides to be, AisleDash.com, and naturally it's about sex. The article is about a couple who had sex for 101 days straight and then wrote a book, Just Do It (photo from Amazon).

Hubby's point, of course, being we should start our own attempt to break their streak and write Doin' It More Than They Are.

At first I laughed. Hee hee, he's so funny. But then I got a little hurt. I like sex. We have sex. Not every day. But I'm sure we're no different than most couples (Right? Please tell me I'm right!). If I had to come up with an actual number, I don't think I could.

It fluctuates. And the determining factors are as varied as my shoe collection. I'm tired. He's tired. He's on the computer. I'm on the computer. It's 10:30 and Drama Kid is still awake. No condoms. (Yep, the responsibility is on him, literally. I'm done with hormones. If they perfect the Male Pill he's welcome to it). Etc. Etc.

I'll admit the intimacy, or more aptly the frequency, isn't there the way it was before Drama Kid. And I do feel badly. But I won't shoulder all the responsibility. In fact, I'm taking credit for bringing some of the spark back.

When I had my job, it beat me up, spit me out and left me for dead. I was not me anymore. I was angry, stressed, exhausted, snappish and just no fun to be around (I have since apologized to Drama Dad for being such a bi*ch).

I was out of the house shortly after 8:00am after going through Morning Hell with Drama Kid and getting him fed, lunch made and dropped off at school, ate lunch at my desk most days and was still there when the boss left at 6:00. Sex was usually the thing after the last thing on my mind. And we suffered as a couple. The "connect" was definitely missing.

But now that I'm at home, things have definitely perked up. I won't go into detail (you're welcome) but there have been times we've left Drama Kid at after school care a little longer than usual.

I buy the lacy nighties.

I buy the candles.

I bought the Vanilla Massage Oil.

It was my idea to go to one of THOSE stores and buy one of THOSE things.

I suggested we get a pool table.

I'm not saying I need rose petals and candlelight every night, but grabbing my tush or squeezing the girls is not foreplay. It was funny the first time. The 500th? Move along, nothing to see here.

My husband tells me I'm beautiful. He opens doors for me. He says "I love you." We go out when we have a free sitter. He does all the right things (thanks Art of Manliness!).

I guess my point is there's no one to blame. And while I agree with sexpert Ian Kerner in that you have to have sex to want sex, we're not 23 anymore. We need more sleep. We have a kid. Things ache that didn't used to.

I'm also one of those people who gets easily distracted and overwhelmed by piles of laundry, dirty dishes and Lego pieces everywhere. Kerner also says that "turning her on is about helping her turn it all off." [You heard him honey. The Swiffer's over there.]

I would like us to be together more often. And I know Drama Dad does too. But after the cleaning, folding, schlepping and mommy-ing (oh all right, and blogging) there's not always much left in me at the end of the day for wife-ing.

But I know how important intimacy is in a marriage so I'll take hubby's email as a not so subtle sign we need more together time.

Is this situation being played out in your bedroom too? How have you dealt with it?

*Tomorrow is the last day to enter my contest.