Sunday, July 22, 2007

Marital Roller Coaster

So, marriage and relationships are all just a bunch of twists and turns on a roller coaster. And you know, I hate roller coasters. I mean, what’s the point? They make you dizzy, they spin you upside-down, they make you unsure of what’s coming next. They make you mess up your hair, feel out of control, and sometimes, they make you puke. How is that fun?

This weekend, we had some marital ups and downs, and I swear, the man in this house was experiencing what I can only term as Male-Syndrome-PMS. Seriously. And it must have been a male-full-moon cuz some of the other dads in the ‘hood were experiencing these PMS symptoms.

Saturday a.m. I awoke at my regularly scheduled time of, say, about 9 or 9:30. Is it MY fault that Mr. Manic has some obscure internal clock set to 6 a.m. on the weekends? Nooooo? Do I kick him out of bed saying, “Get your lazy ass up and make those kids some breakfast; I worked hard all week. It’s your turn to microwave the waffles!”? Nooooo. I don’t make these demands. He’s free to do what he wants on the weekends too. Nobody’s putting a gun to his head telling him to get up and play dad.

So, he’s up, doing whatever he does, and then I get up, all cheery and happy, glad the weather is so beautiful, glad that my family is together. I suggest a family walk. The doorbell rings. Six or ten neighbor kids grab my kids so they all go out to play. So much for a family walk. I suggest that maybe I’ll go for a walk on my own.

“What about that refrigerator? Have you given any thought to what you want to do about the fridge in the basement?” he asks.

Well, yes, I have thought about it, and I’ve nagged him for about two months to bring home the cart-thinga-ma-giggy he needs to pull the fridge up from the basement so we can put it into the garage. He’s finally brought it home, and he wants to do this project N O W.

“I sent you an email about it.”

“What email?”

“I sent you an email asking you to clean out that area in the garage to get it ready.”

Dude. An email? Do we not communicate with one another ever anymore? WTF is that all about? Of course, I didn’t say this.

Then, he hurts his finger, cuts it on some ball or something, and it is an owie and this makes him grumpy, and he’s fussing and putzing around and finally I say, “Are you in a bad mood or something?”

“I want to get that fridge set up! I sent you an email. The kids are fighting, you’re sleeping in (he didn’t really say this, I’m just adding for the effect!).”

“God! OK, let’s get the freaking fridge and do it! I just thought we could do it this afternoon. Don’t freak out. What do you have, like PMS or something!?”

So, we go down to the basement and he’s ranting and raving because I didn’t clean out the fridge (all it has in there are some Mike’s Hard Lemonades from like 2003, and a half bottle of Bailey’s, and a frozen pack of hamburger buns).

He starts pulling the shit out and griping and I’m bitching at him, and he says, “I hope I live long enough to experience the lap of luxury you all live in.”


I start crying, tell him this is just great. He’s ruining the day because he’s in a pissy mood and now he’s got me upset and I’m yelling at Diva to pick up all the G-Damn beads she has strewn all over the basement, so now he’s making ME be mean just because he was mean.

Then I pull out the EFF word. I’m going to use it here so you can understand the magnitude of it.

“Fuck this! You are ruining the whole day! Fuck you! I don’t even want to go to the party with you tonight, you bastard. Don’t make us all feel bad because you’re in a crappy mood!”

Then…from me…

“You fucker!”

I turn the corner, and there’s Diva, primly placing all the beads back into the box. “Hi honey. You’re doing a good job. Thank you,” I tell her.

Then he’s trying to get the fridge out the entryway, and we are convinced the previous owners had the basement finished AFTER the fridge was already down there and there’s no way the fridge is coming up.

Screw it.

“Let me know if you need help.” Then I go upstairs. “Fucker.” Under my breath.

Twenty minutes later, I go back down and he’s nowhere in sight. I start to freak a little thinking he’s got himself in such a tizzy he’s collapsed and had a heart attack, and he’s dead and the very last words I said to him was, “You fucker.” That would not bode well for the future as a widow.

“I’m sorry for your loss. What was the last thing he said to you?”

“Well, I can’t exactly remember, but I know I called him a fucker before he keeled over and died.”


So, I finally figure he’s probably gone to the neighbor to get help with the fridge and when I go over to their backyard, there he is, helping the neighbor with their pool cover. And the neighbor’s wife is practically in tears cuz her husband was mad about something too! We are like whispering in the corner that we can’t stand them, and why are they so mean and what is it, a full-moon-male PMS day or what?

Then, he comes over and kisses me.

I turn my head and spit. Nah, just kidding, I don’t. I just say, “Quit being a fucker.”

OK, so this is turning out to be way longer than I anticipated, but in the end, he got the neighbor to help bring up the fridge while I went for a walk, because I wanted to be NOWHERE near that escapade when they tried to lug it upstairs.

Then, I decided not to be mad, and somehow we made up, cuz this is how we fight—we yell and scream (or I do, most of the time anyway), and then we go to our separate corners (well, I do, anyway) to lick our wounds, and then somehow, we regroup and we’re not mad anymore.

I did say, “My feelings were hurt with that comment about us living the lap of luxury.” (Notice how I expressed it with saying how I felt, not how HE made me feel? I think that’s a Dr. Phillism, right?)

And he did say, “I’m sorry.”

And then I said, “OK, I’m going to Jimmy John’s for a sandwich, want one?”

Later, Diva said out of the blue, “Mom, I heard you say the EFF word.”

“I know honey, and I’m very sorry. I was really angry and I shouldn’t have said it.”

“It made my heart beat fast,” she said.

“Did it scare you?” I asked.

“Yes, and then you said the EFF word and then ER too. That’s bad.”

“Yes, that was bad, and I’m sorry, and Mommy and Daddy are OK and we love each other and I shouldn’t have said those words, but let me tell you something missy, men can sometimes be fuckers and it’s up to us women to make sure they know when they are being fuckers, OK hon?”

Bwahhahahahah! Kidding.

So, the party was fun, at our neighbors who just pimped up their backyard with an outside bar that’s so awesome, you feel like you’re at a resort with the pool, and the flat screen and the ambiance. Someone joked that we’re going to have start needing a passport to get access to their backyard.

We got home around midnight, kids included, so everyone slept in this a.m., and then we had a little connection this a.m., and you know what, and I’m going to be talking S E X here, so if you don’t want to hear it, like if you’re Mr. Manic’s SISTER or MOM or MY MOM and don’t want to know about it, skip this part. With kids in the house, and I’ve discussed this before, sometimes I just cannot relax, but even just a little quickie can make the day start out so much nicer. Seriously. I am in the best mood. You then get to go through the day knowing there’s someone who loves and adores you no matter what your body looks like, no matter how bad your breath is, and that person would take you as you are, every day for your life, it doesn’t matter. And that’s what’s special about it now. Yeah, simultaneous Os can be explosive and all that, but not always necessary. Just the connection of knowing that person whom you’ve committed your life to continues to love you each and every day, no matter how much of a fucker he can be sometimes.

And that’s something to be really grateful for. I love my Mr. Manic.


Anonymous said...

I hate being in the middle of moments like these. It's like the marital sky is falling. But somehow, it seems to purge the relationship, clear out all the pent up grudges. Glad it ended well.

la bellina mammina said...

You sum it up really well - kinda what's been happening in my household... So it's not only me..

make up sex is always the best huh? Glad you made up! ;-)

xxxx said...

OK, I KNOW it's not funny, and I KNOW I would have wanted to throw a glass mug at his head (not that, uh, I do stuff like that or anything) ... but I laughed just a TINY bit only because I could totally picture him saying that stuff and you going off on him. Where did he get that lap of luxury line?!?!

Monnik said...

ha. This could have been written by me. Glad I'm not alone.

cubmommy said...

OMG, my Hubby was acting the same way on Saturday. He woke up with male PMS. I was out running errands and he calls me wanting to know if I was getting the kids and him lunch or what(he said that). I asked what he wanted started giving me attitude and said whatever and hung up on me. So I called him back and when he answered I called him a dick he tells me not to yell at him and I said all I fucking wanted to know is what he wanted to eat. He said he did not want anything and I said fine and hung up on him.

We made up later but still it must have been in the air Saturday.

Stephanie J. Blake said...

My DH and I always fight during 3 things--guaranteed. 1. When he is driving in a parking lot. (He can't ever pick a spot and can't park my van, so we end up lurching around, until I say "Let me out.") 2. During any home improvement moment (because I am the handy one, and he is inept.) 3. During PMS (because during that time, I have this strange ultra sensitiveness to dirt and germs, and go nuts cleaning every little thing with a toothbrush, at which point we'll fight when I mutter, "How come I am the only one who ever cleans the GD shower?").

We have 2 or 3 major blowouts a year, where I could either hit him in the head with a skillet OR leave him on the side of the road OR flick him on the forehead. We usually end up laughing because it is ridiculous. We have 3 kids, a minivan and a mortgage. No one's getting out of here unless they drop dead.

Glad it ended well.Thanks for the snorting laughter this morning!!!

kim said...

There MUST have been a male PMS moon, I could cut and paste almost all of this and post it to my blog.

Eff bombs a plenty -- one of the girls asked if we were getting a divorce. Dude would not stop with the infuriating -- "I'm not being an asshole" -- negativity (my sister deems it "rightous cleaning" -- when they lift a finger because they have to because their wife has obviously been eating the bon bons all week, again).

I reasurred the kids that we were not divorcing, but that it's a good idea if they go to the store with daddy so mom and dad can get a time out -- regroup (and so I could get some more of that "luxury").

The regrouping went swell -- "mom loves dad" chalk drawings and all.

but why? why do they do that?

Unknown said...

Mine was PMSing, too! I actually refused to blog about this weekend because of it!

Though I hate that any of us had to experience this, it does make me feel better knowing I wasn't alone.

MaNiC MoMMy™ said...

So there obviously was something very funky going on with the men over the weekend, huh!?

Sally T said...

We never have bust ups quite that dramatic but on a lesser scale I could relate to what you said 100%. My husband 'P' wakes up early these days even on weekends and seems to think I am lazy because I get up at a normal hour. He doesn't exactly say as much but it is certainly implied. His dad wakes up at 3am every morning and I'm sure 'P' will end up that way too...I can't wait :-[ anyway, he also prefers to communicate via e-mail even when we are in adjacent rooms! (We both have our own studies/offices) He doesn't often get in a bad mood but if he does he sulks and I usually (but not always) know to pick my words carefully ;-) Anyway, luckily for me 'P' is a really placid guy and I love him to bits.
Like you, a quicky in the morning really set me up for the day but it's not often 'P' has stayed in bed long enough so I often have to drag him back!

kissmekate said...

Oh Manic I could have written that post myself!

Makeup SEX is the BEST! But for some reason my husband just doesn't get it and leaves me boiling in my skin instead of reaching out and giving me a hug, which only makes the situation worse because I don't get all those gooey feelings you made mention of.

Thanks for the giggle!

Anonymous said...

He better watch out for the flying monkeys

Sugarmama said...

I'm so jealous that it's over that quickly for you and your husband! When my own dear man have a fight like that we've got to simmer about it OVERNIGHT before we both wake up and pretend it never happened. I might like your way better...

Still have the make-up sex, though. Always nice.

Hello from Julia said...


Maybe something in the moon was up with the guys this weekend. I had it out big with my dad yesterday. (Not that I'm going to blog about it. That would fill up a screen. Gotta' keep it on the up and up!)

Life is too short for the exhaustion. I don't want my life to be a drama, I want it to be a sexy, action flick!

(My dad and I watched a make-up movie, though. And for the first time, we both agreed: it was terrible.)


Have a good week.

MaNiC MoMMy™ said...

Hey! I gotta clear something up... it was NOT makeup sex. We had already made up. It was just ESM Sex... Early Sunday Morning Sex! LOL!

Appletini said...

This post made me laugh and awwww at the same time:)

AN EMAIL! What is that all about?

Anonymous said...

God, this was so funny, I felt like your husband and my husband must be related. What is it about husbands? I can totally relate, and loved, loved, loved how you handled it and how you wrote about it. You are such a talented writer, really.

Angel said...

you've just explained marriage in this one post...ya, you fight and yell and scream...but in the end, everything is ok.

Liane Spicer said...

This was funny... I don't really miss marriage - had enough drama in 5 years to last a lifetime - but I have to admit the single life has its drawbacks. Ah, those Sunday mornings...