Thursday, May 1, 2008

Yard Work, Food Lion, Knife Juggling....OH MY!!!

Lately I've been having some problems in my love life. Now don't be thinking anything weird, I'm not divulging strange things on the Internet. After all, what fun would that be without pictures?

But I've been, in a proverbial but realistic way, talking to a brick wall, staring at a brick wall, giving the brick wall evil eyes.

For example, last week I was sick. I don't mean a little cold with fever, sniffles and explosive poo, headache and eczema eyeball sick. I mean sick in a way that I don't want to talk about on the Internet. After all, what fun would that be...

Haha. No, but really.

I was lying in the floor on Friday night while Moira and Austin were camping with some friends. Sabra was being oh-so-good and let me lay in my misery, waiting for my colon to explode while she watched Blue's Clues. I don't know what I would have done if she decided to juggle steak knives. She would have had to just take herself to the doctor. Although, I don't actually have steak knives, so I was kind of set in that department. But I truly was out of commission, and I texted Austin to get some much needed sympathy.

I didn't want to be the annoying wife who couldn't get through one night without contacting her husband to tell him that there was a bug in the bathroom or that the car's oil needed to be changed. I hate when women sound like that, and even though the car's oil does need to be changed, I would rather just open up the hood thingy and pour some olive oil directly onto the engine type device rather than admit I don't know how to change the oil myself.

But I was physically and emotionally exhausted from my bout with whatever hideous disease was attacking my insides. My text to Austin asked how Moira was enjoying her first camping trip and to please say a prayer for me because I honestly didn't know that I could make it through the night having to take care of a potentially steak knife juggling toddler.

Austin is not one for flowery text messages. So I was excited, speechless, enraptured, and momentarily encouraged when he wrote something sweet and smelling of daisies. It was exactly what I needed, and I couldn't help but have all kinds of wonderful thoughts about my perfect Adonis of a husband.

Imagine my surprise and, let's be frank, anger, when he came back the next day and had no recollection of the Adonis he had been the night before. Despite the fact that I told him I had stayed up until 3 a.m. making very good friends with our Benevolent Potty of Grace, and that I had continued to watch our child in a Mother Teresa like fashion, he wanted to come home and MOW THE YARD.

I looked at him incredulously. I was speechless. I made several high-pitched noises in his general direction. He explained that he wanted to mow our backyard jungle (seriously folks, it was as tall as my knee and I'm 5'7) and then come back inside to help with the kids. He told me that the kids needed a nap anyways and I could rest while they napped. As soon as they woke up, he would come inside! See? He wasn't ditching me as I thought; he was being kind and thoughtful! It was a plan I could live with.

The kids and I fell asleep to the sound of a backyard mower trying to eat its way through grass the size of my thigh. Ahhh, sweet needed sleep. And I'll wake up to the even sweeter need of being cared is grand.

I woke up two hours later, feeling a bit refreshed but still rather ill. I mustered all the strength I had and went downstairs. I opened the back door and stood on the deck, enjoying that sweet smell of Southern summertime. Fresh cut grass, cool breeze, and someone making something fried down the street. Ah, but I love the smell of nostalgia. Not that I should be nostalgic for fried things, because they certainly never showed up at my childhood home. We were the weird ones on the block with Lard Nar, Pad Thai and maybe some Dolmades. Mmm, nothing like curry and nan to make you the coolest kid on the cul-de-sac.

I didn't hear the mower anymore, and I called out for Austin. He was finishing up with some weeds, and said he would be right in. Moira woke up and called for me, so I came back inside. She wanted to ride her bike, so we made for the stairs. Right before we made it into the garage, Sabra woke up and demanded some chocolate milk. I walked my tired and blurry-eyed self back up the stairs to retrieve the very excited two year old child who was already singing at the top of her lungs. (My strength was now lower than the oil level in my car.)

We went into the yard where Austin was now shoving bushels of cut grass into trash bags. It had been fifteen minutes since he was 'coming right in', so I asked how much longer he was going to be. I was starting to feel rather sick again and desperately wanted to pay a visit to our comfy couch. After all, I wasn't faking or looking for an easy way out of taking care of the kids. I. FELT. SICK.

Austin told me that he could come inside right away, but when else would he be able to finish up? I reminded him of just how unwell I had been the night before…and he looked at me blankly. I told him to bloody well get himself inside or do whatever he needed to do to let me find solace in the squishy solidity of the couch. My Knight In Shining Armor then told me that he really wanted to stay outside and finish and rake the dead grass and put it into bags and sweep the porch from dead grass and keep the newly cut grass from turning to dead grass and while he was at it he would really like to find the cure for cancer and prove that women are indeed smarter than men and by the way, he can't really do all of that if he has to watch the kids.

But honey, I'll come inside if you tell me you really want me to! he taunted.

Um….yeah, genius I've already covered that information with you. You know that I want you to come inside the house! I don't feel good, and I've already begged you to come inside to take care of the kids for me and you've now been at the yard for about three hours and if the alive grass dies because of the dead grass on top of it, IT WILL GROW BACK BECAUSE WE LIVE IN A PLACE WHERE RAIN IS FREE!

After FIVE HOURS, Austin finally came back inside.

I was, in a word, MAD. I couldn't believe that this sweet, perfect, text message god had turned into a football jersey wearing riding mower happy foam finger waving prat.

And THEN! Oh, and then….

Austin came inside and wanted to take a shower because he is allergic to grass (who really needs to prove that women are smarter?) and needed to get all the pollen off of his bronzed body. (At this point, I have been sick for close to 48 hours and have had little sleep.)

Austin uses enough water during his daily shower to replenish the Nile River. He admits this; he is a water whore. After twenty minutes I will yell at him to GET OUT and he will yell back that he just needs to wash his hair and he'll be right out. Yeah, I know. What is he doing in there? Hmmm…..

So when Austin went upstairs to spend a quality hour with our shower, I resigned myself to the fact that I was just going to have to take care of the kids for the rest of their evening. Forget his promises to take care of me and/or the kids. He took care of the yard. While I very much appreciated his hard work, I didn't need cut grass. I needed a fresh bouquet of sympathy, and maybe a nice box of chocolate covered rest!

I made dinner (pancakes, I know you are shocked) and played with the kids, and wrote mean blogs in my head about Austin. (But I'd never post those) I didn't want anything to eat, but I did want a nice cold Coke. I don't often crave Coke, but when I do I am usually nursing a migraine or some other kind of body invader. If I could just get away from the bathroom long enough....sweet nectar of calming delight could be purchased at the grocery store.

I was contemplating this need versus my weakened state when Austin came downstairs smelling of my lavender body wash.

He didn't seem to be phased by the sight of his wife slumped over the kitchen table, head in hands, whimpering that life is not fair.

Whaddya want? he snarled

I would feel so much better if only I had a small glass of cola flavored beverage! I pitifully moaned, lower lip trembling

Oh yeah? Well GO GET IT YOURSELF! he cackled, and went to play the Wii.

Well, not really. He actually did offer to go get me some Coke, but then he never did…and I didn't feel well…and finally, after sobbing into my dainty little hands, I grabbed the keys and headed for the car.

"I'm going to get me some COKE!" I politely bellowed, tears streaming down my face.

Incredulous, he stared as I backed out the garage door and drove into the night. "But I said I would get it for you!" he said, perplexed and still clicking the Wii trigger button.

"The road to hell, buddy! The road to hell!"

I called my sister, who is one of the only people who can tell me if I'm being crazy and not suffer a horrible fate. I called to hear her voice, because I felt so very lonely and uncared for.

I also drove…towards….a Food Lion. I'm not sure why; we have a Kroger and Target and other non-scary grocery places. But Food Lion is where my car went, despite the fact that I haven't been there in four years.

It is a frightening place, Food Lion in Smyrna. I was almost shocked into forgetting about my Adonis turned Bubba when I was surrounded by real live Bubbas. They wore overalls, had no teeth and some had no shoes. I'm not joking OR stretching the redneck truth. There was also an entire section devoted to CHEW! Wow.

My sister calmed me, as did the realization that I was, donned in ponytail and cut offs, liable to be the subject of catcalls. Oh to be a redneck beauty queen. I drove home more subdued but not really any less hurt.

And then the weekend went downhill from there. Copy and paste the preceding information, add a puking child and church obligations and you will get the gist of it. There I am, still lonely, still alone and sad.

What, my good friends, am I to conclude?

Have I approached the point where my spouse no longer cares if my feelings are hurt? Have I decided that he has to do everything for me, or was I right in feeling upset?

I've been thinking on these things for several days, and am no closer to a conclusion. In fact, I'm even more frustrated because Adonis knows for a fact that I'm upset and doesn't seem to be too alarmed.

"Sorry?......" was about all I could coax out of him in regards to what he was thinking when I could hardly walk around and yet was...walking around.

It feels like such a big deal to me, and I cannot find the words to express this to my oh so adored spouse.

We are waaaay past the 'honeymoon stage', so I don't expect perfection. But when you plead with your spouse for help and they don't want to give it? What is this?

I don't want to admit it, but it feels a bit like I have arrived at "Marriageville, Population=Miserable"

Nobody here wants to do anything except get through the day and maybe enjoy a turn on the riding mower. The inhabitants of this town just stare at each other and in apathetic misery will themselves to keep going another day.

I think I'll keep driving...though I might need to pull over. The hood thingy is smoking.

Where is the nearest Food Lion? I need some olive oil...

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