Why My Kids Suck (last updated 8/22/12)

One time, after a fight, I sat on his lap and cried onto his shoulder about how I didn't want to be like my mom. Etc.

"I think you're a great mom."

That's what he said. He had kept me from leaving that night and he cemented it with those words.

Then I married him.

And my kids started to suck.

My kids are the most well-behaved, respectful, never-throw-tantrums-in-public kids you will ever meet. Guaranteed.

But now that I'm married, my kids are horrible. They've taken up his spare rooms that were sealed off in the winter because they weren't even used, you understand. What horrible little people they are.

Recently, we had a fight and in our make-up, talk it out phase he said (paraphrase as best I can):

"You look forward to your kids coming home (from their summer visitation with their father). I don't. They're lazy and sloppy and this house is filthy. I used to be able to keep myself occupied during the week after work. I didn't get bored. I liked the quiet time. On Friday night I might get lonely and I might go to the bar and find a girl, but, other than that I was fine."

As I've recently covered, I never once, NOT ONCE, even broached the subject of marriage. He knew he was dating a single mom. He had interacted frequently with my kids, played with them, acted like he liked them, lord knows they liked him. He asked us to move in with him.

Somehow, it's my fault that they take up his spare rooms with their toys all over the fucking place and don't care about his pristine rugs and walls. Their fault. My fault.

But he wants a baby with me. And works very hard to make one. And somehow I'm the dumb ass who goes along with it and lets him try. Why?

Because I think it will change him. (I know better.)

Because I promised I would. (Before. Before all this.)

And so, it all comes down to depreciation. He said in a fit of anger that he needs to work depreciation into my monthly expenses as myself and my kids put wear and tear on his house and appliances.

In the end, I've decided to keep a list of all the things that suck about my kids. Who knows? Maybe I'll learn to be a better mother. Mostly, I hope I'll learn to be a better role model for my teen-age daughter and GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE.

***Today (8/16, my kids came home two nights ago and spent about four hours home by themselves yesterday [eldest is in high school]), he was irritated:
1) My son's glass he had been using (we must each use the same cup the whole time in between dishwashing loads because it is wasteful not to) because there was lasagne stuck all over the outside of it.
2) He had to kill four flies. Sure, flies get into HIS house from time to time, but not four. Four get in because my kids were in and out all day when no one was home. What the fuck were they thinking? Kids NEVER go outside, then get thirsty and come in for a drink. Later, maybe even five minutes later, they NEVER have to come in to eat lunch. I'm sure MOST kids never want to come in after that for a snack. MOST kids probably don't even come in for a toy they want to play with. Finally, I doubt there's a child on this planet who thinks that, even though they've already come into the house five times in the last few hours, they should probably go in anyway to use the bathroom. MOST KIDS aren't like mine. Therefore, they are as irritating as all shit.
And, let's face it, there's no one to blame but me. What with all that pressure to either get married or break up. Oh, and the fact that I pretended not to be a mother until it was too late for him to back out.
No one to blame but me.

***So, we had a huge fight on 8/16 after I blew up about how he always has a problem with my kids and I have to hear about it everyday that they're here (and not at their dad's) when I get home from work. The next day, I tried to make up with him and we went on a date. Things have been pretty good until today, 8/22.
Dinner was done, due to my poor planning, before he got home from work. It was my day off. The kids and I finished about 20 minutes before he got home. When he got home, I went out to greet him and explained that we already ate. I joked that I would leave him alone while he ate. He joked back, "thanks."
He went out to the back yard to eat at the picnic table. His dad made it. It's pretty cool. We've eaten out there twice so far and both times it's resulted in a fight. I hadn't labeled it a bad omen. Until tonight.
I went outside to chat toward the end of his meal. Small talk, then, basically my son is a farm animal who makes the most irritating sucking sounds when he eats and if it doesn't stop, we will have to eat dinner, not as a family, but in shifts.
Given that it's been less than a week since I told him that I'm fed up with him picking on my kids, I explain that I'm going to leave so I don't start a fight. I go sit out front.
He follows me. To him, it basically comes down to the fact that, since I'm sensitive to criticism about my kids, he isn't allowed to bring any issues he has to my attention. And we can't solve anything because I just take it wrong.
To me, even after a big fight on the subject and less than a week of happiness, the fact remains that, in the best of circumstances, he can't go five days without telling my why my kids suck.
I can't help but add that, today, my oldest shared a comment he made on Facebook 3 years ago. While we were discussing how much my kids suck, I told him that these horrible things about my kids were things he might have taken into consideration before asking us to move in. He replied that he wasn't dating my kids, he was dating me. I called him out on that, stating that, except for the every-other-weekend(ISH) that my kids spent with their dad, he got to know them quite well as every minute he spent with me he spent with them. He shrugged me off like I was lying. I find it strange that he made a comment on the Facebook wall of an 11-year-old he barely knew existed three years ago. Strange, indeed.

The Person I Want to be With

Sometimes I find myself thinking things that begin with, "The person I want to be with..." I immediately stop myself.

If things don't work out with my husband, I don't want to be with anyone else. It's not a him or nothing thing. It's become more of a him or me thing.

I am perfectly okay with keeping my own company until death do me part. I've been at my best when I am alone. I have lots of good friends and find masturbation to be rewarding.

But, as a woman, if I am going to spend my life with someone, I want it to be with someone who does little things to take care of me. There are small, meaningless things that make me feel cherished. Like when we go to a sporting event or a concert and he holds my ticket for me. I never knew how much this little gesture in my previous relationships showed.

I never knew until I discovered that my husband would leave me outside at the gate and go in without me unless I hold my own ticket.

The first couple of times we did this type of thing together, he'd hand me my ticket and I thought nothing of it. But, as we became closer, I'd say, "Oh, you just hold it for me, please. I don't want to hang onto it."

And he'd refuse. And it's become the sort of thing that really bothers me. I can't really explain why. It seems stupid, but maybe it's just the sum of other things that makes it annoying.

In any case, I'm at a point in my life where I see how much being alone is so much more appealing than being with someone.

The person I want to be with.
The person I want to be with.
The person I want to be with.

The person I want to be with is the kind of man who doesn't think holding my ticket is such a big deal.

In the Beginning

I have been married for just shy of 11 months. It has been the worst year of my life. Rarely does a day pass where I don't think I would have a more full life with my three children on my own. I never thought being alone was a bad thing, I've never been afraid of being alone. I just thought my life with my husband would be richer and that he possessed all of the things I do not, thereby balancing my faults.

The first year we spent together was amazing. I never fully fell in love with him, but I loved being with him. I find his physical presence calming and I like the person I was becoming with him. When things started truly getting serious, I had to make a decision. Of course I was already aware of his faults but everyone has faults, especially me. I made a decision that all of the places I messed up before were places I wouldn't go if I had him in my life. My life with him would be a happy one.

I made a decision to love him.

We got engaged after dating for two years. I moved in with him for a year after we got engaged and it started going to shit. 

Much to my detriment, I am nothing if not adaptable. So I gave him credit after credit for the big changes that occurred in his life after finding a new house with a woman and her three children. Naturally, it would be a difficult situation. I still had my children at the end of every day to balance me out. He had nothing.

So I ignored the read flags, opted on the side of stability for myself and my children and married the douchebag one year later.

Four years.  That's how long we've been together now. The last two are erasing all traces of the relationship that made me decide to love him.

I told myself at the beginning of this year that I would start this blog so I could keep better track of my ups and downs and hopefully use the trends to create better communication. But I have the most flexible personality of anyone you'll ever meet and I always calm down about things by the time I would sit down and write them.

Now, I've come to the conclusion that I must write this. My sole intent in life is to get myself to a financially secure place where I can leave him. I want to make him hurt the way he's made me hurt and I don't have a vindictive bone in my body. Yet, that's where I'm at.

And it's certainly not a healthy home.