Valentine Schmalentines

I apologize for not posting every day like I promised. I haven't been in a very good place lately. I don't know if it's winter depression, or maybe some leftover, residual post partum depression or what, but I've been down and out and just blah about everything. The motivation has been sucked out of me like a vacuum and all I really want to do is pull the covers over my head and sleep (which can't and wont happen because I have a hyperactive ten month old who is now taking steps on his own).

So, it wasn't really any big surprise that I would be blah about this year's Valentines Day as well.  Not that I was ever really all that excited over it. I'll admit, I'm not very romantic. In fact I'm pretty dude-like in many aspects. If you absolutely must have an example, I just finished clipping my toenails on the couch and then I stuffed my face with nachos (after going on a taco binge earlier today). The sexiness is just radiating out of me today so ladies hide yo men!

Don't get me wrong, I'm very happy for those of you who have cheesy, romantic, flower filled, gushy Hallmark card holidays. Everyone should feel loved and appreciated, and just because I'm having a woe is me, poopy flavored lollipop of a year, doesn't mean that everyone should suffer (although I hope you all choke on your chocolates....KIDDING.....I choked on a Mexican pizza many years ago at Los Dos Amigos and it was pretty damn terrifying). 

My husband isn't much better. If it were up to him holidays wouldn't even exist at all.  Yes, it's true, he was super duper romantic on our first Valentine's Day, but let's just say that over the years it's just sort of become another day for us on the calendar.  Last night we had to run to Safeway so while we were out we grabbed a box of chocolates that were on clearance and then upgraded our coffee purchases to include travel mugs (they were offering them for half off).

Happy Valentine's Day honey, here's some discounted chocolates and a plastic coffee cup

I may sound bitter, but I swear, I'm really not at all. I'm terrible with flowers. TERRIBLE! I'm like the Black Dahlia of the gardening world where all living plants come to die a slow, torturous death (luckily I'm better with children, right?) And I don't wear jewelry, other than my wedding ring and my plain silver hoop earrings that I bought at Target for five bucks many (many) years ago. Romantic trips are out too because, well, do I even need to say it? We have four young kids still living at home.  

There is one teeny tiny little thing that I wish my husband would do that doesn't even cost any money, and I've hinted at it so many times that I've honestly just given up at this point. And that's okay. I know there are several things on his list that I've neglected, despite him nagging at me, so we're even, and that my friends is marriage. It's a compromise, and there are lots of good days and bad days, and many in between, just okay days. He shows his love in many other ways, as he's an amazing father and provider (hello, the poor man works his tail off so his wife can stay home with their 10,000 kids) and he does lots of little things for me that I probably take for granted and don't even recognize half the time. For example, sometimes he'll pick up little items for me on his lunch break, like a new pair of shoes, a pair of pj's, a dessert he knows I like, etc. He grabs our favorite vegan chicken strips at Trader Joes which we consume late at night after the kids are in bed, sometimes even with wine! Bonus! 

I don't need a dozen roses or a fancy box of chocolates to know that he loves me and is committed to our family. In fact, tonight we're actually celebrating V-Day as a family, which we've also done in previous years, and those are always my favorite Valentine memories to be perfectly honest. The kids will only be with us for so many years and once they're gone we'll have many years of intimate dinners and weekend getaways.  So for now it's quick trips to Safeway for discounted chocolates and plastic coffee cups. But hey, for dinner we're having cheese fondue (I make the best cheese fondue by the way), along with some chocolate fondue for dessert.

I hope that all of you have a wonderful, amazing, love filled Valentine's Day.  And if you're not having a wonderful, magical V-Day, let me leave you with this little fun filled image.....once I finish posting this, I will be heading back to my bathroom to continue scraping the stuck on, sticky icky Amoxicillin which spilled out all over my drawer, ruining what little make up I owned (it's a sign that I should never wear make up), with a butter knife. 

You're welcome.

The Post It Note Anniversary

My husband and I recently celebrated our tenth wedding anniversary. We've been a couple much longer than ten years, but we dated for a while before my dear sweet hubby finally popped the question (yes, he was one of those "I'm never getting married" types when I met him). Over the years we've had some good anniversaries and some not so good ones. Then there are the completely forgotten ones, and yes, i'm also guilty of forgetting a couple of our anniversaries (men, you aren't the only ones who forget, or maybe you are and i'm just a really crappy wife).

According to tradition different anniversary years have themes.  The first year is the paper anniversary, second is cotton, third is leather, etc. These themes supposedly help you determine which type of gift to buy your spouse.  For those of you approaching your tenth anniversary, i've made it very easy for you to find the perfect gift because I decided the tenth anniversary should be called the Post It Note anniversary because if your husband is anything like mine, he doesn't remember a damn thing you told him. Ever. Unless it has to do with sex because then he totally remembers, but anything else, you might as well be talking to the dog.

Here's a classic example:
I had an ultrasound scheduled for 8 am on Monday morning to check on baby's growth, my fluid levels, and basically to see if he's ready to be born because my OB was thinking of inducing me this week due to some recent complications.  I've known since last Thursday that I needed this ultrasound. I probably told my dear sweet hubby no less than 50 times about this upcoming appointment. We've talked about it, i've explained my doctor's reasoning for it, and i've explained that he will need to take our daughter to school because I wont be back in time to drive her.  I made sure there was NO possible way he could forget about this ultrasound appointment.

Last night I informed my daughter that her dad would be driving her to school in the morning. Her reaction was, "Huh? Why?" but apparently she wasn't the only confused person in the room.  My dear sweet hubby turns his head and gives me that look. Those of you who have been with someone for more than five years probably know this look well. It's kind of a cross between utter confusion and the stink eye, mixed with the squinchy face, and add a little bit of constipation on the side. I gave him a chance to redeem himself, took a deep breath and said, "Babe, you know why. I wont be here. REMEMBER I have an 8 am ultrasound in the morning?" to which he replies, "Um no, you haven't said anything about that at all"

This is where I had to excuse myself from the room because spousal homicide is highly frowned upon.

I started to wonder if maybe it wasn't my husband's fault and perhaps he truly had a hearing problem and needed some medical attention, but then I remembered that the man can watch soccer, football and UFC weigh ins and remember every last detail for weeks so I don't think dragging him to a hearing loss specialist would be very useful. Besides who wants to pay hundreds of dollars for a doctor to tell me what I already know...."Ma'am, your husband's hearing is perfectly fine. He just apparently suffers from selective hearing loss whenever you speak."

 So ladies, save the expensive golf clubs for another year, forget about the stupid chocolates or smelly flowers (because seriously what man really wants flowers) go to Costco and buy an industrial sized box of Post It Notes. Write important shit down and slap it on his forehead (you can decide on the level of gentleness you place them on his head) so he cannot "forget".  Because if your husband is anything like mine, the next time you tell him about an appointment, a meeting, a birthday party, a sporting event, basically anything that doesn't involve him getting sex, he will look at you and say, "Wait, what? No, you never told me that."
 

Slutty Goats

Clipart provided by Clker.com

My husband and I both suffer from insomnia. This typically leads to him pestering me about sex, and me lying on the couch like a vegetable whining about being tired.

We have some very interesting conversations late at night.  A few nights ago we started talking about Bengay, which somehow lead to the topic of men putting Bengay on their balls.  I just had to Google it to believe it. I Google everything and I do mean everything.

I especially love Yahoo questions and answers though. This is what I found when I Googled, "Do men really put Bengay on their balls" (They do by the way)

Question: 
"When I put bengay on my balls, it hurts. Is that normal?"

Best Answer (by arkleseizure):
"Normal that you're putting it on (no) or normal that it hurts (I don't think normal has been established, as people don't generally do this)"

Other Awesome Answers: 
"Burning, yes....putting it on, no"

"Try putting some of your rectum. It might help you forget you have it on your balls"

"Why would you put Bengay on your balls to begin with? Usually it's used for sore muscles and clearly your balls are not a muscle".

As if the conversation couldn't possibly get more intense, we started watching Animal Planet.  Slutty goats is what happens when the husband and I try to watch an evening of educational programming together.  I'm not even sure they were actual goats but they had horns and were ramming each other and the husband said, "Wow, talk about some slutty goats.  Look at that one.  She doesn't use the old 'I have a headache excuse'.  She's ready to get some."

I have some issues with this.  For one, I highly doubt that female goat has five children to take care, a mounting pile of medical bills, and an autoimmune disorder that affects her sex drive.  However, I could be totally wrong and if I am, i'm deeply sorry. I'm sure goats have their own set of problems.  And yes, I just Googled, "Common goat problems" in case you're wondering.  It turns out goats don't have it all that great either.  They often have twins.  Egads! No wonder they suffer from chronic urinary problems.

I feel your pain goat, I do.  If you weren't a goat, and didn't smell so horrifically funky, and I could get it in writing that you wouldn't take a dump on my couch, I would so have you over for some coffee, scones and girl talk.

Weekends with Peanut Layne

Well, it's official.  I'm the worst blogger in history. Yep, I am.  I'm lucky if I blog once a week at this point (on a good month).  Not to mention it takes me forever to moderate my comments so please don't feel bad if it takes me a month or longer to approve your comment.  It's not you, it's me.  ALL ME.  It's called laziness and it's contagious in our house.  I'm behind on writing blogs, reading blogs and commenting on blogs (geesh, do you think i've said the word "blog" enough?) so that's my goal for this week (to actually get blogging stuff done), along with losing 50 lbs. That's not too much to ask is it?

So, what has been going on in the Peanut Layne house you may be asking? Or maybe you're not asking at all, but who cares, because i'm gonna tell you anyways!  This weekend has been super exciting. Ok, so no, it hasn't.  Last night (Friday night), the husband and I put the kids to bed and partied, and by partied I mean we sat on the couch (separate couches because I need room to stretch out my legs, and the hubby hates the smell of my Bengay lotion) and watched a National Lampoons marathon on VH1.  The husband made a Dutch Bros coffee run which was super sweet but I knew exactly what that meant...he was going to expect sex for his good deed.  Yep, I saw right through his random act of kindness.

Before the sex the husband started complaining about not having any junk food in the house.  He had this brilliant idea to take some tortillas (I think they've been in the fridge since season 3 of Weeds...you know before the series turned to shit) and spread butter, cinnamon and sugar all over them.  He insisted I help him eat them, and since i'm not one to turn down sugar, I agreed.

Within about 10 minutes of eating the sugary tortillas of death, my stomach was gurgling and angry with me.  Just what you want when you're about to have sex.  I didn't have the heart to tell my husband that the entire time we were having sex, I was concentrating on bowel control.

Today the party continued as I had to run to Winco to buy groceries.  As I was walking out of Winco, I dropped our pizza face down on the parking lot ground.  Gross.  I got home and handed it over to the hubby and told him to check it for hypodermic needles before tossing it into the oven.

Speaking of the hubby he ditched me tonight so he could go a local pizza place/bar and watch a UFC fight with his buddies. Our 8 y/o daughter asked me as he was leaving, "He's not going to one of those root beer places is he? Cause those are really bad."  After I finished laughing I figured I would take this time to catch up on chick flicks but come to find out the husband set a bunch of parental controls. DAMN HIM!  Of course I hit the wrong button while cursing over the parental controls and it landed on Spongebob so my dreams of watching TV tonight have been shattered.

I wish I had more funny stuff but I got nothin.  My 5 y/o son said the strawberries I bought looked like butt cheeks.  The sad thing is, they kinda do.

I love my husband but...

the man needs to go back to work!  J had some extra time off saved up and it was one of those use it or lose it situations so he has been off work since Dec. 19th.  I'm not kidding.  I have come to realize that if my hubby worked from home, we would most likely be divorced.

I long for my typical routine which is where the oldest three kids are at school, my hubby is at work, and it's just me and my baby boys home with me (well okay they aren't babies, they are three and five). I drank lots of coffee, watched lots of girly TV, and spent lots of time on my computer blogging and Twittering.

You may have noticed I haven't been around much.  Or maybe you haven't.  Or maybe you're enjoying the break and are like, "Dang, she's back already?"  Anyways, I blame my hubby for my lack of blogging because all of my bloggy motivation has been sucked out of my brain and I feel like i'm losing brain cells every single minute that he's home.  Seriously, the man has football or UFC blaring at all times.  Not to mention that I missed the opportunity to watch all of my favorite cheesy Christmas movies prior to Christmas because the hubby would walk into the living room, roll his eyes, and say, "Really babe? A Very Brady Christmas?" and then eventually Sports Center somehow ended up making it's way on the TV the very second I got up to pee.  I tried to hold my bladder, I really did, but eventually I had to go and the man was just waiting until I left the room and then BAM! It's a male take over.  I realize men don't typically like cheesy Christmas movies, but if I have to watch one more MMA fight, I might actually put my hubby in a guillotine (if you don't know what that means, consider yourself lucky).

Oh but don't get me wrong, we had some fun times too.  The other day he got a brilliant idea to clean out the garage. Hmmm, let's see, it was a Friday afternoon and cold as balls outside. Standing in the ice box I like to call the garage with frozen snot stuck to my face while J griped and moaned about how we have way too much kid crap was a perfect way to spend my Friday! I mean if I didn't have my dear hubby home to keep me busy, i'd probably be doing something dreadful like watching Roseanne re-runs or wasting time on Twitter.  Thank goodness he's home to keep me occupied!

Finally he has been great at keeping me on my gluten free/dairy free diet.  I especially love his phone calls while he's out:

J: Hey i'm at McDonald's.  Did you want a hot fudge sundae?

Me: Um, babe. I can't eat dairy.

J: So, that's a no then?

Me: That's a no.

J: Okay, well i'll just grab one for me and the kids then.  You sure you don't want me to grab you something?

Me: No, there's nothing I can eat there.

J: There's nothing you can eat here? (As if he's surprised that McDonald's isn't healthy and doesn't have a complete GFCF menu).

Me: NO, there's NOTHING I can eat at McDonald's.

J: Okay, well then i'll be home with food for me and the kids.

Me: Great (followed by pouting and extreme irritation) as I go into the kitchen and eat rice crackers (which taste like hockey pucks) dipped in hummus.

The hubby actually goes back to work tomorrow and i'm sure i'll miss him when he's gone.  That's the part that makes our marriage work though.  I think it's healthy to have some time away from your spouse.  I want to miss him.  I need to miss him.  It's not normal to be together every day for weeks on end with no time apart.  Not normal at all.  Someday when we're old and retired and the kids are gone, maybe things will be different and i'll appreciate the endless days of us just being together for hours on end without a break (or not and we'll be that old couple that none of the nursing assistants want to work with because we're so crabby and difficult).  Until then I will bite my tongue, try to appreciate the last few hours of having my hubby home, and try to drown out the sounds of the Rose Bowl blaring in my living room.

A candy bar has many meanings

My husband made me promise i'd blog about this today and since I do make fun of him every single chance I get, I kind of owe him one. So this one's for you my hunk of burning love!

Yesterday I went grocery shopping. What a shocker that a mom of five spends three quarters of her adult life going to the grocery store. I'm on a first name basis with most of the employees. Pitiful really, but with two teens we go through food like toilet paper and considering we really were out of toilet paper (and napkins as that's our back up), I had no choice but to go shopping.  My hubby and I have this thing where we always buy each other a candy bar when we're at the store. It's kind of a way to say, "I love you" but also, "I really just want a candy bar for myself, so i'm buying one for you too so I don't have to listen to you bitch while I eat my candy bar in front of you."

Last night was pouring down rain and icky and my girls had soccer practice in the torrential downpour which meant that they came home smelling like wet dogs and asshole. I was so busy giving them baths and fixing dinner at midnight (kidding, it was more like 7), that I totally forgot about my hubby's candy bar that was stuffed down in my purse until the kids were passed out asleep. I walked into the bathroom and handed my hubby his candy bar (yes, while he was on the toilet) Is that wrong? We've been together for so long now that we are totally comfortable enough to hang out with each other while in the bathroom.  I know marriage experts tell you to NEVER EVER do this, but with five kids, this is one of our only options for quality alone time, so we're making it count, dammit! I also believe this is a sign of true love, or perhaps it's just completely repulsive and sick, but either way, it's really not a big deal to us.

This is the conversation that took place after I handed over the candy bar:

J- Oooh, I think someone wants to get some tonight.

Me- NO! (oooops, did I really just say that out loud?)

J- (hysterical laughter) OH I see. So this is the "I don't want to get any tonight so here's a candy bar instead?"

Me- Well, no. Actually it was a "I really just wanted some Junior Mints, and was trying to justify my purchase, but we can go along with your theory."

J- You really should blog about this.

Me- Why would you want me to blog about turning you down for sex? Doesn't that go against every code in the man handbook? You never admit when your wife turns you down?

J- Yeah, but it's pretty damn funny that you tried to buy me off with candy.

Later that evening I was curled up on the couch, wrapped up like a burrito in a warm, fleecy blanket of wonderfulness, when my persistent hubby decides to climb on top of me and dry hump my blanket covered behind.  Do all men do this or am I just the lucky chosen one who gets dry humped on a daily basis? Anyways, I immediately shout out, "Babe, get off! I'm gassy", which was totally true as I really was gassy after dining on spicy turkey dogs and barbeque chips just a couple of hours prior.  J slid off of me onto the floor laughing. "I know, I know" J said. "Let me guess? You are gassy, bloated, constipated, your cooch is most likely bleeding and smells weird, your fibromyalgia is acting up, your legs hurt and are way too hairy because you haven't had time to shave them, and your vagina looks like something straight out of the Jungle Book.  Did I miss anything? Oh and you have a headache. I almost forgot that one."