Julep: rant

For days I have been mulling over a thoughtful post on the chaotic stage of life in which I find myself, and trying to find time to write it. I don't have time now either, but I have to post this because I need to vent.

We have had dinner plans for a month for Sunday night: our supper club is getting together. This is always a relaxing, enjoyable evening with friends, and the kids get to hang with other kids, and it's a great thing all around. I was really looking forward to it this weekend because it would come after 24 hours in Nashville on the firm retreat, talking about budgets and billing and business development - which will suck, in case that isn't immediately obvious. The weekend just got a lot worse.

Mr. J's dad wants to host dinner on Sunday night for Judgy Grandma's birthday. Mr-Papa will be manning the grill, and Mr-Mama will be inside stressing out as her in-laws always get her torqued up. I will be stuck socializing with Baby Mama Cousin and her mother the Nosy Aunt. I will have to listen to a play-by-play about Baby Mama's son and how he is interacting with the Bear. Meanwhile, there will be no alcohol because Drunk Grandpa is back on the wagon -- which is a good thing for him but not real pleasant for the rest of us. What part of this will be pleasant? None of it. Mr-Papa will char the steaks and Mr-mama will make her nasty bean salad, and of course, Nosy Aunt will bring that damn cheesecake. The whole experience will be awful.

Mr. J called me earlier in the week while I was at work to say that his dad wanted to do this birthday dinner on Sunday. I said, "we already have plans on Sunday." Evidently Mr. J did not bother to relay that back to his father. Now it's Friday and everyone is expecting us on Sunday.

I made the mistake of telling Mr. J I wanted to keep our original plans. I don't want to go to the family dinner, and if they really wanted us to be there, maybe they should have consulted our calendars before scheduling it. Mr. J went into a spiel about how it is Judgy Grandma's birthday and who knows how long she will be around, blah blah. Fine, I said, we will go to your family's dinner. I was very clear: we will go. But I proceeded to tell him exactly how much it is going to suck. Mr. J said, "Think about how bad you would feel if this were her last birthday." And I said, "She's not MY grandma."

Mr. J got really mad, and the conversation deteriorated from there. But here's what I was trying to say: I understand that HE would feel really bad if we didn't go and it was her last birthday. I get that, and I would feel bad FOR HIM if that happened. That's why I said we would go. But me? No, I wouldn't really feel any personal sense of loss if we missed her last birthday. She's not my grandma, I don't have any affectionate history with her, and in point of fact I really don't like her much as a person. She's kind of a manipulative b!tch.

I'm going to go to this sucky awful family function so that Mr. J can feel good about having been there. But what's in it for me? His happiness, not any kind of emotional solace of my own. I'm not going to be feeling any uplift in it for myself. Can't he just accept that I am doing something I don't want to do, FOR HIM, and appreciate that? Why does pointing that out make me the bad guy?

I'm giving up my fun plans for a miserable alcohol-free evening with his awful extended family. Stop trying to convince me it's for my own good and just say thank you.

Twinkle: Waiting for the Sh*tstorm to Begin (Warning: Explicit)

My oldest daughter, A, is 5-1/2 years old.

That's 5-1/2 years of watching people look into her (and her sisters') tired eyes and say, "She's going to sleep well tonight!" And 5-1/2 years of knowing they've instantly cursed us with their bullsh*t announcement. Because nothing guarantees a horrible night more than someone proclaiming that "she's going to sleep well tonight." Just leave it the f*ck alone, everybody. Don't comment on it! Keep it to yourself! Or if you just have to say it to me, how about I f*cking call you to come over at 1 a.m. when my kid is still bouncing off the walls, and you can deal with the situation? Or you can come over and sit in her room when she wakes up at 3 a.m. and sees a shadow on her wall. And I will go to your house and sleep in your bed. How about that? Because, when you say out loud that my kid is going to sleep well tonight, this is what I hear: "I hate you, Twinkle, and I want you to have a miserable Friday night." And then I watch you drive off into the night, knowing that you don't have to deal with the sh*tstorm you have just conjured.

I consider it a statement that you hate me, or at the very least don't ever listen to me, because, for 5-1/2 years, I have repeatedly asked friends and family not to say that to me. I have stated, flat out, on multiple occasions, "Do not say that. Please take it back. It is the worst jinx there is." And, for 5-1/2 years, the worst offender has been Fun Sink's mother, Grandma-in-law; she ignores my pleading at every turn.

So my children spent all day at the State Fair, riding every ride available to the 44-inch and shorter set, admiring the giant produce, eating various junk foods, and seeing the different breeds of goats. Common sense would tell us that they'd be wiped out, but who knows? If I've been asking you for 5-1/2 years to just shut the f*ck up about whether or not they're going to sleep well, please respect my wishes. I mean it now more than ever.

Tonight I said (for the millionth time), "Please stop. Please don't say it. Take it back." And then Fun Sink had to chime in and say, "Oh, but I know these girls are going to sleep well tonight." Did you not just hear me, b*tch? I. Asked. You. To. Stop.

Here's the bad news for you, Fun Sink: I'm probably going to drink wine and have sex with your son anyway.

But until then I'm just bracing myself for the inevitable.

Twinkle: Be Cool, Mr. Twinkle. Be Cool.

(I wrote this earlier today, but couldn't post from my phone for some reason).

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So Michele is cleaning my house today, and I like to be gone while she's there, lest she make me organize a closet or something. My inlaws were supposed to pick up the girls for their non-Newport aquarium day, so I called them to see if we could either meet up or if I could just drop them off.

We got there and they were critical of the facts that 1). Mr. Twinkle wasn't at work yet and 2). I was driving him. We knew they'd say something about both, so I told Mr. Twinks ahead of time that instead of letting them beat him down about it, he should remind them that the reason we took the girls there before taking him to work was that we knew they were anxious to see the girls, and we were trying to do them a favor. (Because, if I'd taken him to work first, they would have been mad at me for being there later than they wanted). Of course Mr. Twinkle had to add definitively, "Shelley's not even there yet! He's doing his physical therapy. He does it every Monday at this time." Ok, buddy. Way to play it cool.

Then there were the questions about his car. Yes, his car is old, but we like it. I take him to work a lot of days because the drive time together is extra time to talk or hang out--it is hard to carve out time to have a conversation together, so chatting while we drive into his office is nice. It works for us, it doesn't hurt anyone else, and who really cares, right? Mr. and Mrs. Fun Sink--that's who. We are forever answering myriad questions about his car and why I'm taking him to work. And I wish he'd just shut it down by explaining it, but he can't explain anything without being defensive, and that just feeds their suspicion of us and the way we do things.

Exhausted yet?

I realized that a big part of my reaction to them is tied up with the dynamic between Mr. Twinks and them, which is kind of unfair. I shouldn't let anyone else determine how I react, but at the same time it's his family and so he sets the tone. His tone is always defensive, because he is constantly under attack for his every action. He is constantly answering questions about boring minutiae, so of course he feels the need to give long, desperate explanations for everything. 

I actually used to do that, too. I stopped when I realized I'll never impress them. They actually don't want to understand my motivations or reasons for anything, so I don't waste my time explaining.

But I think it would be easier to handle being with them if Mr. Twinks could get a handle on that, too. If he were more confident with them, maybe I would be, too. The honest reasons that we took the girls to their house before taking him to work are that we knew they wanted to see the girls/we were trying to do them a favor/we didn't want to hear them complaining that I was too late dropping them off. We were trying to be nice--you're welcome, *ssholes. The reason I'm driving Scott to work is that we like to spend time together. Mr. Twinks needs to work on just giving the one main answer without going into detail about how the car's fine and this way's easier (he's saving big on parking!), etc.

I'm emotionally exhausted and it's 10 a.m. on a Monday.

Twinkle: Fun Sink's Agenda Shut Down

My inlaws' habit of pushing through with their own agenda without even consulting me persists. Tonight they announced that they were taking my children to the Newport Aquarium tomorrow.

Back up to a few days ago...my inlaws are so worried about my SIL going into early labor with Little Lord Fun Sink that they don't want to schedule any overnight visits with my children for the three weeks leading up to the due date, which is actually fine with me because they're assholes and I don't want my children exposed too much. (Plus, hello, morons--if you get a call in the middle of the night while our children are sleeping over, just call Mr. Twinks or me and we'll come over and sleep at your house...easy solution). Anyway, they were insisting that the girls spend the night tonight because it's the last night they feel comfortable having them over, but Mr. Twinks and I said no because we're trying to get them into some good habits before school starts, and bedtimes at home aren't going well, which leads to behavior problems during the day...so, sorry, no, they can't spend the night. So my inlaws said they wanted to spend some time with the girls on Monday. I said fine.

Tonight we had to go to the big August birthday dinner at Uncle Larry's house, where my FIL just announced that the outing for tomorrow is a trip to the Newport Aquarium ("to do something educational," Fun Sink couldn't help but add). They didn't ask. They announced. I have a problem with this because:

1). I hate that road up to Cincinnatti.

2). When the girls do the Newport Aquarium, I want to go with them.

3). We're trying to form good habits and we need E to nap at home.

4). Want to take my children somewhere? Great--but don't tell me! Ask!

Mr. Twinkle said it might be hard to get back before E's naptime. They said they'd pick the girls up earlier. We went back and forth and back and forth and Mr. Twinkle and I said no every way we knew how, and my inlaws threw back another scenario to make the Newport thing work. Finally Fun Sink said, "Well, why don't we leave Newport at around 1:30 and she can just get her nap in the car?" I looked at Mr. Twinkle, exasperated, and he said as clearly as he could that we want her to nap at home. It's not hard to understand, and yet they think they own us and our children, and can just take them to destinations that are hours away anytime they want.

Then Fun Sink got all passive-aggressive and noncommittal about a pickup time. I actually think she has a mental illness. Who thinks they can take someone else's children to the Newport Aquarium, or anywhere else, without asking? And I'm sure she thinks I'm the mean one for saying no to it.