I know why people have children.

I have never had a strong urge to breed. I always felt that having children is a calling, a calling dictated to you by God. Having children is a privilege and if one is meant to be parent, one will be. So, I never understood all those people who don't seem too interested in children and the activities involved with having children, yet they go on to have a whole gaggle of them. If having children is such a drag, there are options today to prevent that.

But now I might have some insight into why people have children: to avoid taking care of their husbands. As I have said before, husbands are worse than children, they sulk, they are stroppy, moody, demand your time and attention, and to add the cherry on top, they are not cute. They are just one big sulking, stroppy, overgrown teenager. So, in light of that, I can see why people would rather have a child/children to take care of instead of a grown man-child. At least you can draw in the comfort that no matter what tantrums your children throw all day, no matter how difficult bath time was, and now unbearable getting your child to eat his or her dinner was, at the end of the day, they look up at you with adoring eyes and say "I love you mommy" or "you are the best mommy ever". Those few words can melt away the disastrous day you have had with them. Your husband will never show you unadulterated appreciation and no sane woman wants her husband to address her as "mommy"-unless if you are Ted Kennedy. 


Though this may be the obvious to most women who are mothers, it is a total revelation to me. If you have to take care of someone, it might as well be your child. One of the number one complaints of men these days is that their wives focus all of her attention on the kids and not him and that's probably the number one reason why men stray (Tiger Woods, David Boreanez, both of these men have young attractive wives with small children), they are no longer the center of attention and they want to recapture that feeling of being the number one priority to someone, so they go off and find a bimbo who will tell them anything they want to hear at a price. How needy and insecure is that? Even my husband, who I consider a very self-affirmed man, makes snide comments when I coo at my cat too enthusiastically, believing that I prefer the cat over him. Except the truth is...let's just leave it at that.


Many neo-feminists now muse that perhaps our grandmothers had it right after all. We need to pay attention to our men, get dressed up for them when they come home from work, put on some perfume and make up, make dinner for them and let them believe that they are the king of the castle and that they are appreciated. If your husband is happy at home, even at the expense of your own sanity, he will be well behaved, less likely to take off with the neighbor's daughter etc. After 40 years of feminism, where we are making our own money, forging our own careers, leave behind unsuitable spouses and boyfriends like a bad 80's hairdo, I must acknowledge, that our children have paid dearly for that-in the form of broken homes and only seeing their dads on the weekends (or never) and possibly going on to forge broken relationships and families of their own. But even in light of all this, I still would not go back to how our grandmothers lived their lives. I can tolerate a life of transient loneliness but not domestic tyranny.

"You became a housewife"

"You became a housewife", were the immortal words uttered to me by a dear friend. This assessment came after a long online chat session about where we are at in our lives. Both of us had retreated from the corporate rat race for sometime now. My friend is a gifted designer with a great entrepreneurial spirit and is never short of ideas, she has worked from home for a few years. I always envied her, she has a discernible skill that very few have so she can earn a living at home and as a bonus, she gets to spend all day with her pack of furry friends by her legs all day.

I had also retreated from the corporate world, not entirely by choice but because the industry I was in was pretty much wiped out by the sub prime mortgage fiasco and the recession that followed and so I took that opportunity to move out of the county I was in and tried to work from home, it turns out that I don't have a identifiable skill to work from home and  I lack the discipline-I hate to admit it, I thought I had great discipline, but I don't. The other aspect of working from home, which was totally unexpected for me were the tensions that would arise from that situation. I spent more time tending to the requests of others (husband and elderly relative) than doing my own writing or practicing my interpretation and translation skills. It was too convenient for them to just shout my name when they couldn't find something, forgot something, or just too lazy to go to their mental CPU storage unit and retrieve the answer for themselves. I felt like I was a live customer service center always ready to answer any and all questions. 

This left me feeling frustrated and angry at times, I felt like I wanted to escape-from my own home, it was ridiculous. It is not right for me to feel unhappy, depressed, stressed out in my own home. So, I did the next best thing to get myself out of the house, I found a job. Any job that didn't require me to mop floors. It was what I needed and my prayers were answered (I prayed to God to help me find peace and balance in my life, whatever form it came in was fine with me). I started to feel useful again and I was learning something new and my language skills were put into use for the first time in my professional career. 

Another dimension to my dilemma were the feelings of guilt I felt towards my family, I felt like I was being disloyal to them by having these negative thoughts about my situation. I can't blame them for treating me like a live customer service center, I put myself in that role and now I loathe it. I kick myself every time I hear my name called and something is being asked of me, so it was time for a change. And people don't like change, even the most self-aware and self-attuned people don't like change, when I announced that I got a job and that I will no longer be home to answer the bidding of everyone (I left the last bit out); I was originally met with "well, what am I going to do now, what about me" type of responses, which I promptly answered, "you'll get used to it, just like before." Indirectly reminding everyone that I had a job from Monday to Friday, 9 to 5 once upon a time.


Since I was a child, I was constantly told how my bilingual skills will outshine my peers and competitors, sadly, this has not happened. Every job I had up until now, my bilingual skills played no part in it, I could have been a semi-literate English speaker with horrible syntax and grammar who can barely spell, like many people I have worked with before, it wouldn't have mattered. So, as I relayed all this to my friend, she said that she understood my feelings, which I totally expected. If anyone is to understand my feelings of conflict and disloyalty to the ones closest to me, it would be her. And it was at this juncture she said to me "you became a housewife" and I shuddered, I have become the dreaded housewife-without the desperation, yet. 


I am not a die-hard man hating feminist. I don't think that being a housewife is less than a working woman. I don't have very strong views about whether to work or not once you have children. It's to each their own, many would love to stay home more often and spend quality time with their children, but economics won't allow it. There is no right or wrong way here. It's just that I never think I would become a 'housewife' before I had children, to me, housewife and mother went together, not housewife and nothing else. And to my husband's credit, whatever he lacks in communication skills, he makes it up with his keen sense of perception, he realized that I was happier and perhaps he was happier too, not having me there all day. More breathing room for the both of us. I never did ask him how he felt about the both of us being home all the time. I am not a big proponent of 'talking about everything', especially when one has no choice in the matter thus cannot enforce a change, there is no point in talking. From my perspective, it's best that I don't spill my thoughts, a lot of times it's not pretty and they should just remain as my thoughts.

Something to call my own

So that 'job' that I started a month ago has turned out to be a good thing. The 'job' that I so inconvenienced everyone with (for such low pay) has turned out to be something I could do well. It's to do with international logistics and it has turned out to be a really good opportunity to learn about the nitty gritty details in import and exporting, booking containers and dealing with shipping related matters. It's quite interesting and not as droll as I thought it would be. Most of all, it has given me an identity outside of what I do with my husband and I am quite liking it. I always knew that an independent soul like me could never work full time with my husband on a home business. I will end up despising him-through no fault of his own. 

After less than one month, they have decided to hire me full time and permanent and I was even able to negotiate a salary that I could live with (being that I am new in this field). My flexibility and 'easy-going nature' (ha ha) has paid off. It's also great to work with real adults, who are not suffering from high school hangups. It's great to work with people in the same intellectual level as you and you are not prone to pettiness. It feels such a relief, after being at so many jobs where it's just an upgraded version of high school drama, where there were still 'cafeteria' seating arrangements, except now it's the lunch room. 

The last couple of years, I have tried to work on myself, quietly. I have tried to not be swayed by the drama of others and to not let others negativity get to me and I tell myself that it's their problem not mine. Just because they are having a psychotic moment, it does not mean I have to join them. It's terribly hard at times, especially with the ones you love-it feels cold and detached to not get emotionally involved in their problems, but you can't. If I got involved with everyone emotionally, I would have to be committed by now. 

Spoiled people

Much debate has been devoted to the subject of spoiled children and how unattractive that is. It sucks out their very cuteness when they behave like a spoiled brat. But little conversation has been devoted spoiled adults, which in my opinion are ten times worse. Spoiled children manifest themselves in pretty uniform ways, screaming, throwing themselves in the middle of the cereal aisle at the grocery store, whining incessantly through church service or a dinner at a friend's house etc. And children behave badly is due to their tender age, their inability to fully express themselves verbally and add to that feelings of frustration. But once children are understood and they know that you get what it is that they are trying to tell you and no you will not buy them those sweets, they generally stop behaving badly. Of course there are always exceptions to the rule.

Spoiled adults manifest themselves many different forms and sometimes you won't recognize it until the behavior has exhibited themselves for awhile. There is nothing more unsightly than seeing a grown man sulk, yes, men are the worst offenders. Men have the luxury to be spoiled, women don't. We have to work, we have to keep our house in order and we just don't have the time or inclination to whine and moan about anything and everything, we just get on with it. 

If this current recession has show us anything is that women are made of stronger stock. We don't come home and shoot our families to death and then burn down the house because we lost our jobs and made a few bad investments. We don't physically abuse other people because things are going badly at work or that we feel the strain of having to prop up our whole households by ourselves. We have had to prop up our households anyways, regardless if our husbands had a job. Women do what they have to do without consideration to pride and ego. The welfare of the family comes first.

Sorry, I am suffering from a bout of misandry today. 

Feelings of sadness

My father's house is sold and it will close this coming Monday and starting from that day the house will belong to another person and become their family's legacy. A relative of mine is helping me sort out the final details like holding an estate sale, donating away what has not been sold and taking the rest to the dumpster. 


My sadness is also combined with disappointment, I wanted to keep the house for posterity, I wanted my kids (when I get around to that enterprise) to see the house their grandpa built. But, alas, it is not to be and the reasons are many as is the blame. It's not just any old house, it was a house that my father designed and built and it's an amazing house considering that he was not was not schooled in any of the disciplines required to build a house from the ground up. I was always so proud that I could tell people that my dad built his house and now it will not be his nor my house anymore. 


The journey to this juncture is long and complicated but I accept the blame (I find it easier to cope with things when I take responsibility for the things I contributed to a situation). It gives me a false  sense of control. To make a long story short, the reason that I ended up in this position of having to sell one of my most beloved possessions is because I caved to the pressures of my life. It is such a burden to be the sole provider of your family, especially of your other half is a proud man. It's such a delicate balancing act of not having to hurt the other person's pride. They weren't kidding when they said that it was a man's recession, it really is. It would be so nice if this burden can be lifted off of me or if not at least be allowed the freedom to do as I please with how to organize our finances. It's so difficult to have to go on and pretend that your husband is the provider when he clearly is not and to have to include him in all of your money decisions like he was the one earning it. I don't know why I do it? I suppose that I love him very much and I don't want him to feel diminished and humiliated. 


Lately, I have been suffering from a bout of misandry. When it comes down to it, it is the women of this world that bear the burden of our families. It is the women that put their pride aside and do the work that needs to be done to support her family, while the men are griping about how their jobs have disappeared to India. And on top of shouldering all the burdens, we have to worry about the pride and ego of our menfolk. 

Happy Easter

I realized yesterday was the first time I went to a proper Easter Sunday mass. I was baptized two years ago on Easter Vigil, which is the day before but for one reason or another, I was never able to make to church on Easter Sunday itself. 

Needless to say, it was very festive, children in their Sunday's finest, little girls with pink bows in their hair and Easter baskets in their hand. It was a picture of loveliness. I suppose as a parent, one waits for occasions like this and I suppose a successful holiday season where your children are well behaved will erase the one million tantrums they've thrown up until then. 

Parenthood is a  mysterious subject to me, not because I am not a parent, I have been around enough people who are parents in my life to get an idea what it's like. My relationship with my parents are spotty at best, like all people, there are ups and downs but in general it is good. I love them and I know they love me. I have no lingering bitterness or resentment towards them, which I believe is the most optimal outcome regardless how your relationship was before. 

What is mysterious to me is how acrimonious and antagonistic some parent/child relationships are, people put in huge sacrifices to become parents, some people give up their whole life's dream because of parenting duties, so why bother if the end result is so bad. Why bother with this whole enterprise of parenthood if in the end both parties are just going to muck it up? What is the point of all of this when at the end your kids can't stand you, you hate their choice of partner in life or choice of career, you can't be in the same room with them for more than 10 minutes before some verbal altercation breaks out, what is the point? Doesn't anyone concede at some point and say "this is not right, let's grow up and accept each other". You  may not like my choices and for sure I hate your choices, but can't we agree to disagree and try to get along like civilized people? 

My grandmother

Unlike the real Marie Stuart, I didn't grow up with four other Maries' and I certainly wasn't raised in the French court by the King and Queen of France with the dauphin (also my future husband) as my playmate. My upbringing was much more conventional than that, like a lot of children with busy parents, I was raised by my grandparents. It was the best childhood ever, I was doted on and loved like no other child. 


I met my grandmother as an elderly woman, a kind and generous woman who was prone to frayed nerves, nervousness and excessive worry. I saw her as a woman past her prime worrying about everyone and everything that she couldn't control, which I must admit became irritating to me as I got older. I have very little direct knowledge about her when she was young, as she never told me herself, but I know that it was a hard life. She, along with my grandfather were refugees from their homeland and were forced to make a home in a country that is not theirs. They dealt with it as people do but I know it must have been isolating at times to be away from all that you know from childhood. 


Today, I happened to speak about my grandmother with another close family member of mine, someone who knew my grandmother very well and she told me about a side of my grandmother that I couldn't have imagined or have ever seen while she was alive. Granny raised five boisterous children almost on her own for most of their childhoods (grandpa's job was far away from home and was only able to visit once a month or so), she was effectively a single mother when her husband was away. She was responsible for providing clothing, shelter, food and education to her five children-at a time where modern conveniences of have not yet reached her. She did this all without a dishwasher, washer or dryer or even a refrigerator. She had to wake up every morning and go to the market and purchase the food that she was to cook for that day only! And on top of that she worked at the government accounting office as an accountant as she was always brilliant at math. 


When she left her homeland, she left with her mother (my great-grandmother) and she helped her with the childcare, cooking and cleaning, but unfortunately she got sick-cancer of the stomach. So, on top of taking care of her children, she now took care of her sick mother and her mother was ill for one and a half years before she finally passed away. She made multiple trips to the hospital, now cooking for her dying mother as well, as she didn't trust hospital food. While all this was going on, she didn't breathe one word of hardship to her children, they went along happily in their lives as though nothing was wrong. They knew grandma was ill but not how ill. When her mother was dying and she was struggling with the grief and sadness of losing her beloved mother, she never confided in her children or anyone for that matter, she didn't want to burden them emotionally and her husband was away at work for most of this time. She made sure her children got what they needed and that they continued with their daily routine of school, home and studying. She wanted her children to have the best and to achieve that they must not neglect their studies, it was their only ticket out of poverty and a life of mediocrity. Granny was the most magnanimous, she required nothing in return for her dedication and hard work to her family and I am ashamed to say, she got very little in return. When I became cognizant of this, it was too late. 


After hearing her story, I was so touched and so ashamed at the same time. She was such a  strong a courageous woman. Life had given her so many hard knocks and yet, at the twilight of her life, she was still able to give me all her unconditional love. Sometimes when I come home from work and I am tired, the last thing I want to do is cook for my husband (or do anything for that matter), I secretly think how little we've come. After all this time, women are still slaves to their home and worse, we have to work now. At least in the 50's women's only job was in the home and she didn't have to work. Now, that's not possible. Anyone who thinks they can depend on a man to support them is a damn fool. 


Now, with all the modern conveniences of technology, I still complain from frustration and psychological fatigue. Or perhaps it's arrogance, like I am above all these housekeeping matters, but I am not. Before our conversation ended, my relative said, "it's very easy for housewives to be overlooked and be taken for granted." Truer words have never been said, there are millions of women that came before me, who slaved for their families their whole lives, asked for nothing in return, and they don't even get an ounce of recognition from their nearest and dearest, like it's their job to do what they do. 


So for this Easter celebration, I will go into it mindful of the story of my grandmother and countless other nameless and faceless women who sacrificed their all for their families and got no recognition for it. May God bless their souls.

Writer's block

I am having a serious writer's block, one that is not abating and with no end in sight. It's unlike me. I was always known-all through school, to be able to write about any random topic in the world at the drop of a dime. And now, as I am trying to eke out a coherent article about the gubernatorial elections, words and sentences fail me miserably. I feel as though all the English vocabulary where I can usually string coherent and articulate sentences together have taken a leave of absence. 


I wake up thinking everyday about writing about relevant current event topics and God knows there are a million to choose from but at this present moment in time, they all fail me. I feel as if a brick has been lodged in my head and it's there to stay. My critical searing and acerbic pen has abandoned me. I don't know what to do. How can this be when I want to be a professional writer? Professional writers have deadlines and they must adhere to them or else they are out of a job. And how are columnists like Maureen Dowd able to write interesting funny and relevant articles everyday, such as "texting is the new lipstick on the collar"-in reference to Tiger Woods. That's brilliant, hits the nail in the coffin. 


We are living in the most exciting time in history and I have nothing, a big fat zero. I am so incompetent as a writer. 

The longest non-sequitur in history

"Oil, of course, is a fungible commodity and they don't flag, you know, the molecules where, where it's going to where it's not but and in the, in the sense of the Congress today they know our very, very hungry domestic markets that need that oil first. So I believe that what Congress is going to do also is not to allow the export bans to such a degree that it's Americans who get stuck holding the bag without the energy source that is produced here, it's gotta flow into our domestic markets first."

If one were to venture a guess on who the above quote belongs to, we needn't look far. Why it's the Caribou Barbie herself, Sarah Palin from the great state of Alaska. I know that Palin-bashing is getting old and we have probably heard every joke there is on her, but this quote is just too good. "A fungible commodity" that doesn't "flag"and the "molecules", seriously, what the flip? Besides needing lessons in World History, she needs lessons in syntax and grammar too. Palin seems incapable of speaking in full complete sentences. She strings her sentences together in a bunch of non-sequiturs. In her book "Going Rogue" this is what she says about eating meat: "If God had not intended for us to eat animals, how come he made them out of meat?" ("Going Rogue," page 133)

It is amazing to see all these people coming out of the woodwork for her. People who appear to be intelligent, coherent and articulate and yet they choose this person as their 'leader'. 

 

A new routine

I am nearing the end of the second week of my assignment, I formed a new morning routine and I am quite pleased with it. I feel that my day is more productive and that I am doing more. I am of more purpose than someone who is just an at-home tech support. Having this job allows me to get out of the house for 8 hours and that's a good thing for my sanity. But when I return home, everything is still waiting for me. Dishes, cooking, cleaning, washing up...I guess somethings never change.

Things are coming together and I am feeling more sure of myself. Maybe it's the Lent and Easter season that is giving me a new jolt of life. I feel less confused and less depressed over things I can't control. Maybe there is some truth behind the winter blues. I am very much looking forward to spring and being happy and content. 

Had the talk.

I finally worked up the inclination to communicate with my other half. I took the hard route. I always avoided the things that required talking to other people because it is too hard. I always chose the path of least resistance when it came to people. Others see it as a weakness or inability to confront. It's neither, I just don't like dealing with people. People are too complex-in the wrong way, they read too much into everything and they personalize everything and they think it's all about them. Not everything is about you people! But nevertheless, I talked to my husband about what was on my mind, and true to form, he went into his 'fix it' mode again and trying to 'explain' to me why I felt the way I felt. And I politely stopped him and told him it's not about that and I would like him to be a impartial listener, pretend that I am a friend and your friend is spilling his guts to you. He understood and actually heeded the advice. It was strangely liberating. I suppose the old adage about giving someone a chance, they might surprise you is true. 

I told him that I want to be able to communicate 'housekeeping' matters to him because I really don't have anyone else to tell. I am not one to burden other people with the unsavory minutiae details of my household. It's not fair to the people in the house to have their private lives exposed, and my husband, always a private person appreciated the fact that I went to him mainly because I don't want to talk to others. We ended the conversation by him saying he was glad that I chose to communicate with him. It was a pleasant surprise and very in keeping with the theme of Lent, by inviting those you feel alienated from back into your heart and I felt I have done that with my husband. I don't want this invisible wall to come up between us and 10 years later, I won't be able to stand the sight of him because I have so much resentment. I can now understand how people get divorced after 30 years of marriage-resentment, simmering unresolved unsaid resentment, so much resentment that it blocks the whole room. And this is how it starts, with small what you believe are insignificant housekeeping matters. So, I want to avoid all that.

What's the moral of this story? Never write anyone off.

The work week begins

It's my first week back to work at a 9 to 5, in an office. It was surprisingly familiar, which I am a little worried by. The only thing different is that I am now married and not single anymore and when I get home, I don't just get to veg in front of the TV, I still have responsibilities to take care of, like cooking, cleaning up and washing up and by the end of the evening, I am totally shattered and ready to hit the hay.

It's quite nice, I have a lot time to myself and I do most of the work alone, which is very much preferred right now. I don't know if I accepted this job that is beneath my abilities and definitely beneath my pay level just to get away from what's at home?

Really?

I signed up with a temp agency not long ago, it's a good back up just in case any job comes up. Well, today I got a job doing some clerical work, and the pay is not great but it's something. Money we could really use. The pay is much lower than I am used to but at this juncture, I really have no choice. I didn't expect any whoops of joyous elation from my family but I did expect some expression of neutral feelings. But the feeling I get is me going to work will take me away from them. And that I am going to work for so little money. People have traveled greater distances to work for much much less money.

There were several appointments lined up for the weekday, which had to be re-scheduled, I was met with groans and not with understanding. When I found out I got the job, I immediately began to thaw some drumsticks so my husband would have lunch tomorrow, his lunch, not mine. So, you get the idea.

How did I get here? How did I begin to exist for convenience of others? I suppose I am partly to blame, since I blended my family, I was so preoccupied with the role of peacekeeper and I basically stopped really communicating with people unless I really had to because I am so exhausted being the peacekeeper. I have no energy left for anything else, and I am not even a very good peacekeeper. Good peacekeepers don't hate their role, they love it. And I hate my role.

Thus begs the million dollar question, how did I get here?

Recession and redundancy.

It's no wonder that since the dawn of time men and women spent their days separately and evenings together. It's God's way keeping men and women from literally killing each other. Job loss of a spouse and a sudden reduction of income is a huge source of strain on any family but imagine if you have to see your spouse at home all day, that's the worst part, more than the job loss itself I am surprised that World War III hasn't started yet. Men are not meant to stay home. I know there is a new trend of stay-at-home dads due to this being a man's recession, but it's a bad idea. Men do not have the patience nor fortitude to do domestic chores and child care 24/7. It's a bore, it will whittle down whatever masculinity they have left from losing their jobs and turn them into angry tyrants, which we will bear the brunt of. Women have no choice, we have done it since the dawn of man, and most women don't prefer it much but we deal with it, just like we deal with everything else not groan about it. It has to be done, chores don't get done on their own, so just grit your teeth and get on with it: try telling a man that. 


The old adage "familiarity breeds contempt" has never been more true in this situation. Familiarity means that you have to watch your husband do things his way in the home, may it be laundry, chores, dishwashing, cooking or even something as mundane as fixing the DVR player. You suddenly realize that that's not the way you do it and you think the way he does it so awkward or wrong. 


For instance, take mopping the floors, we have tiled floors so mopping is a cinch, just a bucket of hot water with some natural floor cleaner and a sponge mop, run it through a couple of times and it should be all set. But no, when my husband mops the floor, it looks like my home just experienced a torrential downpour. The floor is sopping wet for hours, where no one can step on because foot prints will be left behind. Not only that, he gets angry when anyone walks on his newly cleaned floors. I can't walk to my garage, I can't stroll in my yard, all because it requires me stepping on 'his' clean floors. It's totally maddening. When I challenge him on it, he says that it's how professionals do it. Well, the last time I checked, he has never been a janitor nor has he ever cleaned anyone's home for a living. It's total rubbish, but how do you tell your spouse that they way they mop the floors is ridiculous? It sounds ridiculous just saying it out loud to myself. 


So, what did I do? I told him that his floor mopping duties are over and that I will mop from now. I have just added one extra chore on my list-I have taken away the one chore that he has agreed to do, one that he does not find repulsive or beneath him to do-like cleaning the toilets. I think when times are better, I shall hire a cleaner. This will end my frustration and anger when it comes to household chores. No wonder experts say that chores are a huge source or argument in marriages, after money and in-laws. I now know why, the implications run deep, if not divided equitably or fairly, it leaves one person feeling like the maid. Though it was me who chose to mop floors, I would rather tire myself out with one more chore than hear his moaning about the stupid floors. I don't want to be made to feel that someone is doing me a huge favor by mopping the floors and I must not leave behind one spec of dust for at least a week. 


You will wonder why I just don't talk about this with him, you see, I come from the school of 'talking is pointless unless a settlement can be reached'. My husband is a good man and a good husband, but stubborn and set in his ways. Talking about it will only create more conflict, but what I am most afraid of is revealing to him how I really feel about everything. Because right now, I keep my contempt and anger very well hidden, by avoiding him during the day, pretending that he is at 'work' somewhere and not in my space. 

Having to be the adult

I revise my former statement about marriage being an exercise in self-restraint. Marriage is an exercise in self-restraint and a designated party who has to act like the adult in all situations. And guess who that person usually is? No, it's not the older spouse or the more experienced spouse (whatever that means). It's the wife that has to act the part of referee, peacemaker, negotiator, basically the adult in the marriage, and it gets mighty old in a hurry. 


You see, I hate people, I hate dealing with people and their grievances, problems, complaints, gripes etc. I can barely deal with my own problems. I don't like being the go-between, smoothing over arguments and disagreements between other people, most of whom are older than me. I don't know why I fixate on age so much, I know that age doesn't mean squat anymore but the conventional side of me expects older people to be mature and wiser. Sadly, that is not so in my life. I am constantly flabbergasted at how much more mature I am, or maybe I am just deluding myself, I don't know anymore. After all, I don't speak about this with anyone except this blog that no one reads. Sometimes I get so lost and mired in my own domestic situation that I don't know if what I am experiencing is real or 'normal' anymore. Does everyone feel like this? Can domestic life be this hard over things so small and insignificant? I know things are relative and what the other person experiences no matter how small to me is very significant to them, and I am not one to put down or slight another person's experience, but damn, this is tiring. 


When I blended my family, I knew there would be hairy spots but I didn't think it involved this much talking and negotiating and over things so small and insignificant. Every morning I tread lightly, waiting for the next argument and disagreement to ignite. 


It's funny how things you loved about someone so early on can be such a emotional liability when the ennui of daily life set in. I never minded my husband's fastidiousness, tidiness and and wanting things just so, in fact, I relished it, finally a guy who is not a slob and can tidy his things away. But now the very thing I relished is becoming a physical and psychological burden on me. Since I am ranting and no one will read this, let me just make a list for my own satisfaction.

• Laundry from the clothesline cannot be put on the bed because it was exposed to dust on the outside. Well, gee whiz, there's dust everywhere, why don't I wrap myself in plastic before I return to my bedroom. 
• "I know how to clean, but I just don't like to", well, then, I must LOVE LOVE LOVE chores because not only does he not like to do chores, he won't leave me to it, constantly critiquing and telling me where I've missed. And I realized lately that nothing has ignited my ire more than my husband telling me to do certain chores, though I know he doesn't mean to order me around, him saying it from his mouth, sounding like a direct order just ignites my inner rage, a rage that I have to try hard to calm. 

There are more, but if I go on, I would just be petty, going against the very point I am trying to make here. But do you see how small this stuff is? Maybe I have been shut away from reality too long. People say that couples today give up on relationships and marriages too easily, and they don't work through it and I agree, this is nothing to lose your mind over, but on a bad day, this can feel like the thing that will finally put me over the edge. 

Where did the day go?

Yesterday I rose early and started my day on track. I checked my vegetable garden, hung my clothes out to dry and tried to set about my day of business until I was interrupted again and again. It's one of those frustrating days that just needs to be over. 

As I am trying to clap out a coherent article, I kept hearing my name called to point of madness. Why is it when I am craving for solitude I get distracted the most? And by the time I wanted to sit down and do my writing, it was time to make dinner. It's no wonder all good writers are men. They have the luxury of sitting for hours without distraction from a hungry spouse or children or a pestering elderly relative. Women don't have the luxury of the self-indulgent life of a writer unless she is a spinster. Most of the good women writers we know were spinsters, Jane Austen, the Bronte sisters, George Eliot aka Mary Anne Evans was married but child free. One exception is Elizabeth Barrett Browning but she was ill and sickly and so she had the rare privilege of being tended to hand and foot by a doting husband thus without any domestic burdens. 

Every morning I wake up, it is as if I count down the time where I can be at my desk and writing. I wake up, brush my teeth, sometimes I have a quick shower then I go to the kitchen to make breakfast. But sometimes before I can start on breakfast, I might need to clear the dishwasher from the previous day and put the dishes left in the sink into dishwasher before I can even begin breakfast--and that could be a good 20 minutes. Oh, how I long for someone to just empty my dishwasher and put the dishes back where they belong. So, I make breakfast, eat breakfast--trying to eat fast, but not appear to be eating too fast, clear the dishes, put them in the dishwasher. And on a good day, that would be it, but usually there is something else waiting for me, laundry to fold, laundry to do or some other domestic chore that was assigned to me....by whom? Me? 

Sometimes I wonder if I have spoilt all the people in my life, if I have made their lives easy by making mine frustrating and difficult? Did I create the monster that is my life and now there's no way back.? Because if I change now, I would become the proverbial "bait and switch" wife and that's not who I am either.

Oh and the grand finale of yesterday, right after dinner and after I spent a few moments with my cat in the backyard and before I was to get started on my writing. There was a scheduled power outage due to equipment maintenance and the lights didn't come back on until 9 pm. It makes me wonder how human beings survived before the advent of electricity.  

But I did write my article, I finished it at 2 am. It wasn't any good and I probably won't ever publish it, but I wrote it. A writer needs discipline, they need to devote time to writing everyday, even if what is written is rubbish and can never be seen. Hemingway was the most disciplined writer, he always wrote standing up and he devoted a block of time everyday to write and even if he could only get out a few sentences--so be it. But that was Hemingway, who did what he pleased, when he pleased with no social repercussions--no, in fact he was celebrated for being just that, a bon vivant. As much as I wish that for myself, alas, it will never be, for the path I chose in life will not accommodate that. 

As it is in Heaven

The Lent season is upon us and for any Catholic, it's a time of reflection, reconciliation with God, reconciliation with lost loved ones and penance. And for some reason, during the past 2 weeks, the movies I watched were religious themed. And after attending Mass this morning, it seemed even more poignant.

"As it is in Heaven" is a Swedish film and directed by Kay Pollock. The scenery of Sweden is absolutely stunning. The story is about Daniel, a world famous conductor who has fallen ill with heart disease and can no longer conduct full orchestras and was forced into retirement. On a whim, he decides to return to the remote village in northern Sweden where he was born. He has no family nor any connections left there, but he decides to go back there anyways and bought the old elementary school house as his residence. People have long forgotten him and his family, due to heavy bullying for his musical talents, his mother moved them out of there when he was 7 years old and he has never returned since. His childhood dream was to use music to open people's hearts and after conducting for some of the most famous orchestras in the world, he failed to achieve this dream. It was all too commercial and not enough about music for him. The townspeople know that he's a big shot in the classical musical world and is flattered that he chose to come to this small village to retire--not knowing that he's really from there. The local pastor asks him to be the cantor (choir director) of their local church, he declined at first but reluctantly agrees in the end. The choir only has a measly 6 members but it soon grows.

Though this village is small, it's a microcosm of the larger world. You have the insecure town bully Arne, making fun of everyone (including his mentally challenged cousin and taunting him when he wets himself), the alcoholic and abusive husband Conny with his battered wife, Gabriella--which everyone watches her get beat up and does nothing, you have the humorless, self-righteous old spinster Siv, lecturing everyone on morality at every turn, the pastor who secretly stashes porn in his home and the repressed wife wife and you have Lena, the pretty young girl whom everyone envies or despises because she is kind hearted, lively, free spirited and beautiful. Her own townspeople watch her fall madly in love with a married doctor with two children in Stockholm, while they knew the whole time he was married with a family. No one even had the decency to tell her, the just watched her behave like a fool for two years until the charade was up and the doctor had to return home, and she is now branded a 'slut' by Siv. She thought these people were her friends. We all know someone like everyone described above in our lives. Just like the town tramp, there is one in every town. It was while conducting this small choir group Daniel achieved his boyhood dream of opening people's heart with music and he realized that all he had to do was go 'home' to achieve this elusive dream that evaded him his whole international career. It was the simple village life and the simple townspeople that inspired him to be his best. The people in the choir had none of the sophistication nor musical training of all the great musicians he worked with on the world stage but it was what he needed to achieve his dream.

The other two movies I revisited lately are "The End of the Affair" written by Graham Greene and "Brideshead Revisited" written by Evelyn Waugh, it takes a reluctant Catholic and an Anglican (who later converted to Catholicism) to express the core and essence of the Catholic faith. Since the the English Reformation, Catholics in England have dwindled to just a small minority. As a result, Catholics are viewed with curiosity and suspicion--this is especially poignant in Brideshead Revisited. The aristocratic Marchamain family's Catholic faith sticks out like a sore thumb in their social circle, they are viewed with suspicion especially because Lady Marchmain is so devout. The message of these two novels are once a Catholic, always a Catholic, no matter how much you resist it. When God's Grace visits you, you cannot and will not reject it because you know it's good and right. The Catholic religion unlike Protestantism, has a profound hold on the person, being baptized a Catholic, God will always find a way to bring you home, even if you are not ready to come home, you will follow because you know God is good.

"If I ever marry, I will marry an orphan"

One of my very favorite people said to me once, "if I ever marry, I will marry and orphan." She is still happily single, of her own choosing. She told me this in my teen years, when I was full of confusion and anger at the world around me. I had a great laugh then but it is now I realize the wisdom of her words.

Orphans have no parents, no extended family ergo no baggage that comes with family. The shrill mother-in-law, the gruff and grunting father-in-law, and the sleazy uncle, all of which you have to be nice and cordial to, even on your worst day--none of that exists. One has to be in a marriage of blended families to appreciate the difficulties that present themselves when two families are trying to merge. I feel that marriage is an exercise in self-restraint. Restraint to not say what you really want to say but you feel wronged and infringed upon if it never gets said. It's always a battle of who is going to be the adult? Me or the husband? Somehow it always falls on me to be the adult, at least that's my perception. And it's very difficult to have to be the adult all the time, in fact it's infuriating.

It's no wonder that men get extra benefits from the institution of marriage, they get family structure and security that a single man would not have, and to achieve this I have to be the adult in the relationship. I have to be the one to maintain peace. That's the small price I pay for the security of marriage and family.

Asperger's Syndrome, ADD, ADHD, Bi-polar, depression, are they just all code for "I am a jerk"?

It seems that every decade there is a new mental 'condition' that ails a generation of people. In the 80's and 90's there was Attention Deficit Disorder (ADD) and Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD) and medications such as Adderall and Ritalin were handed out like candy at the nurses station across American schools. It was prescribed to any kid (mostly boys) who couldn't sit through a class without jumping out of their chairs or felt the urge to poke the person next to him. And when the home room teacher had enough, she would send him to the nurses station and boom a diagnosis was given. He will most likely be ADD or ADHD, take your pick, which the school will most likely march the parents in and duly and solemnly inform them that their child has this attention deficit disorder and they need to be medicated. If the parents refuse to medicate them and the child's behavior is not corrected, they could be asked to leave the school and this is enough to scare parents into medicating their child.

The reasons for little kids not being able to sit still in their chairs are many, but the first one would obviously be that it's not natural for kids to sit so still for such long periods of time. This kind of routine takes disciplining from a young age, like students in Asia, they were raised to think that they must sit for long hours in school each day and play after school. But unfortunately in America, the state of our educational system is so broken that exercising any form of discipline could be construed as abuse by an over-protective or over-zealous parent.

Now there are adults (mostly men) who self-diagnose themselves as ADD or ADHD when they cut you off when you are talking, butt-in while you are talking or tell off color or rude jokes to an unwilling audience, all because they have ADD, they can't help themselves. Translation: I am a jerk and I have no manners, I just can't help it. Call the cops on me if you want.

Fast froward to the new millennium, the new 'diagnosis' for people who behave badly is Asperger's Syndrome. When the symptoms of this diagnosis became well known to people, which are: unable to read facial cues to determine someone's feelings emotion, obsessive fixation on a certain object, hyper-activity, unable to sit still, unable to make friends or form bonds with one's peers....etc. This sounds like half the population.

This is also the new excuse to be a jerk, because I have Asperger's Syndrome, so I don't realize that when I said you look like Dumbo, I would hurt your feelings.

or

I have an online porn addiction because I have Asperger's Syndrome, I have unhealthy fixations and obsessions with random objects not of my choosing.

or

I can't help banging on my key board when I type because I have Asperger's Syndrome and it makes my very hyper sometimes.

or

I am a rude pig because I have Asperger's Syndrome, I don't know how to look you in the eye or acknowledge that you are speaking to me and I don't care that you find my jokes crude or rude.

And depression? Come on, everyone is depressed sometimes, you wouldn't be human experiencing the human conditions if you weren't depressed. And Bi-polar? Isn't it just an excuse for erratic and irresponsible behavior that you don't want to own up to so you put a label on it and then the rest of the people have to excuse you?

*Note: I understand that mental illness can be very serious and harmful, what I am objecting to is the over-diagnosis of certain mental conditions and then drugging people, turning them into zombies, and at the same time provide a 'valid' excuse for bad behavior. Just because someone has a mental condition, it does not give them carte blanche to act as they please without regards or considerations to other people!

Right to end of life...a little macabre, not sure what to think about this

A story in the Daily Mail detailed a real 'last supper' for a man who was diagnosed with Motor Neurone Disease (MND), upon finding out about his illness he decided that he wanted to end his own life at the notorious Dignitas clinic in Switzerland. http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-1257547/The-supper-The-unbearably-haunting-picture-father-surrounded-loving-family-night-killed-Dignitas-clinic.html


I have a lot of conflict with regards to this matter and on paper it sounds totally logical that someone with a terminal illness should want to end their life with dignity and on their terms but the Catholic in me strongly objects to it, something just doesn't seem right about it. I don't think God meant for us to end our lives when we wish and how we wish no matter how undignified it may seem, God has a plan for everything we do. I can't explain it, but something deep inside of me knows that it is not how it's meant to be. I am sure it took a lot of courage for the daughters of this poor man to make all the arrangements with Dignitas clinic, and even risk criminal prosecution in Great Britain, but that doesn't make it right.


This is a slippery slope if laws regarding right to end life become lax and de-criminalized, how would it stop some vile person who just want their elderly loved ones dead so they could inherit the assets and do away giving long term care to someone. 


The whole idea of having your daughters arrange for your suicide at a suicide clinic in one the most picturesque countries in the world just seems a little macabre to me, too clinical and too businesslike for something that is final and can't be reversed. 

Maiden entry...

This is my maiden journey into the world of anonymous blogging.

I am blogging because I have a lot of feelings and thoughts in which I cannot share with those that I know and love. It's not that I fear judgment, I don't care about being judged about what I feel, I just don't want to deal with the fallout of discussing my feelings.

Talking 'about' things is overrated, it just creates hurt feelings, resentments and more confusion now that someone has spilled their guts, you begin to wonder if they felt that way all along and then you begin to re-evaluate every conversation you have ever had...it's too complicated and unnecessary. Whoever said to tell the whole honest 'truth' has done a disservice to mankind and should suffer for it. Truth is overrated, after all, perception is reality.

So a blog is a perfect forum for someone with too many thoughts but no one to tell. This is the place where I give all my confessions about everyone, anything and everything. This will include news clippings I read, every dumb new 'research' that comes out pretending to give empirical data on things you can't quantify, such as 'keys to a happy marriage'.

Finally, my alias, Marie Stuart, or Mary, Queen of Scots. Of all the historical figures, I somehow identify with her very much. I am not Scottish nor French, but she was caught up in the historical times she was born in and she tried her best to do what was best for France, Scotland and her faith while sometimes sacrificing herself in the process. No, I am not making myself to be a 'martyr' but I feel the same sort of conflict, doing the right thing by my family, my job and my obligations but not sacrificing myself in the process.

Oh and when the pedantic, erudite and pretentious side of myself comes out, be prepared for me to write long critical analysis of my favorite historical events, plays and books. I am a huge history buff, as my alias may point out.