Your Brother Is Not A Mourning Person

, , , , | Related | October 19, 2017

(I’m folding laundry and putting it away quietly while my daughter naps in her crib. I find a shirt that, while clean, still smells like my husband, who passed away two months ago. I had thought that I would never smell him or his work again, as I had washed the last shirt he wore accidentally, so I start crying. While I’m doing so, my brother barges into the room I share with my daughter and sister.)

Brother: *barges in* “I want some of your soda— Why are you crying?”

Me: “Shh! [Daughter] is sleeping! And I’m crying because I found one of [Husband]’s shirts that still smells like him, and no, you can’t have any of my soda!”

Brother: “You’re still crying over him? It’s been two months!

Me: “That doesn’t matter. It hurts like h***, and you know it does! Now leave; she’s sleeping.”

Brother: “Oh, my God. It’s been two months; you should be over it by now!”

Me: “Over it? Seven years together, a marriage, and a child together… and after two months, you think I should be over it?”

Brother: “Uh, yeah.”

(He wouldn’t leave until I started throwing clothing at him while crying, effectively waking my daughter up, who sat on my lap while I cried. I folded the shirt up and put it in with the rest of my husband’s clothing, so that whenever I feel like it, I can take it out and hold it. My brother then tried to get me in trouble, but my parents and uncle took my side. Because of how he reacted to my mourning, I have yet to cry in front of another family member, fearing the same reaction.)

Putting Those Texts Into Context

, , , | Romantic | October 2, 2017

(My partner’s brother got married about two months ago.)

Partner: “His texts all have an undertone of happy to them! He’s clearly still in the newlywed phase!”

Me: *because I’m a terrible person* “Would you say they have an… afterglow?”

Partner: “Ew! No! My brother is a priest! He has a Master’s degree in the New Testament!”

Me: “That doesn’t make him a priest, you know. He needed that for the private school he works at.”

Partner: “Lalalala, not listening! My brother is a priest and no one can convince me otherwise!”

Looks Like The Cat’s Out Of The Bag

, , , | Romantic | September 3, 2017

(Our current apartment is too small to section off “Cat Free Zones” for my husband’s allergies, so [Cat] has been living with my parents until recently. He is only seven years old, but he had an undiagnosed health condition that, until two weeks ago, was completely asymptomatic. After an emergency vet appointment, fluids, drugs, and a terminal diagnosis, I pack him up and take him straight back to the apartment with me anyway, so we can do the best we can in his final days, because my parents aren’t able to give him the attention he needs. He has gone from a fat 12 lbs to a bony 8.5 lbs, and he has recently been refusing food completely [resulting in the dehydration that brought us to the vet for the emergency visit]. The vet gives me formulated high-calorie canned food to feed him, which he doesn’t like, but with trial and error over a few days, I finally come up with a routine that gets him to eat on a regular basis, and his strength has been improving a lot. Soon, I have my first double-shift day at work, leaving my husband to try and cope with my cat’s newfound finicky eating habits and schedule. This is the conversation we have when I check in during my break:)

Me: “How are my boys? Did [Cat] have dinner?”

Husband: “No, he won’t eat it.”

Me: “What did you give him?”

Husband: “A quarter of a can of formula, and a teaspoon of tuna.”

Me: “Did you microwave it?”

Husband: “Yes”

Me: “How long?”

Husband: “Like ten seconds.”

Me: “That’s too hot. Did you blow on it to cool it down?”

Husband: “Umm… yes.”

Me:*tsk, liar* Did you add a little bit of water to make it like gravy?”

Husband: “Yes.”

Me: “Okay, he probably doesn’t want tuna because he had tuna for breakfast. There’s some shredded pork in the fridge.”

Husband: “Right….”

Me: “And make sure you only microwave it for six seconds, so it doesn’t get too hot–“

Husband: “Okay, got it–“

Me: “And you have to watch him eat it, because if you aren’t watching him he’ll follow you out of the room instead–“

Husband: “Okay….”

Me: “And pet his head and tell him he’s a good boy.”

Husband: “Sure.”

Me: “And you have to sing ‘If I Had Words’ to him and do a dance around the living room while the barnyard animals watch.”

Husband: “…wait, what?”

Me: “I’m kidding. If he doesn’t eat the pork I’ll try when I get home; don’t worry about it.”

Husband: “I changed my mind; I don’t want kids. You are literally the most annoying mother on the planet.”

Making A Complete Boob Of Himself

, , , , | Romantic | September 1, 2017

(My husband and I are sitting at home on a Sunday afternoon. I haven’t been feeling well.)

Me: “Ugh. My boobs are sore.”

Husband: “Why?”

Me: “I don’t know. They just are; they’re really swollen.”

Husband: “Hmm. Maybe you should go put on a bra.”

Me: “…”

Husband: “What?! That’s why I bought you comfortable ones…”

Me: “That’s… not how that works…”

(Twelve years together, and apparently I have taught him nothing.)

Karma Strikes, Not With A Whimper…

, , , , , | Romantic | August 31, 2017

(My husband and I are relaxing at home, when he snaps shut the book he was reading. Our cat leaps about a foot in the air and looks around with eyes wide. She has a tendency to get easily spooked.)

Me: “Haha, poor little dum-dum. Awww. Were you scared? You’re way too anxious. You need to chill out.”

(I pet her to comfort her, and then walk over to get myself a drink from a glass. As I’m taking a sip, the doorbell rings, and I nearly jump out of my skin, my arm jerking reflexively and tossing the entire glass of water into my own face.)

Husband: *stifling laughter and petting our cat* “And that’s what we call karma, [Cat].”

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