First of all, I just have to say how utterly addicted I am to the net. Wednesday night, my internet kept coming and going and finally went altogether. It (along with my cable and phone) were out ALL DAY yesterday. Let's just say, I got a LOT of work done. But it about drove me crazy and put me into a depression. It came back on around noon my time and I had shaky-leg all through lunch because I was just DYING to go check my email. Not that I even GET any messages or anything. Just to feel reconnected with the world. I've been asking myself why I don't feel the urgent need to get out and make French friends and now I know why... I'm still clinging to my U.S. ones.
Quick update: Went to the 3 Brasseurs for dinner on Tuesday night to celebrate Ryan's first day of school. The service wasn't horrible and the food was pretty good (anything tastes good through a beer mask though, huh?). Here are the things that went wrong anyway: 1) All three children were exhausted--Ryan from having been at school in FRENCH all day, and both girls from having been awakened from naps to go after Ryan in the afternoon; 2) Both Sam and I were exhausted--I had to walk Ryan to school and pick him up...the second time while carrying Lolo and then, Lolo AND the umbrella stroller up two flights of stairs while holding Lily's hand; 3) There was no "animation" this Tuesday night so Ryan was pissy about the clowns not being there; and 4) I got the saurkraut, which was good, but when I realized that I had just paid almost $20 for saurkraut that didn't taste as good as the one I make at home (which comes from a JAR!!!!), I about ralphed it all back up. The GOOD NEWS is... our pizza wagon guys are back from vacation now. It may not be organic, but I don't have to make it!!! And it's cheap... and we can eat it at home... and if Ryan needs a clown, I'll go put a dot on my nose or something. *eyeroll*
So, Wednesday. *sigh* It was a hard day. Ryan was home all day and though he was pretty good for the most part, having him here constantly making loud train noises really got on my nerves. The girls faught all day long. I didn't get much done because just when they all took naps, something would call me away--worthy things, mark you--but not writing or housework. So, when Sam got home, dinner was--ding ding ding--saurkraut and I had to wash enough dishes for us to all eat. Still, I just felt tapped out and spread hair thin. I asked Sam if he'd mind if I put off the dishes and instead went straight to work on my writing. I've been on a roll here lately and I want to ride the wave until I hit a wall. He shrugged. What does he care when I get the work done. As long as he doesn't have to do it, yo.
I quickly took care of the diapers and got a loaf of bread rising but because there was so much cold and rain and wind, I shut the windows of the kitchen, turned on the oven and left the door open. I told Sam to keep the kids out of the kitchen because the oven was on. He grunted.
I closed myself into my office and began to work. Periodically, Ryan would knock on my door, come in and say, "Mom? Do you like baby (insert random animal here)?"
"Of course I do, sweetie. I love all animals."
"Well, I'm a baby (insert same animal) and I go like this."
"Awww, that's so cute you little baby (insert the animal). Now, listen, I'm the mama (insert animal) and I have some important (animal) work to do. Do you think you could be a good baby (animal) and take care of your baby (animal) self for a little while until I get my mama (animal) work done?"
"Mmm hmmmm." And then he would leave the room.
And then, fifteen minutes later, there'd be another knock and I'd have deja vu.
In the middle of a chapter that has been excruciatingly hard to write, Sam bursts into my office with that I'm-your-father-and-I-disapprove-of-what-you've-done look on his face, complete with the you're-a-dumbass eyebrows. "Joj, the damn oven door is open and the oven is on!"
Then, we proceed to have an entire knock-down, drag-out fight about the damn bread and the oven and how I "can't do that because it just keeps running and running" and how an "oven is not designed to heat the kitchen" and how I'm going to "burn the oven out, not to mention throw the electric bill to the roof."
I refrain from correcting his English because I see it as petty, but believe me, I'm tempted. Instead, I tell him he's an idiot and that he doesn't know anything about bread OR ovens... And that if ovens weren't meant to heat up the kitchen then how come my mother always used the oven to heat the house (gas oven) when our electricity would go out, you schmuck!!!???!!!
But I close the oven, turn it off and slam my office door.
He sits on the couch--as usual. It rubs at me like a buzzing fly, so I go to the door and say, "Oh, and you can buy me a dryer then. Okay? Since I use SO much electricity leaving the oven open for half an hour every once in awhile, we should probably get a clothes dryer so that I can dry the damn diapers that I WASH EVERYDAY!!!" And I slam the door closed again.
And I sob.
What an ass. I'm not mad about the oven, y'all. I don't think it's a good idea to leave the oven door open either. But I refuse to buy storebought bread and I need my damn dough to rise. I can use the oven to let it rise and then turn the heat up, but every time I do that, the dough falls when I open the oven to take the tea towel off of it so I can turn the temp up. I don't do the oven door thing ALL the time. Just twice now when it has been super cold and rainy in the kitchen.
It's not about the oven. It's about the attitude. I'm bitter that I seem to be doing everything alone. That he is for the most part compliant, but not an active participant. He nods and agrees when I get on a rant and he comes into whatever room I'm in and says, "Can you make me a diaper" when it's time to change the girls. But he never offers to dump out the pisswater, or hang up the laundry, or wash the damn dishes or peel potatoes or set the table. And I have to nag him to take the trash out and take the recycling to the basement--and there's a frickin' ELEVATOR!!! I would do it but am I to be expected to do EVERY DAMN THING?
So, it's at that point, that I figure that it's pretty much over. I'm back to feeling like I just work here. And then, I think I want out. I actually said, I want to go home. And if I'm going to be DOING everything alone and essentially BEING alone in everything I do except watch TV and go to bed, why not just rid myself of his dead weight and negativity? Why not?
Because first of all, the kids worship him. Because he is not here all day long and not sick of them when he's here for the three frickin' hours they're awake after he gets off work, they see him as this happy, playful, snuggly person who never disciplines or says no. Always ready to give hugs and roll around on the floor... He never says, "I gotta do some work," or "okay, just after I finish the dishes/laundry/dinner/etc." Why wouldn't they worship him?
And the other main reason is that I don't have any money. Hell, I don't even have the frickin' PASSWORDS to the money. I don't know why I feel like it's HIS money, when he would have to go to work in dirty underwear if I wasn't his damn maid.
So, what do I do? I finish off the rest of the bottle of Muscat, the last three bottles of Pelfort Brune and half a bottle of Cotes du Rhone red. I eat Wheat Thins by the handful--because, let's face it, though they taste like flour-y cardboard, booze masks anything and they are supposedly "healthy" snacks. AND I get on line and chat.
For those of you who have ever apologized the next day for "drunk calling" (I have quite a bit of experience in that... for some reason, when I'm slap happy drunk, I like to reach out and touch someone), think about how much MORE trouble you can get into when you "drunk chat." *eyeroll*
And then, just when I'm having fun, my internet goes out!!! AND it means I have to do the ole "walk of shame" a whole day late. I'm sure all my chat buddies were wondering where the hell I was all day yesterday... or they figured that I was in hangover land (which I was, by the way).
OH AND.. the whole time this is going on, I'm baking a NEW batch of bread, yo. Drunk and all. Because I didn't want him to win. I let it rise in the oven and I baked it when it had risen. It wasn't very pretty and it didn't taste great, but it kept him from going to the store and buying bread, jackass!!! And while he just sat there on the frickin' couch and watched TV (that THANKFULLY kept going in and out... LOL... so THERE!!!) I cleaned the damn kitchen. I washed every dish and wiped every surface.
The next morning, I got up, hungover, depressed and still angry and walked into the kitchen. All of the feelings of rage and disappointment came rushing back to me. And I had one question...
Why hadn't he done the dishes?
When he heard me in my office sobbing like a baby, why hadn't he tried to do something to make it right? Why DOESN'T he? Why doesn't he pick up on the fact that I'm TIRED and empty when he gets home and all I want and need is to hide away in my office and release myself through my writing? Why not say, "Hey Babe, go write and I'll hose down the kids?" Why not say, "Hey, I REALLY feel like pizza tonight... Let me go buy one and afterward, you can work a little?"
I mean, I'm not asking to be let out of the house to party. I'm not even asking to go to the movies by myself (which, by the way, was my therapy in Charlotte and is sounding better and better every day... we live WALKING distance from the cinema here). I'm asking... no BEGGING him to let me WORK. *maniacal laughter* Can you BELIEVE that?
Anyway, speaking of... Like I said, not having internet yesterday forced me to really hammer out some kinks in my adoption memoir. I wrote three chapters yesterday during the day--of course, still punctuated, as usual, by diapers, bottles, sippy cups and fighting--and then another two last night. I made Sam sit in my office and listen to me read my last chapter I wrote last night and he was crying at the end of it (not because it sucked, thank you very much).
I'm feeling good about this book. I feel like I might have had a breakthrough. So, the internet going out and me wallowing in depression ended up being a blessing in disguise... Not that I EVER want to repeat it... PLEASE GOD AND THE UNIVERSE, DON'T CUT MY UMBILICAL CORD AGAIN!!!
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