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The Backstory & then the Spider

Capulet

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To be or not to be…

 

No, wait…that isn’t right.  Let me get out of Shakespeare mode.

 

To blog or not to blog?

 

Better.  Moving along.

 

I guess you can say I’m not a newbie to blogging.  I had one a million years ago, when my life was one thousand percent different.  I was married to the biggest baby in the world, also known as my ex-husband, will refer him to just ‘M.’  Most of my blogs back then were about my life raising four children and tending to the needs of aforementioned big baby and posts were nothing short of chaotic.  Usually, I shared my daily experiences with the kids (I raised four children…two that I had with M and two that were a result of M’s first failed marriage.)  Besides his inability to keep a wife (third time’s the charm, right?) M was also completely clueless as to what the purpose of a BLOG was.  

 

If you ask me, you’re supposed to be honest with yourself more than you are to the folks who care enough to read about your insane everyday moments.  You’re supposed to share things, no matter how ridiculous they may seem to be…because at the end of the day, the feedback is what makes writing about it all worthwhile, right?  And you’re not supposed to be afraid of what other people may think of what uncensored thoughts spill onto the computer screen…because, really…who gives a shit?  They’re your thoughts.  Your life.  Your ponderings.  According to M, to share things of a personal nature with people outside of our home, our family, was the equivalent of putting it across the sky in neon letters.  

 

And so my previous blog was strictly about being a mother/stepmother to these psychotic kids and on occasion whenever I referred to M, I referred to him as my ‘darling hubby,’ (yes, you may gag) on the off chance he got interested in reading my blog after I’d gone to bed.  I personally think he was afraid that he would appear to be the problematic one in our relationship, so I had to make sure that his reputation as the outstanding family man was well protected.  I had to suppress and sugar-coat a lot, for fear that he’d disapprove.  

 

During my divorce nearly ten years ago, I’m sorry to report that I stopped blogging.  I didn’t only jump ship, I did a running dive and because of all these years of inactivity, my precious blog was purged.  Either that, or I just can’t seem to access it anymore.  I no longer have the password-recovery email, I don’t remember the login, I don’t even remember the URL to where it was.  I’ve googled the name of the blog in hopes of it popping up on search engines.  Nada.  

 

I suppose it doesn’t matter anymore.  In hindsight, while my previous blog did contain a lot of precious stories of the little angels I raised, (that’s where the ‘grain of salt’ comes in) a lot of it was written with the fear of M not liking or approving of what I had to say.  God forbid I talked too much about my son’s little psychotic episode when the seam on his socks didn’t line up properly with his toes, or that time M had a little hissy fit when a pack of his cigarettes went missing and he impersonated Adolf Hitler and made the kids search all over the house for them…only to find them in his car hours later.  Totally blog-worthy stuff, but I didn’t share that.  I can, now, though!  I’m free!

 

My life with M is over.  Our divorce was more emotional than our marriage had been.  He took his older two children, now aged 23 and 21.  We share custody of our 17 and 11 year old.  He’s now married to Wife #3 who brought a 14-year-old son with her from a previous marriage, and together, she and M have a 5-year-old.  While a part of me is angry that my one marriage didn’t work out, I can’t help but giggle whenever his new wife shows up to pick up the kids and instead of heading straight back out, will sit and vent about the aggravation M causes her.  Even my children have stories for me when it’s my time with them, and I can’t help but be relieved that he is no longer my problem.

 

Nope.

 

In fact, some of you know that I am in a relationship with a woman, now.  We are engaged to be married.  No date has been set, yet.

 

Say, what?

 

It was jokingly said that I’ve gone to the Dark Side.  I don’t know if that is because I can do a wicked imitation of Darth Vader when I breathe…it’s either severe allergies or simply the fact that I can’t hear myself breathe.   It could be that, or it’s an actual term used to refer to a female who no longer is attracted to men and goes to the other team.  But stick with me, there’s always a method to my madness and in time, all will be revealed. :) 

 

I’ll refer to my fiancee as ‘J.’  She’s just amazing.  Literally the light at the end of my tunnel.  We met shortly before I was officially divorced but after M and I had decided to split.  I wasn’t looking for a relationship, nor was she.  We had been talking for a few months before it hit me.  

 

For example…you know those Ambien commercials?  Where the too-attractive-for-TV lady sits up in bed, stretches her arms over her head, hair looking like she had just come out of the damn salon, big perfect smile on her face?  I mean, really?  Who the hell wakes up like that?  But, anyway, if I could bottle that phrase/feeling, that’s probably what it would look like.  It was a moment of clarity.  I knew we had something very special.  A connection far deeper than I’d ever shared with M or anyone else.  It felt right, it felt like the TRUTH, in a world where I was so accustomed to lying to myself and putting on a front to hide the unhappiness and loneliness that I'd felt being with M.

 

Fights with M were almost ALWAYS won by M.  I could go on and on about how much of a pain in the ass he is/was.  But before I say too much more about my ex-husband, I just want to put out there that 1) NO, he never laid a hand on me in violence.  I will give him that much.  He shoved me once, and once only, and that was because in a heated moment during one of our fights, I slapped him in the face.  Don’t ask what came over me.  I can’t even say for sure.  LOL.  And, 2) He was not a good husband to me but he is a very good and very involved father to our children.  Yes, he is harsh and oftentimes the kids express how much they disagree with his perspective on things, but he provides.  They are never without.  Unfortunately, I can’t deny him that, either.   

 

Mostly because of reason #2, I will always love and respect him on some level, even if it’s the smallest level possible.  We get along MUCH better now that I don’t have to share a bed or a household with him.  He’s almost tolerable to be around and I do feel that it’s in our children’s best interest that he and I remain a unified front and co-parent despite the differences we have had in the past.  So, I’ll try not to complain too much about him in this blog - no promises, though. 

 

My fights with J…well, here’s the gist of it.  She’ll ask me what I want for dinner.  I’ll ask her what SHE wants.

 

“I asked YOU first.”

 

“I’m not the picky one.” (That would be me.  I will eat absolutely anything that isn’t disgusting or slimy.  She’s got some issues with food textures and such so only likes certain things.)

 

So…after about ten minutes of that back and forth, we’ll decide that neither one of us wants to cook.  Fast forward to twenty minutes later.  We’re both in the car.  Still no location in mind.

 

“Okay, so where are we going?”  (J)

 

“Where do you want to go?”  (I never said I wasn’t a pain in the ass.  If you ask her, she’ll completely attest to that.)

 

We’ll sit there for the next half hour batting names of local eateries back and forth.  Sometimes it ends with J pulling over and stopping the car before we end up crossing state lines without having decided on dinner.

 

“Listen here, Capulet…” (of course, she doesn’t call me Capulet, but was I effective in describing how annoyed she is at this point?)

 

“All right, all right.  Let’s go to Wendy’s,” I’ll say.

 

Yes, really.  After all that, we end up at Wendy’s.  This is, believe it or not, a common argument that we have at least four to five times a week at dinnertime.  And while we’re stuffing our faces with oversalted french fries and nuggets that are only perfect half the time, we’ll laugh at ourselves and just how silly we are on a regular basis.  

 

And that’s okay.  

 

I think it’s healthy to be able to laugh at your soulmate, your better half, the love of your life.  This is the one you’re going to be safe saying exactly what you feel, the one you’re not afraid the truth will offend, the one who will laugh with you.  It’s all done out of love, a love that I never knew I was capable of until I met this woman.  I mean, sure, there are times I roll my eyes.  Like earlier tonight when we were watching The Walking Dead.  I had just gotten cozy in my recliner with my blanket draped over myself, dessert in hand, when she noticed a spider crawling on the ceiling.

 

“Kill it.”  (J)

 

“Why don’t you kill it?  You’re taller.”  (me)

 

She leaves the living room for a moment.  Comes back with the broom and a lone sneaker.  Stands over by the recliner looking all cute and holds out the broom and sneaker.  Says nothing.  Just the 'here ya go' look on her face.  Yeah, she was serious.

 

“How do you expect me to get that damn spider?  It’s on the ceiling.”  I didn’t really want to get up.  I was comfortable, damn it.  In response to this, she jiggles the hand with the broom.  There’s a pause.  Then the hand with the sneaker jiggles.  I sigh and get up.  “All right, fine.  Give it here.”

 

I whap the spider on the ceiling.  It falls to the floor, legs up and curled.  I smoosh it with the broom.  Mission accomplished.  Didn’t even need the sneaker.  J is pleased that there is no longer an eight-legged guest in our living room.  Go, me!!

 

Gosh, I love this woman.  With all of my heart.  She changed me.  She made me a better person.  She taught me what relationships were SUPPOSED to be about and I am a lucky, lucky woman.  I owe her my sanity.  And I thank her every single day, even if not verbally, for putting up with me when I slack off on the housework, or I forget to transfer the clothes from the washer to the dryer, or I eat too much Mexican food and my ass isn't pleasant to be around.  Either way, this one is a keeper!

 

Here’s another important tidbit I wanted to add before I close out this blog entry.  Back when I had my old blog, she was a follower/reader.  So if you’ve enjoyed this entry, you may thank my fiancee, J, for encouraging me to start a new one. :)  I'll always be honest here, I'll not be afraid to share my challenging times as well as the good/funny/sad, etc.  I'll always tell the truth, no matter what.  I'll always be sweet and respectful (and here comes the chocolate!) to everyone, unless of course, I'm mad at you.  Either way...welcome to my blog, I hope you'll stick around and enjoy the randomness that is my mind.  Comments are welcome.  In exchange for the laughs I'm sure to provide on many occasions, I accept payment in Dunkin Donuts gift cards.  

 

(Yes, I'm kidding about that last part.  Everything else, though, I'm quite serious about.)  

 

- Capulet

 


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