Part of the reason we moved in together was so that, if something were to happen to one of us, the other would be able to hold down the fort.
You knew I had kids. You knew it would be hard. You knew my kids, specifically my son, is loud. I told you, and checked with you multiple times. You said you’ be ok. You were wrong. Ok – I get that. People make mistakes. I’ve been trying to help you out here. I try, as much as I possibly can, to keep them quiet from 7:30 PM (when they go to bed) until 10:20 in the morning (when you go to work). They wake up at 6:30, every day. So, for four hours, they have to be dead silent, in their room; or go downstairs and stay dead silent there. Why do I say “dead silent”? Because if they so much as whisper, or move a toy too loudly, or heaven forbid they activate one of their musical toys, you throw a hissy fit.
Yes, a hissy fit. You make large, over-acted movements, heavy sighs, and if I don’t immediately get up and go remind them that they have to be silent, you get up and start stomping around, throwing down the toilet seat, slamming the drawers to the dresser, and finally grabbing pillows and cclencching them tightly over your head.
That behaviour is unacceptable. You are older than me, and I date older women because, generally, they are more mature. What the hell happened? Since when is it OK for a grown woman, who is going to be 30 in a few years, to pitch a fit? My son doesn’t even get away with that behaviour. He’s 4.
Now, you want to talk about why Tarl and Megan are living with us? Ok. Let’s talk. 1.) If Tarl hadn’t moved in with us, we would have been out of food over a week ago. Not just running on bare cabinets. No, COMPLETELY OUT OF FOOD. Yes, it sucks that you can’t run around naked in the house – believe me, I prefer you naked. Misery aside, you’d be a lot more cranky without food. 2.) They are not unpleasant. They have both been working their asses off to get you to like them. What is the problem, exactly? Why do you dislike them so much? Is it solely because of the inconvenience caused by having them here? Maybe it’s beause she’s 17, and looks like it, and that makes you uncomfortable. I don’t know, and quite frankly, I wish you’d communicate your issues so that we can start being happy again
And let’s talk about the kids for a second. I don’t hate your guniea pigs, but I do not like them. To me, they seem useless. They don’t provide joy, they smell, they’re not terribly intelligent, and they are not comforting. We are both allergic to them, and they cost a significant amount of money every month. Don’t get me wrong, I would never hurt them, and I have a love for all animals, so i feel of kindred spirit. Regardless of how I feel, I try to help you with them all I can. I refill that damn broken water bottle 3 times a day, I help clean their cage when I see you haven’t had the time/energy. I feed them, think about buying them treats, andd I know they make you happy, so I do my best to ensure that they are happy, and by proxy, you are happy. I rarely criticise them, and I try to treat them well. I even encourage you to get new ones.
Now, let’s look at my kids. You criticise them on a daily basis, and have no respect for them. You curse in front of them, and demonstrate bad behaviours that I have asked you to stop, like throwing fits. Yes, I understand: You didn’t want children, but for fuck’s sakes – You knew I had them. It’s not like it was a secret that I hid from you. I exposed you to the children as much as possible. I asked you into my home, and I shared my life with you. You disdain them, and in doing so, you disdain me.
And what was with that bullshit this morning? Since when can you not apologize? That’s a load of crap. In case you don’t recall, that was one of the major issues with Sara. I hate that with a passion. I’ve also told you, I don’t know how many times, that physically yelling at me doesn’t make things better. It makes them worse. But, it doesn’t seem that you are listening to me anymore. How do I know, because I’ve already told you other things 3 or 4 times, like when Sara paid us Childcare.
I’m going to lose everything I have in less than two weeks because I trusted you. We had a plan: If either of us became unable to work, the other could fill in. Whatever. Now I’m going to be stuck in a shelter, the kids are going to their Mother’s or CPS, my cat is probably going to be put down, and I don’t know what you plan to do.
I’m angry beyond all measure right now. You don’t understand. I’m sick of the complaining, the bitching, the whining. We all have it bad. So please, shut the hell up. Go find a fuck buddy and make yourself feel better. It’s not like you put out to me anymore anyways. “Kids aren’t sexy.” Yeah, well bitchy, whiny women aren’t sexy.
You’re already looking for someone to come save you. I’d like you to stay, but us trying to kill each other with words isn’t going to help things. Can we try actually talking, for once? I’m tired of fighting, and tension.
