Weekend Wrap-Up

The Good


Go Steelers! Monkey and Bun dressed in proper Sunday gear. The Pittsburgh Steelers are now 2-0. They actually looked kind of impressive in the second half of Sunday’s game against the Buffalo Bills. It may be a good year to be a Steeler fan!

Bun must pull up on everything and everyone. DearDR says she actually stood on her own Saturday afternoon. She’ll be walking by Monkey’s birthday. I can’t stand it…

The Bad
This is about an argument. And the argument is about sex. And if you don’t want to know about arguments or DearDR and my sex life, avert your eyes. Look at more pictures. Or read the funnyness below.

DearDR and I have a troublesome sex life. I’ve mentioned this before. We both like sex, and it is an important compenent of our marriage. Unfortunately it has taken a hit, and it took a big hit this weekend.

Because of our birth control method, known as Natural Family Planning or the Fertility Awareness Method, and because of our differing libidos (mine quite low as of the past year or so, and DearDR’s still very, very high), and our schedules, fitting in actual sexual intercourse is challenging. Additionally, DearDR needs to have sex or have an orgasm, the way I need to read some of a novel at night, or have a glass of wine. It’s how he wants to relax, sometimes the only way he can relax. And believe me, right now DearDR needs some relaxing.

Yesterday, he came over from next door, where he was studying for his licensure test, and tried to get it on with me. Not only am I having my period right now, but I had had a very difficult time getting the kids in for their naps (and Monkey wasn’t really napping, anyway). This on top of a difficult morning and my over-riding desire to sit still for at least one half hour and watch football. Plus, I was washing dishes when he came home.

I said a very unfortunate thing, along the lines of, “I am tired of our sex life being about you hitting me up for blow jobs.” (DearDR, like many men, I suspect, doesn’t really dig having sex “while the painters are in” as he so quaintly puts it.) This, quite understandably, made him quite angry. So he stormed back off next door to study more; and I regretted my outburst but was unable to apologize for it in the moment.

I got more and more depressed as the day wore on over my gaffe and the hurt it inflicted on DearDR, and the fact that it was going to lead to a bigger fight later when really I wanted nothing more than to cuddle up with my husband after the day, and, yeah, maybe help him out with his needs a little bit. But I was angry, too, because it seems like the burden of solving what is wrong with our sex life is on me, and I really don’t want anything else on me right now. That is probably an unfortunate turn of phrase in this context.

And Monkey wouldn’t be quiet in her room, and I couldn’t watch football, and it’s already been a crappy month, and I had had an… let’s call it an intense conversation — one during which my temper snapped and I cried quite a bit — with a friend earlier in the week. When he came home for dinner later, and I confirmed that he was indeed quite angry, I cried, and it took a lot of willpower not to just get in my car and drive away. I just want to run away from big, emotional, intense things lately. And stuff keeps happening along these lines, and I am really tired.

The Absolutely Hysterical

More hilarity from the Monkey occurred over the weekend.

On a walk near the covent down the road from our house, DearDR and Monkey stopped by a statue of Mary holding Jesus. DearDR said, “Who is that?” Monkey answered, “Mary.” (In Monkey-speak, sounds like, “Ma-wy.”) “And who is she holding?” “Baby Jesus.” Then Monkey looked up at DearDR and said, “Where’s Joe?”

Occasionally, DearDR says to Monkey, “Do you know what I want to tell you?” He usually says, “That I love you very much” or “You’re such a beautiful little girl.” Something along those lines. The day after the “Joe” crack, DearDR said to Monkey, “Do you know what I want to tell you?” And Monkey responded, “That you have my present right here?”