Husband Clothes

I’ve been feeling like a big cowardly chicken lately (not sure why, and it’s annoying me a lot). So, I’m kind of happy that today, I did something BRAVE.

I was late and in a TOTAL hurry to get to church this morning with the kids. So we were in this MAD RUSH to get out the door. Suddenly at 10:30am (when we should arrive at church), I realize I have nothing to wear. Only pre-baby stuff that’s like 10 years old. But it still looks nice–I wear only classic styles, so I’m never in style but also never out of style. It’s kind of slick if you think about it.

In a wild fury, I throw open my closet door and think “Do I have ANYTHING black?” (Detail for male readers: Black hides flaws in figures.) Yes, I certainly did, and I grabbed that little number–a skirt and a form-fitting shirt. And it wasn’t wrinkled, even after about 1.5 years of hanging in my closet without being touched. Yipee. I slapped it on and thought “Man, I really should check this out and make sure it looks okay.” Especially since the shirt is form fitting. I mean, I did just have a baby 6 weeks ago. My third one, so body=snaps back into shape less quickly. But I couldn’t check out how it looked, and therefore, I didn’t. I just slapped it on and ran out the door.

Why couldn’t I check out how I looked? Our full length mirror is in my husband’s closet–on the back of one of the doors. And one week ago, I placed two laundry baskets full of clean, but unfolded, clothes in front of those doors, and they are still there, as are all of the clothes in them. Plus, the baby swing is wedged against the laundry baskets–taking a “quick” look at myself would require getting past the baby swing and laundry baskets–I’d pretty much need a bulldozer. Please note in addition that I haven’t looked in the mirror since way, way long before I had the baby. Why would I? But hey, I’ve been exercising a lot, watching the fat and sugar, so hopefully I look okay. Still, I would generally never take it for granted that I look okay in form fitting stuff without visual confirmation. (Do others??? Oh, I mean, I know men do no matter what their size or shape. But do women?)

In a last ditch effort to get quick confirmation that I looked okay, I ran into the kids’ room where my husband was feeding the baby a bottle (which I prepared, of course). He was lying down with his back to the door. I said, “Honey, does this outfit look okay?” He sort of tried to turn his head but could barely see me and said, “I think so. I can’t really see you though.” (Seeing me would have required getting up and turning around.) Goodness, don’t over exert yourself, Honey.

Is it me, or was it EXCEEDINGLY brave of me to dawn a 10 year old (yet still looks new) outfit that’s snug, only 6 weeks after having a baby, and wear this in public without even CHECKING that it looks OK? I have to be honest, I kind of feel like a female superhero right now. 

Hi, I realize I keep posting about hot men. Well, despite how this post might sound, I love my husband and would never, ever, ever cheat. Really. I’m just NOT cheater material. Not only am I not interesting in having an extramarital affair, but even if I was, I’d have NO time for one. I’m way too busy taking care of the fam, blogging, and cruising the Internet.

HOWEVER. There was a Hot Dad sighting today. (This is the Hot Dad who looks identical to my husband, and who I can tell totally thinks I’m pretty, but we never have spoken to each other, and we never will. Cause I don’t think that would be a good idea.)

So we passed each other as I was going to pick up my son from school. And usually I would have looked away immediately. (Otherwise I blush or flinch and do other embarrassing things like that.) But, I was out of it. Probably thinking about what to fix for dinner–see how my life goes from almost-exciting to ultra boring in the wink of an eye? Poor me. hahahha. Just joking. Some may say boring (about my life), I saw AWESOME.

Oh anyway, basically, because I was really out of it, I accidentally stared into Hot Dad’s eyes for like 2 minutes without realizing it was him or that I was staring at him. How embarrassing. The really awkward part is that when I became aware of staring at him, he was staring BACK at me. It’s kind of like we had a staring contest, except that unlike real staring contests, this one was quite enjoyable. I felt I should smile to be polite before looking in another direction, but decided not to. Can’t do it. Too much chemistry. Smiling might lead to flirtation. Forget that. Too hot to handle. No need to get burned. If that’s not foresight, I don’t know what is.

PS. FUNNY aside: My husband just came up to me to ask me if I’m ready for dinner (yeah, I suppose so, as I am the one who cooked it and have been waiting for ages him to get ready to EAT)…He was facing my computer screen as I was typing like mad, and in HUGE letters is written the title “HOT DAD SIGHTING“. Does my husband notice? Absolutely not. Did I get nervous that he might notice? Absolutely not. What does that say about our marriage? You tell me.

What a joyful morning. I had a dream about Luke Wilson last night. In case you don’t know him, he is a great actor! And very, very laugh-aloud funny. And, as you can see from the above photo, he’s TOTALLY good-looking. Don’t confuse him with his slighly more famous older brother Owen, who may even be funnier than Luke and who’s also really cute (hence, his reputation as a big-time ladies’ man, despite his really odd nose.) Also, despite hype about Luke Wilson getting “fat,” I say FAT SHMAT.  He’s still darn good-looking, and he always will be! he he.

Scary and sad aside: For a brief period of time, I sort of considered naming my newborn son Luke Wilson [insert my last name]. Or at least Luke. My husband would never ever agree with this if he knew that Luke Wilson is a movie star. However, because he has NO IDEA who Luke Wilson or any other famous person is, I went ahead and asked…However, the word “luke” means “onion” in Russian language. This didn’t bother me at ALL. But it did bother my husband, as he spoke Russian sometimes growing up. I was like, “Oh COME ON, the name Onion Wilson [insert our last name] is perfectly acceptable.” Amusing, no?

It was so nice to dream about someone I LIKE after having so many dreams about famous people like Vladimir Putin wanting to date me (read here, very bizarre) or Robin Williams trying to set me up with Josh Hartnett (read here, barely even know who Josh Harnett is).

Too bad the dream was SO DUMB. Luke was not in any way interested in me or asking me out. In fact, his friend was kind of mean to me. Plus, for some reason, the dream involved a 90 year old Hungarian lady who I’m pretty sure was Luke’s grandmother (in the dream only…in real life, I think his parents are Irish)…

Let me warn you that this is boring and dumb, but basically, here’s the dream: Me, Luke, Luke’s friend, and Luke’s Hungarian grandmother were sitting in the grandmother’s apartment. It was old and rundown. We were talking about how to solve some problem–I think she wanted to move out of that apartment. So, the friend looks up and says to the group “Do you want to see how bad it is?” Then he looks at me and says, “Go over there and lift up that piece of posterboard.”

Right before I lifted up the posterboard, Luke’s friend says, “Wait till you see all the bugs under this thing.” Um, bugs? I don’t lift things up when there are BUGS under it. Needless to say, that posterboard stayed extremely intact. But I had to ask myself, “Why do I always get the crap jobs no one else wants to do? Why didn’t he ask LUKE to do it?” Whatever, I’ m used to it. Ha ha.

Anyway, then the dream fizzled out because slowly the sound of my beautiful baby crying became louder and louder in my ears. The one I wanted to name Onion. And I got up. That’s it. That’s my big dream about Luke Wilson. Give me a break. By the way, does everyone have dreams about famous guys (or girls) asking them out? If no, I guess this is yet one more sign that I have low self-esteem or am starved for attention or something like this. Will make a note to check that out closely. As soon as I have time. And money for therapy.

WOW. For the first time ever, my husband just picked up our 2nd grader from school. Oh, he was ALL confused about where to go. I said, for example, “The gate in front. Go to the gate in front.”

My husband gets to the school and immediately calls me and says, “You didn’t tell me there were TWO gates.” Uh, correct, I didn’t tell him that. That’s because there aren’t two gates. There is one very long gate with two doors.

I said, “HONEY, wait at the left door where YOU SEE THE HUGE GROUP OF PARENTS WAITING.”

He’s driving me crazy. He’s home 24/7 because he’s doing a project from home. Someone save me.

I had the most interesting flashback this morning while taking my morning walk. I stopped off to get a free city paper, and while still walking, I opened it up to see if there’s a nice, juicy classifieds section. (I’m not looking for anything–I just love classifieds.)

Flashback to the year 1997. I was sitting at my Dad’s  kitchen table, reading coffee, reading the classified section. Background: I had moved in with my Dad about 2 months prior to this, upon returning from a 3-year stay in Moscow, Russia. (One day I should post about that. Wild times. Anyway, my Dad wanted me to get a good job in the US–rather than going to another country to live, which I almost did, long story–so he let me stay there for free. And my Stepmom did too. So kind.)

Anyway, I’d never lived in the area where my Dad lives. So things felt lonely. The only people I could potentially do things with were coworkers (nearly all of my coworkers were guys) who asked me to go to lunch or happy hour, or acquaintances from college who lived in town. There was no way I was going to go to happy hour with male coworkers. I did that in Moscow and caused HUGE issues. I later learned that to many Russian males, happy hour, dinner, or even lunch qualifies as a DATE. So apparently, I DATED about 5 coworkers simultaneously. SO SORRY I didn’t realize that.

Anyway, due to loneliness when back in the US, I loved looking through the classified section of the Saturday newspaper. It listed all of the activities going on in town over the weekend–cultural activities (my favorite), hobby-related things, live bands and where they were scheduled to play, and so on. Of course, I never went to any–no one to go with.

Well, one morning I saw an ad about a “Russian festival.” Basically it was a Russian cultural event–a little gathering where people could buy Russian food, Russian books, Russian CD’s, and so on. I really wanted to go–but no one to go with…Then, out of the blue, one of my acquaintances called me and invited me to go with her to that very Russian festival. That worked out nicely.

At this point, you may be thinking that I am really pathetic to have flashbacks about classified ads. But wait–there’s more to this ad than meets the eye!!!

So this girl and I go to the event. We sat at a random table to eat lunch. There was this somewhat psycho guy talking to us. He was asking me where I went to church, and then, kept insisting that I should attend church regularly–that was kind of alarming. Also awkward was the fact that I sat right beside a cute guy. I kept feeling like he might think I sat there in order to meet him, but really it was because there were no other seats.

I kept wondering if the cute guy noticed that the psycho guy was lecturing me about church. And, if so, what kind of impression this made on him. I later learned all kinds of things about both the psycho guy and the cute guy. Guess why. That’s because the cute guy ended up being my husband. And after that festival, times were no longer lonely. (But hard in many other ways, and wonderful in many ways.)

PS. My husband isn’t Russian. I wish I could tell you what country he’s from, but it’s so small that if ONE person from there saw this blog, everyone in the entire country would immediately learn about it through the grapevine, including my mother-in-law. It would not behoove my marriage for her to see my stories about her–though they are all her own wicked fault.

Remember that wonderful song “Killing Me Softly” (not the original, rather the AWESOME remake of it by the Fugees in the late 90’s)? That’s one of the songs I sing aloud sometimes when I am taking my daily walks. It’s very embarrassing when people unexpectedly walk up behind me because I sing this song LOUDLY. It can’t be helped–the song is too soulful to sing quietly.

I thought of this song because lately, I am constantly repeating the words “He’s KILLING me” to myself. I think we all know exactly who I mean when I say that.

Last night, he actually DID almost kill me. He barbecued again. And let me tell you–he is trying hard to convince me that he only used “lighter fluid” and “not too much” of it at that. But that substance could not possibly be lighter fluid.

I was innocently using my computer in my room–it is very far from the backyard, which begs the question “How could a substance possibly travel so far ‘by accident’ if you get my drift…And suddenly my lungs felt like they were coated with something radioactive or VERY abrasive…like acid. Then I started coughing and couldn’t stop. I thought I was going to have to call 911!!! Today my throat STILL feels like it’s coated in acid.

I sincerely hope no one within a mile radius of our apartment has asthma or any kind of allergies to any chemicals. Because if they do, they could have been harmed. I’m surprised no one called the fire department. I would have thought this was a dirty bomb if I didn’t know it was coming from a grill in my backyard. I am SO embarrassed. But again, this could just all be a big cover up. A cover up to kill me. And it’s working.

Other ways he’s killing me but not softly:

1. He accepted an offer for an upcoming project that is 3 hours away. AGAIN. But guess what. This time it will last for much longer than last time. YAY. No need for him to come back. I’ll be dead, and the children will be living with my sister. Because I can handle a lot, but a newborn, a toddler, a 2nd grader, and a job (but no husband)–that’s gettin’ sketchy folks.
2. He has no project right now–5 weeks till the 3-hour away one. BUT he’s being ALL picky about what salary he needs to take a project now. Doesn’t that sound FUN? I’m like, “Hi. Is the offer you just got more than ZERO dollars? Because ZERO is what you’re getting paid right now.” I realize that was mean. But accurate nevertheless.
3. He’s staying up till about 3:30am every night (or perhaps I should say every morning). It’s driving me insane. I’ve never felt we must go to bed at EXACTLY the same time. However, at the very least, can we keep our bed times on par with humans, rather than bats, owls, and bugs?
4. Obviously as a follow-up to #3, he’s rolling out of bed at some ridiculously late hours. I’m so annoyed right now that I ignore him at all times regardless, but give me a break. Getting up at 1:00 in the afternoon is for college kids, not grown men with families. Am I right, or am I right?????

I might add items to this list as the days go by. Since it doesn’t appear he’ll be taking a project anytime soon (and will therefore be home 24/7), I assume the list will grow a great deal over the next 5 weeks.

As I’ve mentioned, the top reason I wanted to marry my husband was because he was kind and steadfast through and through. And those qualities have gotten us through near-divorces caused by OTHER qualities he has (and that I have, of course).

In our first three or four years of marriage, I kept learning about “life strategies” my husband used, and uses, to deal with a variety of situations. Some of these strategies HORRIFIED me. The really odd thing is that the more time that went by, the more I learned from the way my husband does things–even though I don’t always agree with his approach.

I thought I’d share one of these strategies with you. It may ring a bell for some of you. I’m going to write this from my husband’s perspective. Pretend he’s reading or speaking the next paragraph. Then I’ll tell you what I’ve learned from this highly annoying strategy and why I now use it regularly.

#1 Husband Strategy of All Time: Say, “I will do it later” to avoid anything for any reason. Even when you have said this 100 times (when, for example, your wife has asked you to mow for the past 100 days), feel free to say it again when asked to do “the task.” Sure, it will infuriate the person asking you to do the task at hand. But pleasing people isn’t the objective. And thank heaven for that. Also, remember that the word “later” isn’t specific–so don’t go making it something it’s not by tacking a day or time to the end of your statement. Keep it straight and to the point: “I’ll do it later.”

What I have learned: I used to be Miss Do EVERYTHING RIGHT NOW and Miss Do EVERY FAVOR ANYONE ASKS me for. By observing my husband, I learned that this is much too stressful. Now my motto is pretty much “I’ll do it later.” Oh don’t get me wrong–I help people who need help. But not when I can’t. Also, not for moocher types, and not for people who are mean or unappreciative, no matter how close a “friend” or relative.  Oh, I don’t have a problem just saying “no” either, but in some cases, “I’ll do it later” is preferable. (Prime example: When my mother-in-law says, “Come visit me,” it’s really better to say “I’ll do it later” than “No, we’re not going to visit you because when we do, you ruin my life.”) The person asking the favor ALWAYS stops asking at some point–so it’s definitely a win/win situation.

Oh, and you know who gets this response from me more than anyone else in the world–my husband! Pretty much all we ever say now is “Can you help me?” or “I’ll do it later.” But somehow it works out–probably because we  both strongly stand by this strategy. We’re united in not doing things right now.

Hello All! I’m so happy. My husband is finally home after 3 weeks. Not surprisingly, we’ve had some embarrassing incidents in the past few days. The MOST embarrassing of all was our grilling “fun” that took place on Saturday.

I’m going to let you know right off the bat that the FOOD was MUY DELICIOSA. I mean, we are talking meat so soft it had the texture of fine bread. Perfect marianade. Perfect taste. Perfect vegetables as well. My husband was the lone chef.

Brief aside: I didn’t lie in the many prior posts when I said he hadn’t cooked a meal for the family in 9 years. That was all true. But recently he took up a sudden interest in grilling, and he has now cooked for the family 3 times. Yep, 3 entire times in 9 years. Let’s do the math. This means that my husband has cooked approximately 1/3 of a meal each year for 9 years. HAHAHAHAHAH. I’m so funny…

ANYWAY. The grilling is marvelous, except one thing. Let me describe my concern by comparing this grilling experience to the times my neighbors grill. Every time my neighbors grill, I notice a succulent scent that makes me feel like I’m floating toward the grilling food, like Sylvester the Cat in the old Looney Tunes cartoons. But when my husband grills, the smell is smoky. As is the view. I’m talking, I can kind of discern a thin layer of smoke in the air around my room, plus I feel that I need to cough.

Now granted, my apartment is a shoebox, so the bathroom window isn’t all that far from my bedroom. But I also noticed that all of my neighbors had closed their windows because when we were eating the grilled food outside after my husband finished preparing it, one by one, our neighbors peeped out at us, then opened their windows quietly. I almost felt that they were saying “Okay everyone, the coast is clear [of heavy smoke]. If he’s eating, he must be done grilling.”

There’s no way you can know for certain how much smoke was in the air–I can only tell you that it concerned me that my baby wasn’t wearing a gas mask. QUESTION: Is this normal? When I went down panicking about it, my husband said, “Oh Holly, leave this to the expert. [He meant himself. Please.] EVERYONE makes this kind of smoke when they grill.” Is this true? Do the neighbors think this is fine–that we are effectively smoking them out of the clean outdoors and forcing them to shut their windows and stuff??? Please inform.

This happened a few weeks ago. I have one visual symbol that I feel effectively communicates what I had to deal with that day, and it is posted above. These scissors are MY FAVORITE kitchen scissors. Oh, sorry, they WERE my favorite kitchen scissors. As you can see, however, something happened to them. Guess what that was.

The incident occurred on a day when we needed to mow. Surprisingly, that day began well despite the need for mowing part. (Usually on the days we need to mow, my husband and I almost get divorced due to his inability to help with that ONE JOB around the house.) But that particular morning, I said, “We need to mow.” And he just started getting the stuff to do it! I nearly fell into a shock-induced coma. However, I was quickly brought back into full, though perplexed, consciousness with the following 2 incidents:

1. After like 5 minutes, he says, “Alright! I’m all done mowing.” I thought, that seems way too fast, even considering the dinky size of our yard. So I go out to look. UM YEAH, figured it out–about 3 spots of grass had actually been CUT. All the rest of the grass was still 8 inches tall but LYING DOWN sideways. In short, almost nothing had even been mowed. I pointed this out, and he got an irritated look on his face and said, “Fine, I’ll mow again. But first I’m going to cut this tree back.” (Uh, correction: Omit the word “again,” Sweetie. But good idea to cut the tree back.)
2. After 10 more minutes, he came inside and said, “Well, I’m going to need to go to Home Depot.” I asked why. He held up my favorite kitchen scissors which were broken in half, and said, “Because these broke.” Apparently he had been trimming the TREE with them.

I said, “You tried to cute the TREE with my kitchen scissors???????”

His response: “Well, we don’t HAVE yard sheers. Plus those tree branches are not that big.” See. See how my life is? But that’s all fine now. I recuperated by asking myself, “Let’s pretend I am forced to choose between these. Which would be better?”:

a) a man who is a really kind husband and father but somehow breaks kitchen utensils while doing yardwork or

b) a man who could mow all of Iowa in a flash and not break a single kitchen utensil in the process, but who was mean to me and the children

Easy. I’d take the guy who’s really nice but breaks kitchen utensils while mowing. Not IDEAL, but an easy choice nevertheless. My life is pretty fun–just sometimes I have to consciously remind myself to laugh rather than cry. That’s fine.

My husband came home for a day while on his job out of town (for one day). It’s wonderful to see him. And absence is so good for the heart, as well as the eyes. He is looking cuter than ever! Of course, this follows a 2 week absence. So, at this point, in my eyes the man would look great regardless of his actual appearance. For example, he could have gained 100 pounds, and he would look perfectly sexy to me right now. Or, he could be sporting his non-shaved head look and still look great.

Note of explanation on that last sentence: Shaved head is the ONLY way for him to go–otherwise, hair gets out of control. He thinks “doing his hair” is unmanly. To him “doing his hair” would involve using any hair product including shampoo (he uses normal soap), combing, or heaven forbid blow drying. See, he needs to be “manly,” therefore when his hair grows, it is horribly uneven, sticks out in weird places, always looks dirty, and is super unattractive. Except perhaps today, when it would look absolutely marvelous to me…

Oh, but this post is about “many” Hot Dads. I will list them for you now:

• Hot Dad #1, my husband, as I just described in detail.
• Hot Dad #2–the one I posted yesterday (who looks identical to my husband). I haven’t run into him again. That suits me fine, as it gives me a guilt complex, though it is also exciting.
• Hot Dad #3 has appeared. But this one’s a little ironic and odd. Let me explain.

Yesterday, I was waiting for my son to come to the gate. I was just minding my own business, observing people. Then I see a guy, a child’s father presumably, running to the school gate–he was late to pick up his child. I noticed he was quite nice-looking. (And I thought to myself, “What’s up with all the Hot Dads? Am I boy crazy or something? Why do I keep noticing Hot Dads? I need to GROW UP.”)

Low and behold, after about four seconds, I recognized him. He’s a friend of ours. It took me a minute because he’d shaved off his 1970s geeky detective mustache. You know, the ones that looked like this:

Sure, it looks GREAT on Johnny Depp as Donnie Brasco (good movie by the way, though old and violent). But for ALL other guys, this is a HUGE no no–except Johnny Depp, they make all men look TOTALLY CREEPY. (Note: If you are a guy, and you have one of these, please contact me immediately for constructive, inspirational suggestions that will intensely benefit your love life. And they’re FREE! Just my way of giving back.)

Oh, so you can imagine my dismay when I realized that New Hot Dad was actually Old Friend Creepy Dad!!!!! WHOA. It’s always strange when you know someone well, and then suddenly become aware that the person is attractive. Hm. I wonder why Old Friend Creepy Dad decided to shave his mustache? It sounds mean to call him this, but I simply can’t continue to refer to a male friend guy as “Hot Dad #3″–that’s just asking for trouble.