I suppose it could be worse

There's more than a few things that I just choose to not write about here. I don't discuss any fights that Kevin and I have because quite frankly, they're none of your business. And I don't talk about work because I happen to actually like my job and would like to keep it. And also, I would have to kill all of you if I tell you too much about the people who pay me. And for the most part, I do not talk about the dramas in my family, because these days they are small blips on the radar (and also, I'm pretty sure that my mom is reading this on occasion. Hi Mom!)

But today I finally reached the point where I simply Do Not Care about breaking that last rule a little bit because people, my father-in-law has reached new levels of assholery and therefore, I must rage about it.

Asshole and I have never had a great relationship. Not for lack of trying on my part; I'm a big believer in family and spending time together so I made sure that we made an effort to see them on a regular basis. We spent Christmas Eves with them, remembered to celebrate birthdays and other holidays with them on occasion. I didn't really understand why Kevin was always dragging his feet about calling them. But I understood after a few times with them.

The crux of the matter is that Asshole is the king of guilt throwing and passive-aggressive zingers. And man, he pissed me off every time we got together with them. His more stellar moments include:

-Neglected to invite his only son to Christmas Eve dinner with the rest of the family until we called to arrange something. He did invite us after that, and then right after he arrived hollered out to his sister "Hey J, tell Melinda about that diet you're on!" (The implication being that maybe the diet would work for me too.)
-Declared during another family gathering (with his side of the family) that the only reason he didn't get into UCLA was "because it was the 60's and affirmative action was starting and he wasn't a chink so he didn't get in". What. The FUCK.
-Became one of only two major stressors around the wedding due to his obesession with making us feel guilty for asking for money AFTER HE TOLD US TO TELL HIM WHAT WE NEEDED so he could write a check. Also, he did not come to the unrehersal dinner (and I suspect he blew us off so he could go to an SDSU alumni dinner, but that has not yet been proven).
-Tried to guilt us into inviting Kevin's cousins to the wedding...two weeks beforehand.
-Had the nerve to lecture us about his sisters "not getting enough face time" with us at the wedding....when his sisters left the wedding without saying anything to us, before dinner was served and without even waving hello to me.
-Asked Kevin if I didn't like him while they were out golfing. Oh, and then his wife sent a letter to my (totally awesome) mother-in-law to say that she didn't think I liked HER (the second wife). And repeatedly both Asshole and his wife has told people they see Kevin less now than they did when he lived in Sacramento (not true).

So basically, Kevin's father's side of the family seems to think that I am an evil bitch who has stolen Kevin away from his family. Kevin said it perfectly when he told his mom during one of our discussions about this mess that he's still the golden boy, the only son of the only son, and where it used to be Kevin's mom turning him away from them, now it's me. Well fuck them very much is what I have to say about that, because Asshole went way too far today.

See, The Procedure is happening on Friday, and Kevin told his dad about it when they went golfing a couple weeks ago. His only response then was that his wife had been hoping Kevin would change his mind about not having kids so that she'd have grandkids (never mind the fact that Kevin and I agreed long ago that if the world tuned upside down and we became parents, any child of ours would never be left alone with them). Then today, Asshole calls Kevin to see if he had a ride to The Procedure, because he "didn't want Melinda to have to miss any work." This from the same man who did not call once to offer to help out when I broke my wrist, despite the fact that he is home all day and Kevin was missing work left and right to take me to all of my doctor's appointments. Apprently, he thinks I'm such a cold hearted bitch that I won't even give my husband a ride to the doctor on the day his balls will be disabled.

AND THEN! Then he went on to mention that "some people go through okay but some people end up swollen like balloons." Way to be supportive, DAD. Sheeit. Kevin figures Asshole's just trying to psyche him out so he won't destroy his glorious family's bloodline and name from dying out. Well, the joke's on him because instead of scaring Kevin away from it, he just gave us more reasons for not passing on those genes.

I'm sure that Asshole blames me for Kevin getting a vasectomy, just like I'm sure he blames me for his son not wanting to spend time around him. Little does he know that I'm the one who reminds his son to call him, who makes sure that we get together for holidays, who sends the Christmas cards. And for some reason, they don't seem to realize that treating his wife like crap is really not going to make Kevin want to spend copious amounts of time with them.

But I'm done. I'm done convincing Kevin to keep in touch with them; he's a grown man and I'm not going to force him to stay in touch with someone who makes him cringe and swear every time he talks to him, and I certainly don't feel like making an effort to hang out with people I can only tolerate if I'm drinking.

Fuck it. We are blessed with so many family members who love us and support us and who we have fun with. My mother-in-law is beyond super fantastic, and my aunts and uncles have welcomed Kevin with open arms. Life is too short for me to keep trying to win these people over, and they're just not worth it.

Man, it's hard being a grown-up.

One year down, 59 to go

One year ago....

This:



Plus this:



Became this:



Happy anniversary, Hubben. Can't wait to see what comes next. (Here's hoping it involves less injuries!)

Love, Woompty

And another thing

We had to upgrade our insurance this year, so as to have a lower deductible, lower out of pocket expenses and lower maximum out of pocket limits. It now costs a gatrillion dollars out of Kevin's paycheck every month, but I've got half a gatrillion dollars coming out of my paycheck to cover the rather large flexible spending account we also had to open up.

We've got good reasons for it, what with all the elective surgeries going on around here. Before I have surgery this summer, Kevin's going to be going under the knife (laser?) himself. I've been told by men who have had it done not to call it "getting fixed", so we'll just call it The Procedure.

Yes, Kevin is going to be having that procedure, the one which will ensure that we will never spawn the children that people keep telling me we should have.

No, no we should not.

Don't get me wrong, I love kids. Other people's kids. I love to snuggle them and read them stories and chase them around the park....and then hand them back to their parents and go home to take a nap. And don't even get me started on the whole pregnancy thing. THAT just doesn't seem to be at all comfortable and let me tell you, none of you want to hear me whine for 9 months about how much everything sucks.

Anyway, we knew he was going to have to have The Procedure done before June, because that's when I anticipate my surgeon pulling me off my birth control pills (he takes his patients off for the month before and the month after so as to help prevent clots and pulmonary emoblism, aka death). And after the surgery I'll be flooded with all the hormones currently stashed in various parts of my padding, causing my fertility to temporarily go TO THE MOON, ALICE, which means that either he gets The Procedure done or we don't have sex for a year. (Guess which one he picked?)

He was a little shocked to find out that it's usually an in-office procedure rather than something that takes place in a gorgeous new surgery center with lots of nice nurses and pain meds like the place I had my wrist surgery, but I think he's gotten over it. (He's probably also tired of me constantly reminding him to get it set up, as I have been doing for six months. But! He finally made the appointment for his consult so kudos to him.) I have promised to be a good nurse maid and have already started repeating my new mantra:

I have an abnormally high pain tolerance. Kevin has a low pain tolerance.

(Remembering that should go a long way in helping me be nicer to him rather than telling him to buck up, buddy.)

So we're hoping for The Procedure to happen mid-late April, which will give up plenty of time to stock up on frozen peas and jock straps. Now if I can just keep him away from WebMd and Dr. Google, it'll all be fine.