*This is NOT a spoiler blog post as I haven’t finished the books yet. While reading the second book I couldn’t help but imagine what would happen if they got married and what their lives would be like 10 years later. 🙂
It’s been 10 years since we exchanged vows. Yes. Ten gloriously looooong years of endless sex and romantic getaways. Well, actually those stopped after the first 2 years and we haven’t done anything since our 6 month old twins came along. I’m waiting for them to stop nursing so I can get my vaginal reconstruction done; that area just doesn’t work the way it used to and in fact, I accidentally peed on ‘C’ the last time we attempted to get it on. Apparently that’s NOT one of his fetishes. Who knew I would be allergic to our new pillows and sneeze until I wet myself?
Babies #3 and 4 have been using my body in ways I never knew possible. As a matter of fact, this part of my body has stretched and contorted in far more positions than ‘C’ could have ever done with any of his clamps and bars from the “playroom”. Ah…….the playroom. As much as I was never a real fan of that room, it was hands down far better than this new playroom we have that has it’s own causes of torture: Legos, Hot Wheels and dress-up high heels. Step on one of those suckers and you’ll see what pain REALLY is!
But life is great. Truly fantastic some would say. I live in a mansion that overlooks the most beautiful scene in Seattle. But due to my 6 year old’s Agoraphobia (gets that kind of stuff from his father), we had to build a wall along the whole back of the house in order to make him feel more “closed in”. I will occasionally sneak out the front door and around to the back of the house with one of the twins on my boob and watch the sun set with tears in my eyes knowing that I might never be able to enjoy this view in peace. Why do I let these babies use me as their pacifier?
Gail (bless that woman) has already started cooking so I sit in the library for quiet reading time with the kids. We each grab a book and try to squeeze everyone onto the loveseat. I get another elbow to the ribs and a head butt to my nose and just as my eyes start to well up with uninvited tears, HE walks in to the room. He stares at me with that look on his face; the look that tells me that he’s ready for it….”PFTHRARTPH!” Along with a leg lift towards me, he proceeds with his nasty fumes that sounds like he might actually need to go change his pants. Why does he have to enter the room I’m in to do it? What kind of sick fetish is that? As he is in hysterics at my look of disgust I run away from him with both babies in tow. “ ‘A’, don’t run! Please don’t run! I have another one coming!” Gasp. He’s such a foul pig!
Dinner time is a freaking nightmare. No longer do ‘C’ and I get to stare longingly in to each other’s eyes. In fact, I can’t remember the last time he and I looked at each other over the utter chaos that is our current situation. With 6 month old twins and a 3 and 6 year old we have said sayonara to those dinners. The last time we had a dinner like that, I popped out TWO babies 8 1/2 months later and now I’m just petrified.
As bed time approaches, I can almost feel how dark my circles are becoming. I glance in the mirror and take a look at my pathetic self with a different twin on my boob. Then quickly look away from the reflection since it’s so sad to see myself like this. I quickly lick my front teeth before I bite my lip to hold back the tears. Oh Crap, I forgot to brush my teeth today! And what the heck happened to my skin? And my hair is just plain gross. Maybe I should wash my hair the next time I shower? My inner goddess is facing the corner rocking in the fetal position sucking her thumb. She’s given up on me and I’m too damn tired to give a shit. Those twins haven’t slept since they were in utero.
The 3 year old is a nightmare and I can’t help but blame her spoiled brattiness on HIM. I mean, what the hell was he thinking buying her a boat for her 3rd birthday? Is he an idiot? We need to discuss these things with Dr. ‘F’ because this has got to change or else our kids will become just as messed up as he is.
I slump on our bed after getting the kids to sleep for the moment and stare at the ceiling. What a beautiful ceiling it is. ‘C’ comes in with a handful of nuts, eating each one in my vicinity, with his mouth open nonetheless. I don’t care how beautiful he is. His jaw pops with every bite down and my peace has now vanished. “Pop. Pop. Pop”. I continue trying to find my happy place, but the popping is starting to echo in my head. My subconscious is telling me to stay quiet and not to say anything out of respect for my husband. Screw off you goody two shoes….I. JUST. CAN’T. TAKE IT ANYMORE!! “WOULD YOU CLOSE YOUR FREAKING MOUTH WHILE YOU CHEW?!?!?!? AND GET THAT POP IN YOUR JAW CHECKED OUT!!” His response. “What the hell is wrong with you? PMS?” I don’t respond since I know it can escalate and I don’t have the energy. I continue staring at the ceiling.
Why didn’t I hire a nanny again? Oh Because I was needing to prove to myself that I could do it. Well, I’m done with that ridiculous thinking. A tear of failure falls down my right cheek. He walks over to me, wipes the tear from my face and says, “I’m going golfing in the morning so I won’t see you until tomorrow night.” Then he gives me the ever endearing boob “honk” and says he wants to get some. I look at him like he’s a mysterious creature. Is he for real? So I ask him, “Are you for real?” “Yeah, baby. Come on, it’ll be quick.” Ugh. So I roll over, tell him to hurry up and please, don’t worry about my needs. Just as he finishes, we hear a cry on the monitor and I get up without saying anything. In an almost robotic fashion, I head out the bedroom door.
He stops me. Turns me around and says, “I’ll get him.”
And my body quivers. That’s LOVE right there.