Bonds of Matrimony

Hello again.

J and M got married! Hooray!
They picked the date, like, a week and a half ago, and they said their vows and did their thing yesterday. It was cute. J's parents brought her a bouquet and wrote "just married" on her car windows. The minister doing the ceremony was this tiny old guy that rambled for forty-five minutes, I swear. Which got to be hilarious, 'cos J started getting impatient and dancing in place. And I laughed, because I already have a special place reserved in Hell, I might as well earn it with a little more specific blasphemy.
Of course, the clothes were simple and casual, but appropriate. The little room we were in was set up real cute, real simple. No arch, but a carpet on the floor. They held the flowers between them, and the rings on each others' fingers, and M's stomach made a loud grumbly noise right at the beginning.
Overall, simple, beautiful, and adorable. The only problem now is that if it doesn't work out, I'm going to be the one to help hide the body. Or if it's J's body, I'll have to do it myself. (M is a necrophobe.)

The baby is three months old, now, and is hitting all his milestones perfectly. He watches us enter and leave the room, he gets distressed when he can't see anyone, he can get his hands to his mouth and suck on then with reasonable skill.... He curls on his side, and can scoot on his stomach across the crib, etc..

K has learned to take his diaper off. And does so with a frequency. But still doesn't tell us when he's pooped, and prefers to sit in a poopy diaper rather than let us change it. And, in fact, at one point, he pooped in the floor, because apparently, this is what toddlers do. I know this because when I looked it up, the first entry on helping getting poop out of the carpet wasn't, in fact, a pet site like I expected, but was the blog of a woman whose daughter had done the same thing. (The answer is hydrogen peroxide, by the way.)

I keep wondering how on earth parents without three adults around do it. I am always impressed by single parents, but I used to think that two would be enough, but even with two kids, it's just so handy to have six hands. From having someone to drop the one off to so that you can go handle the other one, to being able to stomp away and glare at the wall in the next room while someone else handles stuff, to when someone is screaming and you've still got to untwist the damn seatbelt because shit happens and that's how it goes.... Like, last night, we were trying to pile everyone into the car, and the baby was screaming for god knows why, and K was being annoying about getting into his seat, and J was getting mad 'cos the seatbelt strap had twisted into the seatbelt, and I couldn't get to the seatbelt buckle in addition to being unable to shut the baby up (because for some reason, all of us start losing our minds a little bit when the baby is crying. It's like the sims-- everyone in the general vicinity suddenly has a twenty point detractor from their mood bars when the baby is screaming. And because of that, we all get a little crankier than we were, and we're trying to get something done, and we just want everything to get quiet and still so we can finish.

And yet there are always still problems with the relationship itself, of course. You'd think with more people to fight, there'd be more fighting. I've been a referee once, because in the heat of the moment, a lot of things get lost in translation, and they start getting loud and angry without really understanding what's going on. That, and J's got rage issues, and I tend to duck out of the room when I detect them coming to the surface, because I know how I get when someone around me is angry, and I do not make anything any better.

Poor J, though. She's a very emotional person, in general, and they tend to manifest first as anger, and then as sadness. Even happiness, though I imagine that yesterday it was her nerves in general, and excitement and so forth, that eventually manifested and was why she got upset. 'cos, see, we were gonna have sushi (I spelled that as "suchy" first, because my hands hate me...) as a celebratory dinner, but almost no one wanted to come. Or, if they did want to come, they couldn't, etc., and it upset J rather a lot. I wound up cuddling her on the couch before she passed out. (we were also gonna do a celebratory drinks and game sorta thing, too, but she fell asleep way too early for that. Long morning, long day, with a lot of excitement and running around, I don't blame her. I passed out early-ish, too, but that's my tradition on Monday.) The day was good, but she kept trying to plan, and the plans kept getting harpooned, and it upset her. She does that.
And last week, when she was on her way out the door for work, the door started making a funny noise, and she still swears it was someone trying to get in, and she's requested being walked to her car every morning since then, with M's nightstick.
I'm not entirely sure how to handle the emotionality. I'm never sure if my cuddling her is enough of a sense of security, or if I should get M to do it while I go take M's spot in whatever task he has at hand (except when he's cleaning, because that's precisely what I do, 'cos I am sure that I'm better at housekeeping than I am at comforting an upset woman, and he's better at comforting his upset woman than cleaning.). A lot of the things when I express confusion, I get the same answer, which is "do what comes naturally". Still sucking at this. Out loud.

But I finally did get M to watch some Doctor Who with me. Old ass episodes, from like the seventies and stuff. He's being slowly won over to my British television, though J has remained steadfastly hooked to her Teen Dramas and stuff.

One thing that did happen a lot about the wedding was that when I told people at work, they asked me what was going to happen to me in our relationship. I think the clearest I could get on the matter was telling one girl that I couldn't very well marry them, I'd only been with them for four months (or five, or something.) and we'd get there when we got there. As things stand, I am still their girlfriend, we are all still in the same relationship, but now those two share a legal bond as well as an emotional and spiritual one. I can't seem to make it clear that legal marriage isn't my ultimate goal, and that their bond getting legal doesn't make our emotional one any lesser.

M did suggest "marrying" me in a year, but I don't want to share their anniversary (and possibly cheapen it somehow) and I'm not sure how I feel about marrying them even non-legal-like. It took me four years to get to that point with my ex, and having had my sense and reason forced back upon me, no thank you. We'll have to see.

Parenting by proxy. Whee. Infant needing attention, now. Wish my partners luck! They'll need it!

New House!

So, we’re all moved in. Yay!

And my transfer went smoothly, so I’ve been working for the last couple of days at my new department store, though I still have every plan in the world of going somewhere else. The money thing isn’t going too swell, but we’re working on it. I think it’s taking J and M a little more getting used to than me, ‘cos J still gets on craigslist to do random shopping, and they both get a little titchy when they see something they want and the money thing comes up. I don’t think they either of them notice. (Will now that I’ve written that. Or will when I post it.)

Tomorrow, the internet gets turned on, hopefully. J has an appointment to check on L, and his arrival. Which is imminent. Yay! And I work. And then I have to go to my mom’s house and collect shit, and need to get a hold of my aunt’s ex boyfriend thingie and get the dish strainer, and my pillows and… Stuff. Maybe the giant hamper-thingie in the back of Mom’s house. Everything in here is so crowded already, I might skip out on furniture.

We got the washer, today, too. Yay!

We’ve been watching a lot of TV, lately. It’s okay, I suppose. A bunch of movies that are fairly ancient that I haven’t seen, so that’s fun. Yippee.

So, M called me gorgeous the other day, and I contested this, because it annoyed me that he would bother calling me that. And so I said I wasn’t, but then he mentioned later an exercise he heard about, listing reasons one thinks one is attractive. And I had to explain that it wasn’t about that I think I’m ugly. It’s that I think my looks are the least important element of my attractiveness. I have nothing to do with my looks. I don’t put any work into it. With the occasional diet. But anyway, I don’t like the focus on the physical. The question occurred to me, though, the automatic compliment for a girl is about her looks. I mean, I guess you can’t get too much more of an impression, but hell, just wait for me to open my mouth, you’ll get a new one to go with.

But my point was, it’s like, “Hey, great tits.”
“Yes, they are great tits. Can I help you?”
“You have beautiful lips.”
“Yes. Ask me about the scar in them, that’s a good story.”
“I didn’t even notice.” Because it would be assumed that the scar is a bad thing, and as such should be dismissed. You know, like the event that caused it should be dismissed, too, I guess? I don’t know, I like scars. Although, some do have some stupid stories. Cat scratches, a trampoline spring in my case, fell down some stairs, but most of them are pretty good.

But my appearance is one element of a million that makes me attractive, and it’s the least important one to me, because… mostly because I don’t really get to look at me all that much. I think. I don’t know. Just not my favorite thing about me. I’m witty, intelligent, knowledgeable (These are all three different ways to be smart.), literate, thoughtful, a natural handiwoman, physically and mentally powerful, and I can engage in philosophical conversation, and even (especially) drunk, I’m pretty happy, if a little edgy, but that’s just paranoia and there’s nothing for that.

Anyway. K is pretty much used to our new place. J seems to be pretty miserable with the whole L thing, and we’re eagerly awaiting him. K has been a little too hyperactive, lately, because he can’t go outside due to weather suckage. Bloody rain, bloody hot, bloody humid. Two of three. So he’s been hopping and running and jumping and such, and just been so cute and annoying. Right now he’s standing on the end of the couch and falling onto his butt enthusiastically.

I’m going back to former home on Thursday, I suppose, Going to see family friend and grab stuff. J’s appointment and internet tomorrow, and stuff.

Slowly Making Our Way

Hello!
So, massive changes within the last.... since I updated.
First and most massively, we have gotten our prefab family dwelling! We've been moving our stuff into it (I'm trying to help, but my current home-thingie needs me around), and we're slowly developing somewhere to be in it, and we're working on it.
Second, the job situation (for MB, me, specifically) has gotten incredibly complicated because of some beaurocratic BS that I should have known or at least figured, and is in the f*cking way. (Due to my glee in using swear words, but my intentions of making this a 'family oriented' blog, I am editing my words. Sort of. Adults still know, kids will only know if they've heard it before.)

So, story of moving into the prefab trailer first, right?
'cos last week, we were supposed to move in. Last weekend, to be specific, we were supposed to get the keys Friday to one of two places, and we were supposed to be making steady progress with shuffling stuff over.
Now, M has the week off, so really, we were supposed to be done by now.
Unfortunately, one of the places has something wrong with it (we're not sure what) and that would prevent it from being rented for the next month, and I'm not sure what was up with the other one, either. There was a third that came up, and that one was supposed to have been being painted, except that the person that was supposed to be painting it was d*cking around and not getting it done, for whatever reason.
We got sick of waiting, and so M went in and told the people from whom we were to be renting, and said, "PLEASE? J is due any day, now, and we would really like to be established before that happens." And then they asked us if we could cope with previous renter's damage, and we looked, and we can, so now we have the place, and we've already got most of J's and my stuff in (I do have a few items left), but with J being as massively pregnant as she is, she can't move stuff (we won't let her.) and M is pretty much on his own on that matter, because my effin' job crap is being awful.

Okay, that was the first bit of that story.
The second bit is that, while we were viewing the house, we noticed that there isn't a turn-off valve on the toilet.
M mentioned wanting a water-saver.
I decided to install the water-saver, despite the sentence that comes before the fact that M  wanted a water-saver.
I had a moment, there. I did. Just. Brain took a vacation. Or maybe I thought I could handle it. I'm not sure. Either way, it was stupid, I am an idiot.

First, I broke the thingie I was supposed to be replacing.
Then I was trying to figure out how to replace the thingie I broke.
And I was failing horribly. And guessing. And that was bad.
And then we figured, since it's broken, and we can't find the shut-off, we might as fscking well, right?
And then forty days and forty nights of rain broke loose, right?
I flooded the bathroom, the hallway, the entry to the kids' room, and was making way to the living room, before we managed to screw the thing on effing crooked, right?
And so I got it to where at least it was a slow trickle, rather than an attempt to drown everyone (I ruined two phones, neither of which were mine.)  and M and a friend of his/ours helping us move went to find the valve.
Which, by the way, is about fifty feet from our unit.

So, we got it fixed. After.... Eh. Two hours of uncontrolled water flow, maybe three, maybe even four, it felt like days....

It was horrible.
And I have learned my lesson.

Anyway. We have a place, now. Yay! I have sworn not to break the other toilet.
We took our first shower in there, and that wasn't bad at all, and the cuddling was rather wonderful, and I liked sleeping there, except that I was in the middle of an asthma attack that I did not know about until after both of my mates complained that I had disturbed them in their moments of wakefulness (which reminds me, totally need another treatment, wtf.), and I liked the place. I am trying to transition to calling it home. I am mostly succeeding.

K didn't seem to mind at all that that's where we live, now. He did seem to have a problem wrapping his brain around it, but there are so many things I can think of that indicate trouble, and he displayed none of them. He did ask to go home, but he seemed pretty okay with the place being his new home.

Reminds me-- I wasn't with my mates, weekend before last, and the kids asked where I was. That's such a warm fuzzy feeling. "Where [MB]?"

So. We made it through what I thought of as a major distaster caused directly by my actions caused directly by neglect to attention (as I called it a while back), and I've been forgiven (Yay for exhaustion-induced delirium?), and I'm still welcome there. This is heartwarming and reassuring and a bunch of other warm fuzzy words.

I don't get to live there until next Wednesday, though. I was supposed to give at least a week's written notice to work to use them as a reference, and I failed to do so. Because I figured the rumor to want to transfer was enough. I was wrong. In fact, I thought that since I was transferring, it wouldn't count as quitting.

I'm still trying to decide if I want to call out on Friday.

Thanks for reading!
-MB

First Steps

Confirmed location to move. It's feeling like that moment at the top of the big hill to start off the roller coaster. Hanging onto my seat and lungs filled to scream, now.
And closet empty and I need to figure out how to get all my gigantic amounts of crap into my tiny car and try not to hyperventilate.
And change my address. I already called to transfer the job place thing. And explained to baby brother. And stuff.
Oh boy.