Top Ten Reasons I Love Husband Face

Us. Showered and shiny (very rare, take it in)


Sorry for the long hiatus. It has been hectic around my very small home. Between visiting my sister in the hospital(who is now home and doing well, fyi), preschool starting back up, work and the beginning of football season (Yes, I am including this in my "Reasons that I am busy rant," I spend an absurd amount of time thinking about/arguing about/watching football), oh and my children and husband and the eating and the bathing stuff, we are busy. Shortly after my last post I regretted writing it. I may seem bitter and and angry (in the post), but I am not. Really that fight lasted until the next morning and then was done. I have learned an important lesson: avoid blogging while angry (even though that is the fastest I have ever written). And sticking with the spirit of openness and honesty, as much as that post makes me cringe and feel like a crazy person, I am going to leave it up. This is me, good, bad and ugly. Enjoy.

In looking for atonement for my poor behavior towards Husband Face, I offer this post. As promised earlier, "The Top Ten Reasons I Love Husband Face."

1. He fixes my broken shit. Over the past several years Husband Face became handy. This was surprising, but awesome. While he will procrastinate and claims he cannot fix certain things (like my silver shiny piggy bank he destroyed in his clumsiness, which I nearly divorced him over) he somehow comes up with a reasonable solution (in the piggy bank situation the solution was copious amounts of glue).

2. Knows how to make me smile. That came out dirty. Clarifying: He entertains me. Whether it be his dry sarcasm or running around the house tackling babies, I am rarely bored when he is around. He is witty and smart with his humor. While I come from a background of loud talking smart asses, he does it (humor) in a much more subtle way, which probably explains why he is generally better liked than me.

3. According to Husband Face, he has superior genes. He claims that he cannot get sick. And while I have seen him sick before, it is rare. Unlike me, who gets sick if someone sneezes within a 50 yard radius of me. I am fragile. I am hoping the children get some of his super human anti-sick genes. This is also beneficial because he always takes care of me when I am sick. It is awesome. If being sick didn't blow so much, I would lick hospital floors to contract the swine flu. Matt lets me sleep all day and brings me toast with 7up and orange juice, while wrangling the grease monkeys. Perfection.


A couple of the children who benefit from the superior genes.

4. Unfortunately, after I get well he leaves, for a good job. I love that he is in a field where he will always have work. And while we can barely afford to support our family, here in America's Finest City (we would be living the good life pretty much anywhere else), he is employed. In a recession. With zero worries about getting fired. It is a major plus.

5. In addition to being employed, he is a genius. Please, don't tell him this. I like to make him think that I am the superior intellect in the relationship, but I am terrified to take any type of IQ test with him. I know he would win, but never want him to know that I think that, does that make sense? Sometimes (when I say "sometimes" I mean "most of the time") when he talks about what he is working on or a problem at work, I nod my head in understanding, but rarely fully comprehend. Lately, I just stopped listening and smile and nod like a goober. This is not an act of rudeness, but rather self-preservation, I NEED to think I am smarter. It is my thing. I am smart and witty, and he is lucky. Really I am hoping that I am the lucky one, I think of him as the next Bill Gates (who Husband Face recently explained to me IN DEPTH is really not that smart, but stole Windows from some other company, blah, blah, blah or was it Steve Jobs, damn it, I think it was, there goes that witty commentary).

6. When he is not being brilliant, he likes (or at least tolerates) snuggling with me. I am a not a needy girl, until I am. It is complex and hurts Husband Faces overly logical brain. I am independent and would rather die than have my husband speak for me in any situation, I am a control freak, I think chivalry is dead and I am happy about it, but I really like cuddling. There are many rules to the affection: not in public (unless I am drunk), he has to smell good, no half hugs (I must be able to bury my head in his chest like a small woodland animal), and I must initiate it. I hate being touched by pretty much anyone else, maybe my dad and children can hug me if I am having a really good or really bad day. But I have never been a hugger. My poor friends probably hate me for not using the acronyms BFF and Bestie often enough and have stopped trying to hug me years ago, but I am not affectionate, and kind of think it is ridiculous and sad (exception: if you are an adolescent, I realize your hormones are doing crazy things. Hugs not drugs, kids). Now that I am stressed out ALL day and have had a headache since 2006, I need snuggle time. And Husband Face always obliges me. He is like a big furry bear or Chewbacca (shout out to his nerd side). He hates snuggling and cannot go to sleep, conversely I cannot go to sleep without being cuddled. On most nights, he waits patiently for me to fall asleep and then gently sneaks over to his side of the bed. Dedication, people.

6. Along (and somewhat coinciding with) the hugging, he calls me pretty. While half the time I am have bodily fluid or condiments on my clothes, he says I look pretty. And when I was 7 months pregnant with twins and yelled at him for complimenting me he didn't take it back until I threatened to go into labor (and then he still said I look cute when I get feisty).

7. Husband Face, as much as he denies it and tries to avoid it, is a good dad. He can't help it. He loves those kids, and while he once yelled at our 2 week old daughter for screaming at 2am for four hours straight "for no foreseeable reason," he still sat there rocking her so I could get an hour of sleep. K-Dog is asks the same question 15 million times and Big J is generally attacking whatever Itty Bitty is playing with causing tears and screams, but every night he still comes home and plays with the mongrels and tries to help me contain the madness.


Nothing sexier than a man who knows his way around a double stroller.

8. Sometimes I am crazy. As previously mentioned, I was not hugged enough as a child (at least that is what I am blaming the crazy on). Somedays, for literally zero reason, I act crazy. I am a control freak and have serious issues. Husband Face makes sure to remind me that I am acting crazy and I need to check myself. Unlike previous boyfriends that tried to reign in the crazy, Husband Face has been the only successful one, the others have gone down in the crazy flames. I admire his persistence, and I am working on the crazy.

9. Along with my craziness, my need for constant compliments and affection (depending on my mood), I cannot cook (I know, I am quite the catch). Also, did I mention that I am the worlds pickiest eater (once again, blaming my childhood full of fast food and toast). If Husband Face is sick of the four meals I can cook well, he cooks for us and it is good. I am going to stop writing about this topic, because it makes me look like a horrible wife and makes Husband Face sound gay (he's not, by the way, case in point the three babies).

10. He is a good person. He is not mean-spirited and is gentle with his sarcasm (unlike some people he may or may not be married to). He is nice and genuine. I feel confident that he will never hurt me intentionally and that gives me peace. Also, "he would be good looking in Boston," (his words, not mine, so Husband Face, try to not fall in love with him).

If You Give A Mouse (or a Husband) a Cookie

Last Wednesday I decided to plan Husband Face a surprise vacation. He has been awesome helping me out since the twins were born, and I wanted him to know that he is loved and appreciated. I knew that our friends were going up to San Francisco for the weekend and thought it would be the perfect chance for him to get away from the chaos that we call home. I also knew that I would not be able to go since we have three children that need quasi-supervision, at least more than Google Video Chat can offer. I was bummed that I couldn't go, but was feeling like the best wife in history.

Not to be cocky or demeaning, but I am completely aware that Husband Face will never be able to surprise me as well as I did to him. He can hardly manage to get me a card on Valentines Day (this is not a joke, all I wanted for Valentines Day was a card, since we are supporting lots of mouths and they drain our souls and bank accounts, and he forgot. Knew it was Valentines Day, but forgot to get me a card. The last 3 birthdays he has either given me cash or a gift card, and he has never gotten me an anniversary present). All of that is fine with me. He makes the majority of the money in our household and he has never regulated my spending (partially because I am the thriftiest person in America, I get off on the Target Dollar Spot and partially because he trusts my judgement). I like giving presents. I know that sounds so corny and self-righteous, but it is true. I am a good person to get a gift from. I think it through and I am diligent. Over the past 5 years, I have bought Husband Face more "ram" and "video cards" (these are tech items that are little and generally silver that he freaks out about) because I listen and remember that he always says he needs more "ram," similar to how I mention I need a pedicure, but my toes are still neglected. I am feeling like this may sound like I am whining, I am not. I really do not care that I am not one of those pampered women. I have always been really independent and I think I would stress out if a Husband Face tried to lavish me with gifts.

That was entirely off point. Back to it. I pumped Husband Face up all week about his surprise. I did not give away any hints, he was completely clueless. I had him come home early on Friday and then blindfolded him and put him in the car. I drove through shopping centers and around the local college three times to confuse his sense of direction. It was perfect. We got to the airport (which he guessed because of the distinct geography we had to drive through and the roaring planes flying over head) and he was so excited to go. I had packed him a bag and his laptop, which included a long letter about how much I adore him and gushed about how lucky I was to have such a great life partner. It was ridiculous. A big ego booster for the Husband Face. Then our friends came over to the terminal and off he goes to San Fran.

The Surprise Unveiled:

Then I am alone. This is the first time in nearly 5 years that we have been apart for more than a day. Never have I spent a night alone. Friday night I couldn't fall asleep until 3am, because no one was snuggling me. Saturday night I was awake until 1:30am, and finally caved and let the dog sleep with me (wagging her tail in my face all night, she was stoked). The kids were actually really easy. I spent a lot of time going through bins of baby clothes. I went to the ICU to visit my sister a few times. My fabulous mother-in-law entertained K-Dog all weekend. I showered once. I remembered to lock 2 of the 3 locks in our home. I took out the trash once it started to reek. Overall I would consider me as a single parent a success. Not once did I talk to Husband Face sober, which is fine, I expected him to get belligerent. The night we video chatted he broke into a ballroom at the hotel in order to find free WiFi. He proceeded to tell me how much he loves me and the children for 20 minutes (it was drunk chatter ending in him dropping the laptop and nearly falling asleep). I am glad he didn't get arrested.

Sunday rolls around. I am thrilled that he is coming home. I spent the day back to school shopping for K-Dog, and cleaning the garage (one of the items on HIS list). I slowly realize around 6pm that I haven't heard from the crew all day. This worries me. They went on a Napa Valley wine tour and I can picture Husband Face and his buddies jumping off of the returning ferry. I know that much free wine is trouble for my lush husband. Husband Face is supposed to be at the airport by 8pm to make his 9pm flight. At 8pm one of the girlfriends calls me and sounds flustered:

Me: What's wrong? Is Husband Face at the airport?

My poor friend: No. He is wrestling in the pool with my boyfriend.

Me: WHAT THE FUCK?

My poor friend: I lost control 5 hours ago.

(I was right. The wine tour did him in. I can hear the them "playing" in the background. At this point I feel so bad for my friend. Not only does she have to deal with her boyfriend, my husband is just fueling the fire without a wife to contain him.)

Me: I am married to a teenager.

Over the next two hours there is a string of phone calls in which Husband Face blames ME for missing his flight (because I sent him on the amazing bay area vacation). I have K-Dog crying uncontrollably because he wants to see his Daddy, I am going through snuggle withdrawals and have been limited to talking with infants and small children all weekend so was desperately wanting adult interaction, even if he smelt like red wine and sweat. I am not mad that he missed his flight. That would be stupid. I am mad because he was to wasted and then missed his flight, neglected to call me, somehow blamed it on me and left me another snuggle-less night. Not okay. And when hormonal Italian women are mad we call our friends and cry...

I call College Barbie. And as I am describing what I would like in the divorce and how I never would be so selfish/careless and she basically says, "Bitch calm down, you love him" which I did, and I do. However, am still very much upset, but no longer wild and crazy upset. In lieu of a divorce, I am watching the new episodes of Mad Men and Entourage BY MYSELF and then DELETING them. Don't piss off your wife with access to the DVR, especially on a Sunday night.

My Gray Child

Husband Face and K-Dog playing in his room.

Side Bar:
Like the "sun shade" on his windows? K-Dog was waking up "with the sun," and I was getting cranky. I started looking for blackout window coverings and it was going to cost us $80 for ONE window. Solution: Black sheet, stapled to the framing, $4. Works like a charm. Looks perfect when it is down and keeps it cooler in there during summer, warmer in winter. I literally do an evil laugh every time I think about the suckers buying "blackout shades." Sue me if my home isn't Pottery Barn approved, actual living human children live here, we cannot afford style and class.

Over the past several weeks I have been spending my nights with my sister at ICU bed #1. Most nights I am able to put the babies to bed but K-Dog is left to fend for himself with Husband Face. I try to call him right before he goes to sleep to ask him how his night went (generally on summer nights he is allowed to do fun things like swim or bike or tackle our dog).

On this particular night he went night swimming with Husband Face:

K-Dog: Hi Mama. I went swimming and played with a boy. He let me play with a gun and I shot him.

Me: Wow. What a nice boy. What boy was it?

K-Dog: The brown boy.

Me: Ummm. Who?

K-Dog: The brown boy. He is my friend and he has a gun.

Me: Put your father on the phone.

(I can hear Husband Face laughing)

Husband Face: Hi.

Me: You cannot let K-Dog refer to people by the color of their skin. I am pretty sure we will get thrown out of preschool.

Husband Face: No, it's fine. I think it is funny.

Me: Of course you do. Please have a race relations talk with your 3 year old before bed tonight.

Husband Face: That does not sound fun. Do we have a book that can explain it?

Me: Deal with it. Welcome to parenthood, nice of you to show up.

The following is what Husband Face relayed to me when I got home that night:

Husband Face: K-Dog, you cannot call people by their color.

K-Dog: Why not? You are gray.

Husband Face: Really. What color are you?

K-Dog: Gray. So is Mama, Itty-Bitty and Big J. Leia (the dog) is brown. My teachers our brown.

Husband Face: Ok, interesting. But we call people by their names.

K-Dog: I forget names, a lot.

Husband Face: Good point.

Awesome. Now I have spent countless hours trying to dig into his tiny little mind. It is not like he is being a racist. I am almost positive his preschool curriculum hasn't covered slavery or the civil rights era. Although with Barack as President, K-Dog is very curious. Being a politically vocal and inquisitive individual over the past year we have had many discussions about race/civil rights in my home, as well as on the news (which is ALWAYS on in the background of my world).

K-Dog constantly asks me: Do you like Obama or Uncle Sam? (Not the national personification of the United States, my brothers name is Sam).

or

Who is better Beyoncé or Obama? I like Beyoncé she is a single lady. (This is not a joke, he really loves Beyoncé).

I think his little brain is now more aware of other people and not so self involved. I am going to chalk this little exploration into race as childhood curiosity and not me raising a bigot. While I am not entirely sure of how to raise a child, I am steering clear of racial slurs in his expanding vocab. For now, I am not going to dive into a huge discussion on the history of race in America. I am simply trying to work on the child's capacity to remember names, as to avoid any awkward public moments and continue on my raising open minded, hippie children.

Really you think your kids are cute? Have you seen K-Dogs' dimples?

Sunday

I have probably lived more than a quarter of my life. Just when I feel like I am starting to figure my world out something happens that changes everything. I have made a list (remember I love lists) of the days/moments that turn my life in a different direction, usually not one that I planned. I put them in chronological order to ease confusion amongst the readers.

-In April 2001 I got my first job. This was so huge in my world. First of all I was one of the only people, aside from one of my best friends, College Barbie, that actually had a job. I went to school in this strange world of middle to upper class kids that were to busy to be employed. And by busy I mean they were going on "missions trips" and had choir practice and three different church services they HAD to go to, so obviously they couldn't pay for their cars or food or clothes, they were serving the Lord. This is a whole separate issue, and truly not relevant to this post. And I will add that 90% of the people that I went to school and church with are genuinely good people with good intentions. Also, at this time in my life I was also attending the occasional mission trip, and I am sure the greater Seattle/Vancouver area is still reeling from my visit, but I am bad at religion and never really got it. Like I said, a whole different post.

Back to the job. I started working at a movie theatre. I met new people that I had not known since I was five, unlike my school where I was literally in K-12 with the same folks (I have had the same best friends since my early childhood, we could be a fun girl movie). These new friends were creative and liked to talk about films and music and art. I had so much energy and was so naive, I literally could not wait to go make my own money and take on new responsibilities. I loved that job and think everyone should clean at least one movie theatre in their lifetime, you will never litter again. I saw every movie, for free, and felt liberated, not enough to ever say a four-letter-word or stop going to church, but it was a start. That job opened my eyes to new types of people and ideas, an truly great experience that I cherish.

Me and holding a very expensive piece of paper.

-In the Fall of 2003 I went away to college. I remember packing my little Toyota Celica so tight it was hard to find the radio, seriously I put a bike INSIDE the car. I only stayed for a semester at that college, but I was hooked. I loved learning. I loved sitting down with a new class schedule and thumbing through it to find the perfect class to fill a time slot. I loved studying until I fell asleep in the library. I loved starting over. Truly school is something that I can manage with ease. It was never too difficult for me, granted I was a Communication major, not exactly rocket science. Teachers loved me and I was an eager student for them to feed ideas to. I soaked it all up. Daily I wish I was on a college campus somewhere heading to a class to discuss the previous nights reading. Graduating was a sad day for me, the end of my eager student era. K-Dog is in summer school at my Alma Mater and everytime I pick him up I wish I was walking from a Rhetorical Theory class and not from the latest mommy play date. I am a nerd at heart.

K-Dogs first Christmas morning.

-My spring break in 2005 was a big one. I met Husband Face and shortly thereafter was prego with K-Dog. It is strange how pregnancy changes you. Aside from the glaring body image issues, I instantly become less selfish. Sharing my body with a fetus is not fun for me. I am not one of those happy cute pregnant women. I was miserable and not a fan of waddling around college campuses. But I did it. I was bound and determined to not mess up this kids life. I realize we are only three years into this parenting gig but, I am fairly confidant in saying that we have avoided giving him major psychological issues. K-Dog makes sure to remind me daily that I am not an old pro, and need to be more patient and not threaten to take away his speaking privileges (True Story: One afternoon I forbid him from talking until his father came home. You would have done the same thing if you had been fielding questions all day about why my car doesn't talk like Lightning McQueen or why we cannot eat lunch while we are in the pool).

Cuddling.

-In January 2009 we brought the twins home from the hospital. They were really not that difficult to deal with when we were at the hospital, partially because K-Dog was with his grandma and partially because ALL I had to do was hold them. No laundry or dishes or dirty floors were glaring at me. Also, I love nurses, enough said. Once Itty Bitty and Big J were at home everything changed. I immediately felt like the Old Woman who lived in the shoe with all so many kids she had no clue what to do.

The space issue was major, well still is. The first three months of their lives they slept in various places in our room. Itty Bitty had colic and major reflux issues so she was in a modified Pack n' Play that was elevated to accommodate her issues. Poor Big J got shoved in our walk in closet in a baby hammock. Mind you, this is not a master suite, it just a room with a tiny bathroom and walk-in closet, not spacious without four people sleeping in it, but we literally had no other options. Since then we have all three of the ankle bitters in the other room. K-Dog is in a twin bed, Big J is in a full size crib (which he briefly shared with Itty Bitty. You always here cute stories about twins cuddling and sleeping together for years, this was not the case for us. Big J often "attacked" Itty Bitty), and Itty Bitty is in the same Pack n' Play. They are still no where near sleeping through the night, it has been a long 6 months.

Aside from the cramped living conditions, the noise and overall stress in the household increased exponentially from each child. I know that I will one day look back and long for the days that I had to run a hair dryer for 45 minutes to get the twins to sleep and had to prepare for hours to do simple activities like going to the pool (less than 50 yards from my front door), but right now in my current state of mind, I often think about escaping with a good book and a strong margarita to a private island with no kids allowed.

Multiple babies changed me much more than just having K-Dog. He was a relatively easy baby and I still had MY life going on. The twins have drained any social tendencies I had left. Even if I had the time to go out, I think I would opt for a good nap.

My lil' sister holding Itty Bitty or Big J (I know I am a bad mother for not having a clue which child it is)

-On July 19, 2009 my little sister was in a really bad car accident. We were basically told to say our goodbyes a few times. I have never been in an ICU or had to deal with any type of tragedy. So I have definitely had finer moments of composure. As of today she is stable, but it has been a rocky couple of weeks. Lil' Sis is still unconscious, has a broken neck, had brain swelling/bleeding, lungs collapsed and is currently in traction with a broken femur. The hospital she is at is the best, but about 40 minutes from my home and the ICU is obviously not kid friendly, but I try to make it there daily. I sit and read Harry Potter (which I have been warned could cause more damage, but I am confidant that they have not read the CHILDRENS' book) to her. I had one bad bad day with lots of crying and questioning and now that is done. It is not productive to cry or be sad. I am hopeful and trying hard to have a positive attitude.

From all bad events/days/circumstances a lesson can be learned. This tragedy has taught me to give lots of hugs and tell people you love them a lot, even if I don't at that moment. And while lots of people draw on faith in times of trouble, I am not one of them. As previously stated in this post, I am bad at religion. I am glad that my family feels comfort from prayer, and it seems to bring them peace. I also love these people a lot and I am grateful for their support and love, especially during this tough time, even though they know (maybe not accept) that I am a a bleeding heart liberal making my own crazy path wandering away from their religion.

Please keep my sister in you thoughts/prayers/good vibes. I will take help from any Deity. Also if you are in the greater San Diego area you can donate blood under group code JS21. If you would like updates about my sister from my persistent father you can check out her Facebook Page.

Too Hot To Have Body Image Issues

Palm Springs in all of it's very hot glory.

The Rancho Las Palmas, has an awesome kid area with popper park, beach (with sand) and a lazy river. We didn't even go to the adult pool because we felt like we related more with the children and the noise.

For our second wedding anniversary we decided to go to Palm Springs for a one night getaway. Neither of us had been there since high school (apparently Husband Face went with some man named Bruce in a van for a "tennis trip," he has never played tennis before, this is suspect) and since it is literally hotter than hell there (I imagine that hell is 100 degrees, to keep it simple for the demons) the hotel rates are dirt cheap in the summertime. Honestly we could have stayed in the Motel 6 down the street and would have been so overjoyed to sleep a solid 5 hours, but Husband Face did it up big (well, "big" for two poor people that have basically been on house arrest and sleep deprived for the past six months).

It was such a teaser vacation. We know that no one can handle all of our kids for over one night, so as we sat poolside it was bittersweet. Bittersweet for two reasons:
1) We didn't want to get to comfortable in our inner tubes, because we knew the screams of little children was our fate in a few short hours.
2) I had two babies 6 months ago, I have zero motivation/time to go to the gym, a bikini was not my ideal outfit choice. However, it was so damn hot, going outdoors in anything more than a loincloth would be criminal.

About 20 minutes into our lazy river experience Husband Face and I concluded that we need to get our jiggly butts to the gym. There were women and men double our age that, while they were leather like and will most likely develop skin cancer, had rocking bodies that made our not obese but leaning towards extremely neglected bodies, sad. After observing this we proceed in drinking 1,000's of calories in margaritas and sat in our tubes for 3 hours. We also got milkshakes and fries on the drive home. Seeing beautiful people in bathing suits profoundly affected us for half a day.

I ran for a quarter of a mile to Petco with my crazy dog biting my ankles the whole way. I have also gotten dressed for the gym 3 times resulting in zero actual trips to the gym. Right now I am in gym attire, and I am seriously considering going once Husband Face reappears from his daily 8-10 hour hiatus. But it is highly unlikely I will be able to peel myself away from my viral videos. Latest addiction: Anything preformed by the NYC Gay Men's Choir.