Someday we're gonna be saints...for putting up with each other
Let me start with saying I'm blissfully happy...like curl your toes, wrap up in a warm blanket and read a favorite book for the 9th time (what? am I the ONLY person who likes to reread books??)...happy. But...no one wants to hear about that...and I am to please. For your reading pleasure, I have a tale of both of us behaving badly.
We'll start with me and I'll tell you John's phone/behaving badly story another time.
I was feeling sick the other night...first I had the shakes and the chattering lips. Then, as soon as I crawled into bed I started to sweat uncontrollably (hot,no?). John sweetly climbs into the bed and spoons me, comforts me and was an all around good husband as I lost 3/4 of my body weight through my pores (wait...that would be a dream...I think I lost maybe an ounce). We go to sleep...well...John goes to sleep, I sleep fitfully, moan intermittantly and toss and turn constantly. All these things I would've done pre-marriage...I wasn't going for high drama, it's just I'm not totally used to people witnessing my dramatic/sick act.
Well...the sick act makes the dog restless. She can't sleep if I'm constantly moving around so she hops off the bed. Then every time I fall asleep, she comes over and sticks her wet nose on my arm or she burrows under my arm--lifts it, trying to move it so that she can crawl into the tiny space between me and what's left of the surface space of the mattress--she's 60 lbs and there was room for a 1lb rat--I believe that her ultimate goal was to heat me up further, as I was a few degress short of the Sun's core temp. Her actions made me groan/grumble/moan further...which would occassionally wake John from his sprawled slumber (it's amazing that when you're sick, you begrudge your husband every extra inch he takes up on the bed).
Like a bear coming out of hibernation, he barely waits for an explanation for my moaning/rolling bitchfest and when I finish my weak little (barely) sick story he says, "You gotta be fucking kidding me...". To which I get testy and say, "I am not fucking kidding you, why don't you just go back to sleep and I'll take care of myself?" My laser beam glare cut through the darkness as I rolled toward the wall and away from the man who was being "soo incredibly insensitive at 4:30 am..." (that's a joke)
The rolling and moaning continues until he wakes again and this time, feeling bad for me he says, "Do you want me to go get you some aspirin for the aches?" But his niceness was thwarted by my evil shriveled heart. "No, no...I wouldn't want you to do anything for me when I'm sick...I'll just go get some myself!" Cue stomping down the stairs, banging cabinets, slamming on the faucet and pounding the water glass onto the countertop (Did I ever tell you that I was a spoiled only child and that when I was sick, my parents treated me very, very well...yes, well...don't do that to your kids). Cue stomping back upstairs, flinging covers and getting back into bed. And then, a miracle-- I fell asleep for five minutes. To be awakened by a wet nose and nudging--every fifteen minutes before the alarm clock went off. At some point in all of this, John woke up again and offered his support and his willingness to take care of me. Again, Satan rose from within me and I said, "No thanks, I'll just call my mom after work and maybe she'll help me out." (First of all...what??? and second of all, what the hell would my mom be able to do about a minor flu??)
I'm happy to say that I apologized for my erratic behavior and mean rebuffs for his care...but this is when it gets hilarious. I apologized and then I started a diatribe on the dog. See, I was still annoyed about the constant 15 minute wake up call/her climbing on the bed and sitting on my chest act...so when she climbed up on the bed and laid down to get her belly rubbed and her foot accidently scratched my face I went ballistic...I turned onto the dog and said (to my favorite and most dearest creature aside from my husband), "And you Motherfucker, kept me awake all fucking night, get the hell away from me!!" (don't hate me, blame my lack of sleep/flu symptoms). She looked stricken and said to me with her eyes, "You promised to love, honor and obey me...why hast thou forsaken me?" So of course, I had to apologize to her, nuzzle her belly and rub her. But then she made a false move...she annoyed John. And John said, "You little motherfucker..." (and I don't remember the rest of his rant to her...but I did remember that we both called the poor canine a motherfucker in under 3 scant minutes)...this is where it gets funny (not the verbal abuse to the dog)...I turned on him for daring to yell at my dog! The very same dog that chooses to nail him in the balls at every opportunity she can get, the dog that bit deeply into his thumb and caused half of his life blood to spill out onto our deck amongst millions of other things that she does to him (and only him).
Most of the time, I'm a good wife...but I have to say that my husband is getting very good at dealing with my crabby/spoiled child ways. So all's well here at our happy home...we snipe at each other occasionally(even the dog gets her two barks in) but we apologize quickly, hug lots and swap DNA every opportunity that we can get
We'll start with me and I'll tell you John's phone/behaving badly story another time.
I was feeling sick the other night...first I had the shakes and the chattering lips. Then, as soon as I crawled into bed I started to sweat uncontrollably (hot,no?). John sweetly climbs into the bed and spoons me, comforts me and was an all around good husband as I lost 3/4 of my body weight through my pores (wait...that would be a dream...I think I lost maybe an ounce). We go to sleep...well...John goes to sleep, I sleep fitfully, moan intermittantly and toss and turn constantly. All these things I would've done pre-marriage...I wasn't going for high drama, it's just I'm not totally used to people witnessing my dramatic/sick act.
Well...the sick act makes the dog restless. She can't sleep if I'm constantly moving around so she hops off the bed. Then every time I fall asleep, she comes over and sticks her wet nose on my arm or she burrows under my arm--lifts it, trying to move it so that she can crawl into the tiny space between me and what's left of the surface space of the mattress--she's 60 lbs and there was room for a 1lb rat--I believe that her ultimate goal was to heat me up further, as I was a few degress short of the Sun's core temp. Her actions made me groan/grumble/moan further...which would occassionally wake John from his sprawled slumber (it's amazing that when you're sick, you begrudge your husband every extra inch he takes up on the bed).
Like a bear coming out of hibernation, he barely waits for an explanation for my moaning/rolling bitchfest and when I finish my weak little (barely) sick story he says, "You gotta be fucking kidding me...". To which I get testy and say, "I am not fucking kidding you, why don't you just go back to sleep and I'll take care of myself?" My laser beam glare cut through the darkness as I rolled toward the wall and away from the man who was being "soo incredibly insensitive at 4:30 am..." (that's a joke)
The rolling and moaning continues until he wakes again and this time, feeling bad for me he says, "Do you want me to go get you some aspirin for the aches?" But his niceness was thwarted by my evil shriveled heart. "No, no...I wouldn't want you to do anything for me when I'm sick...I'll just go get some myself!" Cue stomping down the stairs, banging cabinets, slamming on the faucet and pounding the water glass onto the countertop (Did I ever tell you that I was a spoiled only child and that when I was sick, my parents treated me very, very well...yes, well...don't do that to your kids). Cue stomping back upstairs, flinging covers and getting back into bed. And then, a miracle-- I fell asleep for five minutes. To be awakened by a wet nose and nudging--every fifteen minutes before the alarm clock went off. At some point in all of this, John woke up again and offered his support and his willingness to take care of me. Again, Satan rose from within me and I said, "No thanks, I'll just call my mom after work and maybe she'll help me out." (First of all...what??? and second of all, what the hell would my mom be able to do about a minor flu??)
I'm happy to say that I apologized for my erratic behavior and mean rebuffs for his care...but this is when it gets hilarious. I apologized and then I started a diatribe on the dog. See, I was still annoyed about the constant 15 minute wake up call/her climbing on the bed and sitting on my chest act...so when she climbed up on the bed and laid down to get her belly rubbed and her foot accidently scratched my face I went ballistic...I turned onto the dog and said (to my favorite and most dearest creature aside from my husband), "And you Motherfucker, kept me awake all fucking night, get the hell away from me!!" (don't hate me, blame my lack of sleep/flu symptoms). She looked stricken and said to me with her eyes, "You promised to love, honor and obey me...why hast thou forsaken me?" So of course, I had to apologize to her, nuzzle her belly and rub her. But then she made a false move...she annoyed John. And John said, "You little motherfucker..." (and I don't remember the rest of his rant to her...but I did remember that we both called the poor canine a motherfucker in under 3 scant minutes)...this is where it gets funny (not the verbal abuse to the dog)...I turned on him for daring to yell at my dog! The very same dog that chooses to nail him in the balls at every opportunity she can get, the dog that bit deeply into his thumb and caused half of his life blood to spill out onto our deck amongst millions of other things that she does to him (and only him).
Most of the time, I'm a good wife...but I have to say that my husband is getting very good at dealing with my crabby/spoiled child ways. So all's well here at our happy home...we snipe at each other occasionally(even the dog gets her two barks in) but we apologize quickly, hug lots and swap DNA every opportunity that we can get
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