I am sitting in my lovah’s bed while he is at work on the Monday morning between Christmas and New Year’s drinking coffee and reflecting on how far I have come in a few short years. His laptop is really wonky and I will be lucky to get this to actually post, so no pics, no fanfair, just sentences mostly aligned from the left.
This year on Christmas, we had a genuine Modern Family Holiday.
It was all I’ve wanted and dreamed about since Stanley and I started saying the words out loud, “I’m not happy.” Those little words mark the beginning of the decline of civilization for me. Thus began the Apocalypse…”I’m not happy.” Horrible, horrible words. Don’t say them unless you are up for a change.
Stanley and I have always made our Post Apocalyptic parenting work. We’ve had an understanding, unspoken because speaking isn’t our strong point; I mean, communication isn’t our strong point. But being able to put the kids before ourselves has been our strong point (the number of people that can’t do this continues to astound me). We’ve had some unspoken rituals, i.e. he makes huge messes with the kids, I clean them up, but for the most part we’ve managed. However, over the past several weeks, we have transcended even my expectations of what I dared to hope for in the Post Apocalyptic world.
On Christmas Day, Stanley, the children and myself all woke up under one roof and met in the living room to open our gifts at 7:15. Merlot had pulled a fast one and set an alarm for 7 a.m. She slept through it of course, but it woke all of the other inhabitants of the second floor so we shook her naughty behind awake and headed downstairs. We sat in our jammies and yawned while the kids opened their gifts. We drank some coffee, then I went back to my room and Stanley started in the kitchen. I was doing laundry and packing for my flight out to Lovahville scheduled for 5:50 p.m. Stanley made a beautiful dinner. He worked hours in the kitchen and used every single pot, twice. I washed behind him some and we made small talk.
At 1 p.m. his girlfriend arrived. Apparently he got her a puzzle for Christmas. It’s nice to know he hasn’t lost touch with his romantic side. They were again very kissy considering I was in the room, but whatever, it didn’t bother me in the least, I’m just commenting on it because it is odd. Really, it is odd. They sat on their end of the dining room table, and held hands across the table, occasionally leaning over and kissing on the lips. The kids and I just looked at each other several times like, “don’t mind us” (I really need a pic here, it’s killing me) and kept on eating our dinner. Honestly, I was trying not to laugh.
She made a comment that she hoped that next year (and the addition of Al) we could continue our new tradition of spending holidays together and Stanley piped in that he hoped that we could spend them together versus the kids spending part of the day with each of us. He made comment that maybe on alternate years we could alternate which home we went to for dinner so I could see they have talked about it and want me to know how committed they are to our new threesome (soon to be a foursome, thank God).
I asked GF plenty of questions about her family of origin and she told me of her parent’s divorce and her horrible relationship with her stepmother and how it impacted her relationship with her father for many years. She verbalized this as her primary motivation for ‘wanting us all to be friends’. I nodded my agreement and gulped some more wine.
Then they went outside. I didn’t know if it was to have a private make-out session or what but then remembered it was probably a smoke break. Still, the kids and I looked at each other quizzically for a few minutes before we realized the drill. I started clearing the dishes and working in the kitchen and was ready to wash when they came in. I would love to have heard that conversation outside. Somehow, she ended up at the sink and I ended up with the dishtowel, but that kitchen has never been cleaned after a Stanley cook so quickly. She washed and I dried and put away. Stanley came in once and I told him that I had finally figured out it takes two women to clean up after him. She laughed too.
Then I went upstairs and finished my packing. My mom pulled up and hugged them both (her first time to see the GF), I gave the kids lots of goodbye kisses and climbed in her car for a ride to the airport. As soon as the door closed on the vehicle, Mom said, “OH MY!” I said, “I KNOW!”
The thing that is most interesting to me is to see the kind of woman he chose after me. This woman is NOTHING like me. She is masculine, her voice is like gravel, her hands are huge and I would be shocked if she ever had a painted nail in her life. She bosses him around which I never, ever did. Case in point, she said to him, during dinner, “Hey Babe, run out to the car for me and get my Dr. Pepper.”
He got right up and ran like a jackrabbit.
I never did anything like that in 14 years of marriage. She didn’t even ask him to go, she told him. Maybe that was my problem, maybe I asked him too many things and didn’t command him enough. You know, maybe he likes to be told what to do. Maybe he is a submissive and was waiting for a dominatrix all along.
If so, go in there and wash your damn dishes!
Whatever, none of that matters, although it is interesting. What matters, is that we spent the day as a family, our family is growing not shrinking, the kids were happy and are learning some valuable lessons about love, family and how to get along. I’ve got some help washing his dishes now, too.
For all of that, I’m grateful.
Tomorrow I will tell y’all about how I went from tantrum sex to tantric sex.