If you're new here and you think I'm a good waste of 5 minutes a day, you may want to subscribe to my RSS feed. Thanks for visiting, and please come back so I can tell my mom I do SO have tons of friends!

Tomorrow Mr. A and I will have been married for 6 years. When I think of that number, the first thing that comes to mind is...only 6 years? It seems like it's been 50. We have had so many ups and downs, starting when we met and his family disapproved of me.  He went to technical school from 7 am-12 pm every day, and then straight to work from 1-10 p.m. We were in a teeny studio apartment, just us and Josie. Things were chilly between his family and me, even up to our marriage a year and a half later, when his mom was openly crying at the wedding and my family was more interested in seeing each other than seeing us married. (At least that's how it felt.) Even my mom wasn't focused on the wedding because dear niece was a baby then and 'needed' her. However, we were too in love to let them spoil our day. It was a beautiful day in May in Southern California.

We headed off to Kaui the next day and had a blissful week in paradise. We went on a helicopter ride over the canyons, took a sunset cruise on the coldest, rainest day of our trip--and laughed the whole way through it--enjoyed hearing the roosters crow outside our room, spent lots and lots of time naked and thoroughly enjoyed ourselves.

Then we returned back to real life and our very real problems. I hated my job. He hated my dog. We both hated cleaning. Then, my mom moved in with us for 10 months. I got a new job, we moved apartments, and Mom finally moved out. Still the same problems.

I found out his mom and her bitchy best friend had a bet that we wouldn't make it 5 years. Well, guess I won that one. Bully for me.

We started arguing about everything. He wanted to party. I wanted to stay home and watch TV. He wanted to sleep around. I didn't. Neither of us wanted to clean. We actually got a maid and started spending our free time together and life was good, for awhile. Then we started getting into deep debt because the only thing that made us happy was spending money (spas, fancy restaurants, vacations, you name it). Then the problems really started. We pulled guns on each other. I threatened to kill him more than once. He started calling me a bitch on a regular basis. We realized we had absolutely nothing in common, except love and eating.

Somehow we linked all these problems to the atmosphere and culture surrounding us. His friends, none of who were even seriously dating, were not supportive of him being married. Perhaps if I'd been a trophy wife it would all have been okay. At least then they could've understood. But I wasn't. And I'm not. The bleached-blonde Barbies in every mall, university, church, and sidewalk didn't help my confidence level. Mr. A was starting to feel that he wasn't the ugly geeky kid he'd always thought he was. He started to think maybe he'd like to date some other people, see what the single life was about. It terrified me. I tried to control him more to pull him back to me. We decided to take a trip to Michigan to see if that would help.

We left Fullerton on Christmas Day, 2002. Spent a week in MI being wined (okay, not wined, but entertained) and driven around beautiful snowy MI. Spent a week in Marc's house feeling the presence of God and realizing that wow, they've really got something here. When we arrived back in CA on New Year's Day 2003, we felt an immediate letdown. We knew we didn't want to stay in CA. Well, I never had, but now Mr. A said he felt that way too.

The next day at work, an article caught my eye. For the affordable housing in the University Gables. I thought, why not check it out? And called mother-in law. Do you want to go see them, there are only 5 houses left? Well, she jumped at the chance to keep her only son close to her. And when I saw that house, I believed I could make it work in CA, and be happy. My own house! A beautiful master suite with a bathtub actually big enough for me and Mr. A . All I could see were my children growing up there. It was like Ozzie and Harriet, that place. So, mother in law put down the down payment and we bought the house.

Almost immediately Mr. A started to change-became really depressed and distant. About a month later he told me-confessed, really-that he had asked a girl out on a date, just a casual thing. "Who is she?" I asked through my tears. "Someone as opposite from you as possible," he replied, "and I am so sorry. I can't live with myself, I had to tell you, I had to ask God's forgiveness. I love you! I am just crushed by the responsibility of this house. Now I can never leave my job no matter how shitty it gets" (it was a requirement that one of us be an employee at CSUF) "and I'm only 23! It's like, wow...this is my life? I'm a married man, no more playing? Can't drink when I want to or spend my money on things when I want to?"

Typical Rachel. Trying to fix what isn't fixable. We rescued a dog. Because I thought that would give us something to do together. And for a brief moment, all was beautiful because that dog adored Mr. A. And he adored her. Then she attacked Josie. We gave her to my sister. She nearly killed my sister's dog and bit 3 people before they put her down. It stayed with Mr. A for years, probably still bothers him. That we rescued a dog only to kill her. That someone loved him unconditionally and he couldn't keep her.

So, again...typical me. What do I do? Think it's a GREAT IDEA to get pregnant! Hey, the dog didn't work out, lets have a baby! So we tried, about 2 times I think, and got pregnant immediately. No one was really that jazzed about it except Mr. A's sister and Angell (Marc's wife). We were hurt and confused by the responses. It brought us closer. And, incredibly, my terrible pregnancy, 7 months of puking up each and every thing I put in my mouth, brought us closer as well. I had never seen my husband so tender and loving. He was so supportive of all my neurosis. Later, much later, he told me that he was terrified. That he wanted to walk away so many times because I was just making him crazy, but he did the right thing instead.

I had lil pill on April 6, 2004. Unplanned c-section. I was out of work for 4 months. Four of the happiest months of my life. Four months in which I thought I was going to be able to stay at home with lil pill and be the little housewife for the forseeable future. After I recovered, I took to wearing a slinky black nightgown and cooking nice meals for Mr. A so he'd have something good to come home to. I was happy. He was happy. Lil pill was pretty high needs, but hey, I was there to care for him. It was all good.

Then that fateful day that really changed our marriage forever. Looking back, I can see it as the turning point. Not because of what was said, but because of the thought process and the way I felt completely dismissed. Mr. A came home after going shooting with his dad, and told me that there was no other way---I was going to have to go back to work. He didn't ask me, he told me. He decided, along with his dad, that that would be best. "But, you promised!" I'm sure I said, among other things. So, I did. I went back to work and (unconsciously) determined to make Mr. A pay for it. I stopped cooking. I started spending large amounts of money. We didn't have sex. I didn't care at all about anything he said or did. All I cared about was lil pill. I told Mr. A I had never been "all in" in our relationship because I'd been too wounded by men in the past. That was his turning point. To be with someone through all these many ups and downs when they didn't love you as much as you loved them? Impossible. Mr. A went on Zoloft. He started doing scary things like playing with his guns in front of me and threatening to shoot himself or me. He told me he wanted a divorce. He was angry all of the time.

Everyone noticed. I called Marc in a panic. I told him that our marriage was over unless he could take Mr. A in for a couple of weeks and "fix" him. On Oct 11, 2004, the day after our son was dedicated at church, Mr. A flew to MI for 2 wks. When he returned, he was full of the Holy Spirit in a way I had never seen. He was totally changed. And then, the old Mr. A started slipping back in. He got reclassified at work. I thought I could make it on our budget. So I quit my job. Good for lil pill, bad for our finances. We've never done well roughing it. Things escalated.

By Valentines Day 2005 (which Mr. A spent at his parent's house consoling his mother, although he did leave about 8 p.m. because I was his wife and it was Valentine's Day), we were ready to put the house on the market. Unable to refinance it due to the housing restrictions, we had no handle on our debt and I had no ability to live within our means. Mr. A's dad had quintuple bypass surgery right around that time. We had already established that we would move in with them for 6 months or so. So we did. I became chief cook and bottle washer for my baby and for my father in law. It was rough. LIl pill took his first steps and said his first word (bye-bye!) at their house. But still, it was 2 adults and a child living in 2 rooms, with people that had finally started to experience the joy of an empty nest. We spent a lot of money on the weekends so we could find some breathing room. The troubles brought us closer. Mr. A realized that lil pill and I were his family. Not his birth family. That he didn't want to turn into them. That he didn't want to live just for himself anymore. So, we made plans to move to MI. See how happy everyone looks? We got to see some neat stuff along the way, though.

This caused a huge rift between me and his family. If it wasn't bad enough that we had to sell the house because I quit my job, now I was taking their baby and his baby away, far away. The relationship became downright frosty. In fact, to this day I have never gotten another present from mil, who used to lavish presents on all of us. They visited us once for 3 days in MI. They knew we were working on our marriage.

But, after all, the quick fix really wasn't a fix. Marc wasn't available to help us most of the time. Who could blame him? With 4 kids and a church to pastor, he didn't have a lot of free time. But, being idealists, we thought it would solve everything. Mr. A didn't find a job for four months...we ran through all of our savings and cashed in our retirement. Convinced we were in God's will and doing the right thing. Deeper and deeper into debt. Until only me going back to work would make it manageable again. But there was no one to help watch lil pill. Daycare wasn't an option in my mind. We only had 1 car. So, after a year and a half in MI, I moved down to Virginia and got a job. Just a little job, not one that would support us, but still something. Before I left MI, we had gone overnight to the Love and Respect conference. We were convinced that we had recaptured the magic, it was going to work this time and we had the tools to be happy.

Then Mr. A moved to VA, on the promise of a job which never materialized. After about 3 months of searching, he landed an amazing job making more than ever before. But we had so much catching up to do. Not having money caused problems. People saying they would help us with rent and so forth, that didn't help us, really caused problems. In the 3 months we were apart, the Love and Respect conference drifted out of our minds. We weren't even really that interested in recapturing that. We were just out to make money and get through it.

Fast forward to today. We've each been at work about 3 months. Lil pill is thriving, thanks to a very expensive full-time nanny. We're making lots of money and by the end of the summer, we'll be caught up on everything. We're renting a house. We found a dog that I love. But we're not happy. Last night, we were talking and Mr. A said that we don't have any glue to hold us together anymore. Not lil pill-we are both convinced he'd be happier if we were happier. Not circumstances-it's not us against the world anymore. All we have holding us together is that little ember of love way down deep inside of us. If we can find that again and flame it enough, perhaps there is something left to resurrect from our marriage. If we can't, we will go our separate ways after 6 long years as husband and wife.

We're going to D.C. for 2 nights together on Friday. We really can't afford it, and I have misgivings. It's the first time I've ever left lil pill for 2 nights and only the 2nd time overnight. I hope he does well. But really, this is a last ditch effort to rekindle US. Sometimes I think that everyone was right. That Mr. A was just too young; that we were just too different and/or scarily similar; that love isn't enough especially when it is your first love.

Then I think, you know what? Screw all of you people. You poisoned my mind with your bullshit. All of you women in my family? You poisoned my mind with your attitude about men and what generally worthless, untrustworthy beings they are. Mil and fil? your dysfunctional way of relating to problems, i.e. smoking them away, did not help your son deal with life one bit. Because he went into this thinking that it was just too much work with me, that we shouldn't argue at all, that we shouldn't have to work on it if it was really meant to be.

And those friends of his? Poisoned his mind because every man, supposedly, should have a Barbie on his arm that he sleeps around on anytime he "feels" like it. One that never denies him anything, from a blowjob in the middle of the day to becoming the fragile flower he tells her she needs to be. Those war/mobster/gory/sexist movies you all let him watch growing up? Those family vacations were women served and planned and did everything, while the men sat around, scratched themselves, and drank beer? Not helpful. That "feminist" mil who makes almost triple the salary of fil, but who lets him call her a bitch and stupid and every variation of every sexist comment you can think of, in front of her children both then and now, in order for him to "keep his pride"? Not helpful. Not at all.

I'll be damned if I'm going to throw away eleventymillion tears and conversations and charts and lists to satisfy those who said we'd never make it. If we don't make it, it won't be because of stuff they put in our heads. We'll give this an honest shot. We'll go to counseling and fix the fixable stuff. We'll work on the unfixable stuff so it's not as hard to live with. And by golly, if we still don't make it, then they won't be able to say we didn't give it 100% percent.

Happy anniversary Mr. A.

Brought up money, that is. To which I got a 15 minute drive into work full of screaming, name calling (this time me and all my family, what a treat!), and a complete dismissal of all I have done over the last 3 years. He punched me hard in the arm for the second time in a month. The car is always the place he loves to pick fights because I can't get away.

He said he needed three years of being "a bum" and me paying the bills before we were even close to even. Nice that your husband and the father of your child thinks of you as a bum while you were raising his (not prejudiced here, everyone says it) extremely smart, extremely verbal, sweet, inquisitive child for the first 3 formative years of his life. Because he would've turned out that way if I'd put him in daycare after 6 wks, I'm sure of it. Right?

So I wandered into this fight pretty innocently, just saying "hey, when we get paid, please pay the rent and Nanny A and keep the rest for food and fun, okay?" and then I got unloaded on. Because even though we agreed to pay Nanny A, apparently the deal isn't okay because she is living with us and doesn't need the money. And it's furthermore not okay because she's blowing it all on laptops, ipods, and weekend trips to California (her perogative). So he's not going to give her gas money to drive our son around with, because she's living with us for free.

By the time he finished (right as he was pulling up to my building) I felt like I was having a heart attack or panic attack or both. What had been a pretty decent weekend even for us was all wiped out in that 15 minutes. He doesn't understand how that happens, but it does. Down deep he is the same vengeful, bitter, raging maniac that he's been for the last-I don't know-at least 3 years. We ended the conversation with me apologizing for bringing up money! because I guess you know, everyone gets called a stupid bitch in the morning if they talk about bills, and then with him taking my hand and telling me I needed to sacrifice my money to pay Nanny A if it was the most important to me. Because apparently Mr. A would put lil pill in the cheapest ghetto daycare around if it would save him a buck. It's just your child, nothing special.

As I got out of the car, I told him he broke his word by calling me that name, and twice in fact, and told him to enjoy his lunch (that I packed him to save us some money). Then he drove off.

I don't expect to hear an apology but I will certainly, in the interest of fairness, write it here if he does give me one.

Anyway, it's pretty clear that I need to do something to cut down on the nannying expenses, so that I can save some money and have the option to have a life of my own with D somewhere, where people can't ruin my entire day before it's even started. At least it would be a life of my own making, no matter how hard it was.

Please don't read this post if you are easily offended or one of those people that thinks TMI is possible.

In the process of trying to work on my marriage, I am making compromises that dh cannot even fathom. For example, I am having sex with him on a regular basis even though I don't want to and am pretty bored by the whole thing, actually. Here's how it went last night afterwards:

H: Wow, that was great.

Me: Un huh. Actually, I'm pissed that after 8 years you still can't find my vagina and blindly stab around until you land in there. And I'm furthermore pissed that you never think to try to find it any other way than with that bludgeoning tool you like so much. And I'm even furthermore pissed that you think it is GREAT, when we've used the same 3 positions for the last 8 years. Just how much of this do you think I can take anyway? Read the Kama Sutra or something.

Me: We should read the Kama Sutra or something.

H: (sleepily) Yeah. I doubt they could teach us anything we don't know! (pokes me)

Me: Stony silence while pretending to go to sleep.

And there you have it my friends. I admit here and now that I have faked many more orgasms than I have actually had.  He just won't do it my way even though we have talked about it endlessly. At bottom, he is a guy in his 20s and just wants to get the thing in and get R done and go to sleep. There is no work or foreplay or anything involved. Although, if he read this, and that's always a possibility since he knows this blog exists and I can't figure out how to move it, he would tell you that he is a considerate lover and he has done plenty to get me in the mood. Especially last night. Yes, because he actually kissed me last night, and more than once, before trying to stick his whammy in me.

For a long time I thought it was my body issues that kept me from enjoying sex with him. After last night, I realize I am just bored and that he hasn't developed past what he was 8 years ago. And I need more. Sometimes it would be nice to have music or candlelight; sometimes, how about even one time, it would be nice to have a considerable amount of preparation involved before the big hurrah. I'd like to try tantric sex. I need positions that are not our old standby. That's the only way I can muster enough enthusiasm to keep trying this over and over until he is happy.

Okay, all through with the TMI. It's a long holiday weekend, which in our house is always a dangerous thing. I want to go places and spend money; he wants to hang out and drink beer. Lil pill ends up watching much more TV than he should, I end up cleaning the house by myself, and Mr. A ends up surfing the internet and posting pictures of our son on his my space page. Three days off! woo hoo

I really don't know this person

Actual email sent to me by dh 5 minutes ago
__________________
Subject: FBI assassin

The FBI had an opening for an assassin. After all the
background checks, interviews, and testing were done
there were 3 finalists. Two men and a woman.

For the final test, the FBI agents took one of the men
to a large metal door and handed him a gun. "We must
know that you will follow your instructions no matter
what the circumstances. Inside the room you will find
your wife sitting in a chair. Kill Her!

The man said, "You can't be serious, I could never
shoot my wife." The agent said, "Then you're not the
right man for this job. Take your wife and go home."

The second man was given the same instructions. He
took the gun and went into the room. All was quiet for
about 5 minutes. The man came out with tears in his
eyes, "I tried, but I can't kill my wife."

The agent said, "You don't have what it takes. Take
your wife and go home."

Finally, it was the woman's turn. She was given the
same instructions, to kill her husband. She took the
gun and went into the room. Shots were heard, one
after another. They heard screaming, crashing, banging
on the walls. After a few minutes, all was quiet. The
door opened slowly and there stood the woman. She
wiped the sweat from her brow.

"This gun is loaded with blanks" she said. "I had to
beat him to death with the chair."

MORAL: Women are evil. Don't mess with them

Ah yes, Mr. A. At your heart, this isn't just a funny email. It's what you really believe. If you think you're going to mess with ME, I'm not rolling over and playing dead for you any more.

Only mine are serious. Seems it's all I can think about.

Do you even want to work on this anymore?

Who are you and what have you done with my husband?

Is it life, or me, or growing up, or that you're not the center of attention constantly, that has made you so angry, bitter, and sad?

Will I have to fight tooth and nail for each moment with my son to be a positive one? Why can't you be better than your father was---you hated him!

I don't know you anymore. I don't think I love you anymore. I wonder if I ever have. I need to find the courage to leave. Your laugh annoys me. Your stories aren't funny. All you ever want to do is shoot, watch war movies, and talk about guns.

What happened to my life? All of a sudden my 20s and now some of my 30s have disappeared. I don't know if I deserve to find love again. I don't know that I can ever trust anyone else with my heart. I know I will have a really hard time ever trusting anyone else with our son. How could you think of him as a burden? How could you want to be with some bimbo that won't care anything for him-because she's focusing on you, as you require? How do you think it makes me feel to hear that all the work I've put into this child might be destroyed because you'd rather screw some floozy than make a good life with us? You say you won't...you've said it all before.

If I leave you and you disappear physically or even emotionally...pill loses. But yet, there have been studies that even a bad father is better than no father. Will you stick around, for him? Will you protect him from all the people your life will be by your choice entangled with, people that I would never ever want to influence someone so perfect and impressionable?