As the title says, I need to update way more often. There is way too much to catch up on without creating a wall of text.
First there was the “I’m surprised we didn’t kill each other” move into the new house. Immediately followed by the “why did you spend so damn much money on two children who won’t even remember it?” Christmas. Things calmed down a bit (by “things” I don’t mean her spending) through the New Year. Then came the news that there will be a third child coming soon, and I went into a crazy spiral of depression when I realized that meant I was going to have to buy, and then drive, a mini-van.
Ok, we’re going to take a break here. I know most of you must be saying “you found out you’re going to have a third kid, and all you can think about is a van?” To which my reply is “stop talking to your computer screen, you look like a crazy.” Seriously though, yes and no. A lot of thoughts and emotions ran through my head, ranging from “Why, God, Why me?” to “I should start a blog called ‘My Damn Kids’.” and then straight back to “Seriously, why me?”
Back to the show.
Now don’t get me wrong, children are a blessing, and I love the ones I have, and all that other sappy blah blah. I do love my kids, and for as much as I don’t like my wife, I still love her more than anything, but a third kid is WAY outside of the scope of things that we’d ever planned for.
We just bought a house with just enough rooms for each of the kids to have a room, and I was able to have a man-cave, but now the man cave is gone.
Our budget was being worked that (if my wife didn’t have a deep rooted spending problem) we would be able to start saving; but now between the added expense of another child, and my damn wife’s spending addiction, we’ll probably be in debt up to our eyeballs.
Both of our cars were paid off, and while small, they could both fit two children, however, neither can fit a third. So that brings us to my mini-van fueled depression, AND the addition of a car payment, which only piles on to the eyeball high debt we’ll soon be facing.
Oh, and before anyone starts on the whole “You know what causes that, right?” Joke about pregnancy: 1)Seriously, stop talking to your computer 2) She was on the pill, and 3) Since my son’s conception, we have had a 33.3% rate of sex ending up in pregnancy. I’ll let that sink in for a moment. For those not good at math, that is a one out of every three times percentage, translating to a whopping grand total of 9 times that we’ve been “intimate” since 2009. So, as a man, even if someone had come to me in a vision and said “If you have this sex, the Anti-Christ will be conceived, and the apocalypse will be ushered in.” My response to them would have been “Doesn’t matter, had sex.”
I know it’s been a while since I’ve posted, and that’s a terrible way to try to build a successful blog. It also doesn’t mean that there hasn’t been any insanity to blog about… But I’ll play catch-up later. I’m seeing red right now because my damn wife has absolutely zero grasp on financial responsibility. Example: Today is pay day. Our town has three indoor shopping malls. One of them is 9 miles from our home. One is 16 miles away. And the other is 30 miles away. They all have the same stores. So which one did my damn wife just fill up her gas tank to drive to, then subsequently waste money at? That’s right ladies and gentlemen, the one that is 30 miles away. And that’s not just 30 miles round trip, no, that’s 30 miles each way. So, you know, hooray for being absolutely wasteful.
Ok, since I’m updating this during weekdays, it looks like you get a two-for-one in this post.
Last night, I came home from work, and immediately noticed something was off. It was the smell of bleach… but, knowing my wife as well as I do, I didn’t even have to look around to see if anything had been cleaned with bleach, I just knew that it hadn’t. So I look in the living room, there’s my wife, watching some TV show on netflix, not even paying attention to the one crying child in front of her… Wait… one? I definitely have two children. So I walk toward my bedroom, looking for my missing child that my damn wife seems to have forgotten about. Of course, when I arrive in the bedroom my son has the spray bottle of bleach cleaner, and is spraying it all over the bathroom. Add to that the fact that the bedroom was destroyed, clothes, blankets, decorations, lotion, drawers all of these things were everywhere. And by everywhere, I mean looked as if they’d all been piled on top of a grenade, then the explosion sent the items flying to all corners of the room. But hey, the good news is that my damn wife now knows the fate of Dr. McSexy on her favorite soap opera…
And then the morning comes.
Remember the $58.80 spent on used clothes that she claimed were for the kids? I do. Turns out that “for the kids” meant “for my damn wife” and they were all loaded into our already full closet. So this morning I’m getting ready for work, when, while pulling a pair of pants off of a hanger, the entire closet shelf on her side collapses under the weight of used clothes. So after shrugging a metric ton of clothes off of my head, I dug my way out of the pile on the floor, triumphantly emerging from the closet of doom with my work pants in tact. But, my damn wife insists that she doesn’t have enough clothes and still needs to buy more.
Hopefully all of my posts won’t be as long as the home buying one. I plan to make these short and to the point as they happen.
Prime example: I’m at work, and went out to my car on my lunch break. There is a nail in the front driver’s side tire. A new tire for my car is going to cost about $60. New tire being an emergency necessity, I quickly checked the bank account to make sure we’d still be in budget if I spend the $60. Turns out my wife just spend $58.80 on used clothes. She defends it by saying that most of it was clothes for the kids, which would make sense, if the the kids needed clothes. But as it stands, we could clothe an African nation-state with the amount of clothes she’s bought for our kids, and probably fund their army with the amount she’s spent on them.
A $60 tire won’t put us in the poor house, but we have emergency money set aside for a reason… that reason being emergencies. Definitely not for my damn wife to go on shopping sprees.
Ok, so I’ve been considering doing this for quite a while. Mostly as a means to vent using the thinly veiled anonymity of the internet. As the title suggests, this will me a blog entirely about my damn wife, and the ridiculous shit that she does. Also, there might be some bad language. I probably should have stated that before typing shit in the previous sentence. Oh well. Welcome to my blog, enjoy your stay, and I promise you that if the remaining years are anything like the first few, you will be thoroughly entertained.