A dusting of snow!
Little pink houses almost done:
Earmuffs:
Trying on her Christmas dress:
Much to B’s horror, he is Mr. February in the 2012 work calendar:
I sent this to my niece and she screamed like it was real:
I got sick and gave up on the tree:
And I’ve been here since:
Me: Uncle. I can’t finish NaBloPoMo.
B: You have to.
Me: Can’t.
B: Sit down and write right now.
Me: I don’t have anything to say. NOTHING. I am a blank slate of nothingness.
B: Talk about . . . what you did today.
Me: I didn’t do anything.
B: Really? Nothing at all?
Me: Can’t you say something funny?
B: I’m sure I have.
Me: You haven’t. Not one funny thing all day. I called you once and you told me that someone got killed on your jobsite. That is the opposite of funny.
B: Well, I’m sorry I SHARE MY LIFE WITH YOU.
Me: Stop it.
B: You stop it.
Me: I am posting this conversation, word for word.
B: You really didn’t do anything today, did you?
Me (calling B on his way home from work): I need something sweet. What are you by?
B: You know what I am by, I’m on my way home.
Me: Well, I just don’t know.
B: I’m by Wendy’s, how about a frosty?
Me: I’ve never had a frosty, I don’t think I will like it.
B: Ok, what do you want?
Me: Something . . . like . . . ice cream.
B: So you want Skinny Cow’s?
Me: Well, I think I want something ice creamy with stuff in it.
B: So you want Ben & Jerry’s?
Me: Yes!
B: Can we just cut to the fucking chase next time and say, “I want Ben & Jerry’s”?
Me: Yeah.
B: Thank you. See in a few minutes.
Well, that month just happened. I am so in fear of January that I probably shouldn’t even be talking shit about it while it is still the reigning month, or it will come over here and kick the shit out of my already bruised and exhausted body.
I mean, bad things were just rolling in, back to back. Even if they didn’t directly effect me, things were happening around me that were devastating other people.
To recap: a family friend and old teacher dies suddenly of a brain tumor, my dad goes into the hospital, he gets out and my great uncle dies suddenly leaving us all wandering around bumping into each other dazed and stunned, my dad starts behaving strangely, and we think it’s the grief and the medicine, but it turns out it’s an infection (probably from the hospital) that lands him back in the hospital, B blew up the engine of his truck, a client at work cancels her project because her sister died, a friend/coworker of my sister who is only 33 died, a guy in our small town stopped to help some people in a car crash and another car hit and killed him. All this with Haiti in the background, on all of our minds, and televisions, weighing heavy on our hearts.
During all of this I had an apocalyptic cold, ear infection and sinus infection, so I am sure that if asked to remember the details of this month they will be lost forever in a strange haze. I remember driving home from the hospital one day, so sick that I couldn’t even really focus, watching the rain roll down the car window and thinking: well, fuck.
Here is what does stand out: when my mom called and said she had bad news, I thought she was going to say something about my dad, and my whole body stopped. It was the weirdest thing, like you think that your heart will beat fast or your stomach will turn, but I literally felt all my processes just come to a stop. I was as still as I have ever been. And then when she told me our uncle had died, I didn’t even cry, even though my heart was breaking, because part of me was so fucking relieved that nothing had happened to my dad.
It happened again later that week, when I woke up and grabbed my phone and saw two calls back to back from my sister from 6:00 in the morning. Everything went still, and silent, while I dialed back and waited for her to answer. Her news was just that dad was back in the hospital, and it’s like I could hear things starting up again.
The price of that stillness, of course, is that apparently it expends superhuman energy, because after that I am exhausted.
During this whole time, my job is nuts. NUTS, you guys. I am not complaining, I asked to be challenged and I got what I asked for. It’s just that coupled with the drama in life, I have been going to work, working at a Wall Street type pace, and then coming home, eating, and going to bed. B’s birthday came and went, our anniversary came and went, both with promises to celebrate them later when people feel like celebrating.
Notice there is no room in there for my resolutions. My resolutions are totally mocking me. Lose 30 pounds? Gain 5 pounds! Learn to sew? Find a sewing machine cover to keep the dust out!
So I am declaring Feb. 1st as the new start of the year. I am going to pretend that January never happened. I am going to have champagne and toast to the New Year and wake up in the morning and say things like, “New Year, New Me!”
Then, I am going to celebrate B’s birthday and the day I married him, because if you ever have a month like January 2010, you should have a B by your side.
Today we had family drama. Which really seems to be the main drama in our lives, aside from the whole barren womb thing. Is there anything more exhausting than the combination of guilt and frustration and obligation and anger that family drama causes?
This drama centers around someone who is really sick and might die in the next couple of days. Someone who has done some terrible things to the family, and ruled with an iron fist and fear, who is now the weak one that needs people. And my bitter heart can’t bend.
I don’t know, people. I read last night that depression is, if anything, a crisis of energy. Doesn’t that make perfect sense? It is like my body is just spitting out the disc, unable to read this drama. Don’t think I am a horrible person, I’m not. I would tell you the wrongs that this person committed but this isn’t the place for that. It doesn’t even really matter what I think, this is B’s side, it is his call, his forgiveness. And he is such a good person, I am so fierce when it comes to seeing him hurt. Now I have to watch him agonize over whether to issue some deathbed reprieve? How about not doing the bad things in the first place, and letting the deathbed be a place of love? I always want to go back, before the hurt. It seems easier to time travel than it does to heal a wrong sometimes.
I think what I am looking for, it’s called grace. Sure could use some right now.
B: I think I have Scarlett’s Fever.
Me: Do you mean Scarlet Fever, or did you actually meet a girl named Scarlet and catch her fever?
B: Whatever, honey. You know what I mean.
Me: I don’t. Why do you think you have Scarlet Fever? Do you have a sore throat? A bright red tongue?
B: What, dude? I’m antsy from being inside all day.
Me: . . .
B: You know, when people are inside for too long and they start to go crazy?
Me: DUDE, do you mean CABIN FEVER?
B: RIGHT! CABIN FEVER! I think I have that.
Synchronizing our calendars:
Me: I am going learn how to play Bunco on the 30th.
Him: Where?
Me: At Maria’s little friends house.*
Him: Who?
Me: You know Maria?
Him: Yes.
Me: Her little friend . . .
Him: The super skinny one?
Me: NO. THE LITTLE PERSON!
Him: The midget?
Me: Yes, but people don’t call them that anymore.
Him: We don’t have to be politically correct here, the goal is for me to know what the fuck you are talking about.
Me: Well now you know! When I say “little person” I mean “person formerly known as a midget”.
Him: (BIG SIGH) What was the date again?
*Edited to add: No relation to FUCKING MARIA.
While driving:
Me: So, we have that bbq.
Him: I don’t want to go.
Me: They are cool, you just have to get know them!
Him: Getting to know people is like, for third grade.
Me: Totally.
Silence.
Me: Except online. I love my online friends. No awkwardness, I just learn shit about them.
Him: No awkwardness, EVER?
Me: No, not really. And if there was, you just SIGN OFF.
Him: I like it!
Me: And most of them know about the bunk baby maker thing too, so they don’t ask when we are having kids.
Him: That’s nice.
Silence.
Me: Like the other day, I twittered that I was nervous about the lawyer appointment for the surrogacy, and almost right away, an internet friend was like, “oh no, do you want to DM?” That’s awesome.
Him: What the fuck is DM?
Me: Direct message, dude. So that not everyone can read it.
Him: This is why I wouldn’t be good online. Someone would ask me if I wanted to DM and I would be like, “Motherfucker, do I want to what? I’ll DM you right in the DM, if you know what I’m saying.”
Me: WOW.
Him: I know.
Me: So, no on the bbq?
Him: I don’t think so.
Silence.
Him: Don’t forget too, we got that invite to go to that pool party?
Me: A POOL PARTY? I am confident that I did not, in fact, receive an invitation to a pool fucking party. I would have remembered.
Him: Well, we didn’t get the invitation, they forgot us, but they sent one to your sister, so we saw it at her house.
Me: It wasn’t —
Him: It was the one you said “mortally offended” your “sense of decorum”.
Me: I KNEW IT. I am not going to that party.
Him: Because of the invite?
Me: Honey, the invite was a black and white crooked photocopy of a picture of their baby with a dude standing in the background that they didn’t bother to crop out, so all you see is their baby, grainy like, and some dudes junk. Then they folded it in quarters, and then wrote with PENCIL “Please come to our pool party”.
Him: Bush league!
Me: It’s not even Bush league, honey. I think it’s passive aggressive, really. It’s like “come to my party, because I love you, but I hate you so much I can’t even crop this dudes junk out of the picture.” And in our case, since we didn’t even get an actual invite, they aren’t even loving us at all, but just subjecting us to the baby/junk picture.
Silence.
Him: So no on the pool party?
Me: I just don’t know any of them, you know?
Him: Yeah, I know.
(A glass candle gets knocked over and cracks down the side.)
Him: (Inspecting it) I think we can still use it.
Me: I don’t think so.
Him: Why not?
Me: I don’t know . . .
Him: What’s the worst thing that can happen?
Me: Well, we could light it, and the glass could heat up and swell and then explode because of the crack, sending tiny shards of glass flying through the air. A piece could lodge into my temple and paralyze me. Then you would have to spend the rest of your life taking care of me just because you wanted to save fifteen dollars.
Him: Well . . . fuck.
Me: I know!
Ten minutes later:
Him: THAT CANDLE WAS FIFTEEN DOLLARS?
Me: AND I was the jury foreman, which sucked.
Him: Why?
Me: Well, I kind of volunteered. There was –
Him: LET ME GUESS. They asked who wanted to be the jury foreman and then there was an awkward silence, and you couldn’t handle it so you loudly blurted out that you would do it, just to make the awkward silence stop.
Me: Well. Yes. That is actually exactly what happened.
Him: I know, honey. I know.
I Digress: Tales From a Baby-Starved Wingnut 