Embrace the Suck in Ma-jick Mo-ments (November 2019)

was on a patch on someone’s backpack. It kind of encapsulates my life right now. I’m up against some kind of wall: it’s part stubbornness, part apathy, part the speed of the changes, part procrastination, and it’s all annoying AF. This wall is keeping me from doing a lot of things. I get home, that wall keeps me from “being useful” around the house (that and the utter fucking cold. It’s like living in a fridge, and my bedroom is no-jokes 40 degrees for part of the night.)

I know millions and millions of moms juggle school, kids, and work. And I know my needed output for any of those is pretty tiny, considering. I mean, sure, they’re special needs, but they have a routine. (If they’d follow the fucker.) And school is relatively low key right now, with some of the big shit out of the way. And Nano isn’t required. That’s a hobby. I shouldn’t do it, but I look forward to it all year, so why can’t I? And house. I know that most people give in and do the shit, all the shit, but fuck that. Where does my husband’s free ride stop?

He’s home. He’s not doing anything. No, really. Well, he somewhat supervises Adia’s lineup of live lessons from virtual school, but he isn’t even making her lunch or anything. He dozes all day. Literally. If he’s not dozing, he’s watching YouTube. It’s…annoying. He doesn’t even get off the couch for his own snacks or anything: he has the kids bring that over. They’re running wild in the house if I’m not there, and he’s in the middle, saying “I was sick!” or…some other bullshit.

So much bullshit. So…I don’t do the little shit. Except when I’m desperate. Some days, I sit there, look at it all, and think, “I can go one more day without doing that. I’m going to.”

And that’s wrong, and it bothers me, but at the same time, it is very liberating.

Once upon a time, I did care what the house looked like. I kept the floors clean while the girls were babies, because babies will put anything in their mouth and that’s just not right. I mopped daily. I vacuumed twice a week or more. I had the girls pick up their toys before dinner. (After dinner was bedtime routine for two hours.) And that was life. Day in, day out.

But he broke that, and then, he didn’t stick to what I made even when he shoved me out. That’s how I feel most days: shoved out. Pushed aside. Like I got the kids through the tough patches and the shitty sleep and the potty learning and the indoor voices and not flinging butter at the ceiling (don’t ask) and all of that, and then he took my spot. And not only did he take that spot, he undid me all around the house. He didn’t stand up for my entryway paint job (I painted it green). He repainted it. White. He’d told me for years and years I could personalize the house, and I finally thought, “hey, now. I could live here.” I matched that green paint to a giant Asian fan (water dragons) and I was going to have a lovely foyer. I had a pot of dried flowers for a console table. I have my great grandma’s doilies (they’re hand crocheted.) I had a room I could be proud of…for like a week.

And then he took it apart. Now I don’t paint. And I don’t live there. I eat and sleep there, and I have kids there, but I don’t live there. I don’t live anywhere. Maybe in my car. Which I have to make payments on. God.

I’m not sure if he’s trying to get it repossessed or what. He promised to make the November payment, and it is November, and he had money…but my car payment wasn’t made. The fuck? I let him spend “my” money, because we need household necessities, and he didn’t leave me enough for the car payment. Which was okay, because he said he had it. And then he didn’t have it, and he didn’t say a thing. I only found out because the finance office called.

He said “the money just ran out too fast.” But…Well, dammit. He used family money to buy HIS car, which now stalls randomly anywhere it likes. (Usually at long lights.)

But he didn’t give me access to family money for that, I had to borrow from Aunt Pat. And I repaid her. In full. Because that shit’s important. In a very real sense, when he takes what little I get monthly and spends it right away, he’s borrowing from me, and he never repays anything. He just can’t keep a promise.

And I’m still fucking pissed about that. I keep finding more and more to be pissed about. I feel like a tea kettle. For a long time, I bubbled along. I always had a bit of something for everyone who needed something. But now I’m empty, but the heat is still on. I refuse to melt. Not for him. He doesn’t get to win.

The countdown is ticking along. And until then…well, I can just Embrace the Suck and remember that I’m never ever ever having another relationship. This was it. I’m done. A multi-function vibrator is way less fucking fuss than this shit, and probably more fun, too.

And I don’t ever have to hear it endlessly whine that it loves me.