Pathway to Divorce: Activities Couples Should Avoid

** Originally written in July, 2012*

My relationship with Hubs is a solid one. I love him and the thought of losing my beloved scares all bodily fluids out of me. However, there are some activities even the most dedicated and in love couples should not do together... because simply put, they are the pathway to divorce.

Hang wall paper. My parents almost got divorced over this twenty-six years ago. You can imagine their disappointment when my high school boyfriend decided he should play "butt-pinball" will my baby brother thrown over his shoulder and he bounced my brother's ass off the walls and ultimately straight through the wall and the wallpaper.

Shop for Televisions. Forget about what type to buy. Plasma, LED, LCD... is that even right? I don't know and frankly, my Dear, I don't give a damn. Just get me a tv that is the right size. This is probably the only time you will hear me say, "Smaller is better" unless we're talking about tumors or my dress size, of course.

Assembling Anything. Here it is people. Avoid the AA of marriage. Just don't do it. It'll never come out right and you'll always have extra parts left over. In case your married to a doc too, here's a friendly piece of advice... Don't look at the extra screws in your hand and ask your doctor Hubs if he finds himself with extra parts after surgery. Just don't do it.

Move furniture. Specifically, move furniture upstairs. You have a bad back and your wonderbrain husband tells you, you don't have to "lift" you just have to "slide" the furniture "up" the stairs. You say things don't "slide" up; they slide "down". He say's he'll do the pushing, you just "guide". You see him tilt the damn thing on it's side and you KNOW with CERTAINTY this shananigan will end disastrously. Something is going to break or get damaged...your back, his back, the dresser, the newly textured and painted walls, the new hardwood flooring, stairs, banister, a combo, or quite possibly everthing in its path. You bitch, you moan, you groan, you give the stink eye, you hiss and piss all over this stupid brainchild of your husband. But you unwillingly participate, because if you don't and it all goes to hell, you'll be blamed for your lack of help. You hate him at the bottom of the stairs... and you absolutely detest him at the top of the stairs because, DAMMIT to hell! It worked. Like a charm. But you decide to be mad anyways....because, it was a stupid idea and it should not have worked.

The Hairband, The Toilet, & the Toothbrush

I was in a sleepy, Sunday morning, slumber when Hubs stumbled from bed towards the bathroom. I laid in my warm little cocoon trying to find my way back to the sandman.

The door to the bathroom shut (loudly) and just as quickly as he entered, the door re-opened.

"Elaina! Why is you hairband in the toilet?!"

I tried to open my eyes, but all I could muster was a squint as I was bombarded with Sunday morning sunshine.

I wrestled within sleepy myself to find my voice "Ugh! I don't know!" How in the hell am I supposed to know anything at this early hour?

Hubs was already fumbling down the hall to the kids bathroom. "Well, you need to fish it out!"

{Good Morning to you, too, my love. Sleep bully. Sleep bully. Sleep bully!}

The door to the hall bath shuts (loudly).

{Hey, man! I'm trying to sleep! Don't you worry, I'll fish it out. I'll fish it out alright! I know exactly how I'll do it, too!}

Just then I hear the bathroom door open and Hubs yells, "And don't use my toothbrush, either!"

Darn!

Plan foiled.

Fine!

Where's his hairbrush?

Spousal Chatter (In the Garden)

**Originally written July, 2012**

Bigger than a bridal bouquet

I was out front watering my flowers in the garden, when Hubs came home from the hospital and pulled into the driveway.

After parking the car in the garage, he came back out to say hello and make a close inspection of my and our gardner's work.

He approved of the work, complimenting my green thumb. As he was heading back inside the house, he paused at our juniper...

"Oh, look! He shaved your bush."

Spousal Chatter: My Homecoming

 You really must read I Effed My Husband Real Good for the background story to this post.

After spending all night wrestling with a restless dog (really, the dog-- not Doc H) in my bed, waking up at 5:30 am, cleaning the vacation home all day until 3pm, and driving 215 miles home in the pimp mobile (a 1997 minivan with gold rims, the most stylish black bra you've ever seen, and a tear the size of Texas in the leather of the driver's side seat) with two dogs, two kids, a box of Red Vines and a frozen, organic, free range ham (don't ask), we finally arrived home to an empty house at 7:30 pm. Doc H was still at the hospital. We hadn't seen him since Sunday morning and have hardly spoken on the phone.

I put the dogs out in the yard and noticed all my flowers and plants have fainted from lack of a clear liquid simply called water. I opened the hose to quench their thirst.

Twenty minutes roll by and a tasmanian devil spins through the front door, and house, and out the back door to our yard only stopping his wreckless spinning to utter in disbelief...

"AGH!!! I just got called to ANOTHER emergency! Hrmpffffff. I GOTTA GO!"

Me: "Ummmmm....... hi?"

I Effed My Husband Real Good

***written June 11, 2012***

 I try to be forthcoming and truthful on this blog. I have never been one to exaggerate or contort the facts to the benefit of myself... or others.

I blog as if I am a journalist. I'm not a puff ball like Lara Spencer from Good Morning America. I think I'm more along the lines of a Lisa Ling. I get dirty. I sweat bullets over my ground-breaking, earth-shattering, monumentally popular blog. After all, my blog is the must read of all blogs ever written. {ahem}

So, it should come to no one's surprise that I am always quick to deliver hard-hitting news of Hub's missteps, faults if you will, in our marriage. If you remember, I was very quick to point out his forgetfulness which led to a Fruit-of-the-Loom underwear splurge at Rite-Aid. His driving has always been questionable at best. His home repairs always require surgical tape. And lastly, let us not forget the times he has left me high and dry in the name of his scalpel.

In the name of fairness, transparency, and balance,  I feel I must share this tidbit with you, dear Reader.  I preface this admission by reminding you how we wives live a righteous life... one filled with piety, purity, and an overall sanctitude, sacrificing ourselves for our spouses and children. We are last to sit at the dining table. We eat the burnt toast, the bread loaf heels and any other neglected food pieces, all to pleasure and benefit our family. Our sacrificial actions and intentions are always a demonstration of love in its most genuine form. I found myself reminding Hubs of this numerous times this evening.

My intentions and actions were for the benefit of the children... and our dog. All good. All wholesome.

We spent the week at our vacation home. Our third daughter brought a lovely friend and our dog. Said friend had to be home on Friday afternoon. Hubs had time off until Monday. We travelled in two cars, so Hubs could relax and vacation over the weekend by himself. 

While there last week and we traded cars one afternoon, so he could take the teen girls and the dog out and about while I lunched with a friend. 

The next day, I left for home with the girls.

He called four hours into my drive home. 

"Where are my keys?"

"I dunno. I'm driving."

"Where are my keys? In your purse? You drove the car last."

GULP.

"Hum, en, a...I'm driving. Lots of traffic. Look in house. Must be there somewhere. Bad connection. No can hear you."

CLICK. {sweat. bullets.} SCHEISSE.

I know I have them. I know he's looking. I know I put them in my purse and never put them back. Ohhhh, he's a gonna be mad atta meeeeee........

Yes. Here it is. Here it goes. Brace yourself...

Here are your keys, Honey.
You still love me, right?

Source

{itwasallmyfaultiforgottoputhiskeysbackwheretheybelong}

Hard-hitting, truthful journalism. 

I will be making the four+ hour drive up tomorrow morning at the crack of dawn with two kids and another dog that doesn't even technically belong to us (step-dog, if you will) in our thirteen year old minivan nicknamed "The Pimp-Mobile".

{becauseitwasallmyfault}

Hubs should be okay for 24 hours. The house is properly stocked. I know there's no food in the house, but there is wine. Plenty of wine in our wine cabinet. I think he'll survive.

Wait. What's that? The wine cabinet key is on your keychain which is in my possession? And it's locked?

Oh, Honey, I  f*@#ed you real good.

I'm Guessing My Husband Doesn't Read This Blog

**Originally written June 3, 2012**

Hubs has a snarky sense of humor... which I LOVE!

I'm thinking Hubs doesn't read this blog. 

Or, at the very least, understand the premise of this blog.

What do you think?

... And for the record, he drove. 

And we ended up at the wrong place. 

If you ask him, we were given the wrong address.

If you ask me, the outcome would've been the same,

no matter what address we were given.

Spousal Chatter {Drive Thru}

Running three hours behind on our road trip, Hubs and I decide to run through a drive-thru. We don't do fast food often, so we really don't know how or what to order. Since Hubs had only slept about 10 hours out of the last 72 hours, I was driving.

Obesity Pusher (OP): Welcome to "We Feed You Pink Slime and Fill Your Arteries with Plaque Build UP". May I take your order?
Me: I'll have a mini-meal.
OP: Which one?
Me: Cheeseburger.
OP: We only have a double cheeseburger mini-meal.
Me: Uhhh, okay, but no mayo. With a plain iced tea, please.
OP: Will you be ordering anything else today?
Me: (to Hubs) What do you want?
Hubs: (half asleep in passenger seat) Get me a #11.
Me: (to OP) I need a #11.
OP: Would you like to up that to a large?
Hubs: (to me, very emphatically and disgusted) NO! That's a heart stopper! (he's awake now)
OP: Excuse me?
Me: (to OP) No, no. No large!
OP: What drink would you like with that?

I turn to Hubs and he quickly yells across me, "I'll have an M&M McFlurry with that!"

Heart Stopper.

Spousal Chatter

We spent the weekend at our vacation home (really future retirement home, but we're in denial... "vacation" sounds more palatable). We have already completed the bulk of the remodel, but we still have a few little odds and ends which need to be completed. Since we have family coming, we drove out for a quick weekend trip hoping we could cross a few items of the "to do" list.

Our new place is located is a somewhat rural area. The closest mall is two hours away. The town's economy is primarily driven by tourism, so we do have some hoi-ty toi-ty boutique-style shops, but certainly no department stores...we do have a RiteAid, though.

These are not Calvin Klein's
Photo Credit

(...driving in the car)
Hubs: I forgot to pack underwear. I have to buy some.
Me: We're here for one more night. Can't you just turn them inside out?
Hubs No! Where can I find some?
Me: I don't think you're going to find any.
Hubs: There's an apparel store! (Brakes, squeal, pulls over, ouch, whip lash...we go inside)

Hubs: Hello, Ms. Saleslady. Do you carry men's underwear?
Saleslady: (frowning) Nooooooo, we don't. Saw-reeeee....
Hubs: Do you know where I can buy some?
Saleslady: Umm... did you try RiteAid???

(back in the car)
Hubs: (despondent and defeated) RiteAid?!!! I'm not wearing under from RITEAID!
Me: Where do all the locals buy their underwear?
Doc H: They must all go commando.

*******************************

(...trying to mount a bathroom mirror)
Doc H: (getting tired of holding up the heavy mirror and frustrated with my slow mechanical abilities) Did you get it?!!
Me: I can't get it in the hole!
Hubs: Thank God you're not a man.

Self-Prescribed Retail Therapy: Apple's Ipad 3

The weekend packed quite a punch around here. I'll go in sequential order...

• My father had been visiting his family out of the country for 2 months. His plane was scheduled to arrive at 10pm. It came in at 3am.
• D3 had to be at a track meet at 7am.
• LB had a sleep-over birthday party at noon.
• D2's Beau Hunk was scheduled to fly out Saturday. For reasons Doc H and I are still scratching our heads about, he will be in town for another TWO months.
• D1 called from college begging for our help. Doc H clearly stated over 3 weeks ago a list of action items which needed to be completed before receiving anymore help from us. She failed to comply. She was hoping she could sweet talk Daddy into doing it like before. Apparently she forgot all about her Spring break gone bad.
• Hubs spent HOURS talking to D2 in private, counseling her and trying to get her to see the big picture with regards to her relationship with Beau Hunk. She mentally exhausted him.
• Then Hubs spent an inexplicable amount of time on the phone with D1, reprimanding her for not following through with their agreement.

After all that (plus a call from the on-call attending with regards to a ruptured triple A), Hubs had nothing left to give us. He was irritated and tired. He couldn't even bring himself to enjoy our green shamrock shakes and green cupcakes, all made by D3, or watch a movie with us on PPV.

I asked if I could do anything to help. He calmly said, "No, I'm just so frustrated and irritated."

Ok. I guess I'll just watch the movie with the teens.

I watch him go upstairs. I see him come downstairs and out to the garage. An hour later, we're still watching the movie. I'm sitting in the same exact spot as when I last saw him. I see him walk upstairs with a package in his hand.... Could it be? Is it?

Well, yes, it is...

Apple touts the new IPad 3 has Retina display, 5MP camera, and Ultrafast 4G LTE technology.  I need to add another incredible capability the Ipad 3 possesses...

Mood Enhancer.

Since that little piece of technology has made it's way into our home, it been all smiles and "Oh, wow"s, "Honey, check this out...do you have this app on your Ipad?"

I LOVE seeing Hubs smile!

Thank you, Steve Jobs. What a difference an Ipad 3 makes.