Happy Anniversary

After I had been blogging for awhile I noticed two things.  1) I no longer get invited to family reunions and 2) People begin conversations with “I sort of don’t want to tell you this because I know you are going to write about it.”  Even my doctor who recommended I start using a netti pot prefaced his treatment plan with this phrase.  This sort of makes me wonder if he will tell me if I catch cancer or AIDS. 

Last week I had to go get a “wellness/med check.” What should have been a simple, mundane task just veered off onto the road of wow-Erin-shut-the-fuck-up and now I am going to go distract myself and pretend that conversation never happened by setting up the tent in the backyard for the kids to play a game called “camping”.  Here is how the conversation went:

Me:  Hi, this is Erin Moroni and I need to make an appointment with anyone other than the one doctor I don’t like to get my brain tamers checked so I can get a refill.

Sweet Lady:  Hi Erin, well we have an opening this afternoon, would that work?

Me:  Unfortunately no, my kid woke up barfing.  It was like an exorcism.  Come to think of it, she is probably the one I should be bringing in.

Sweet Lady:  So, do you want her to have that appointment?

Me:  Nah, she will be fine.  What is tomorrow like?

Sweet Lady:  How about 10:00?

Me:  That would be lovely.

Sweet Lady:  And what are we checking?

Me:  Well, I have been taking my anti-anxiety medicine religiously for 3 years but I cut it in half so I can make them last twice as long, sort of like a BOGO deal and I am wondering if that is okay.  Then one night when Mike and I were out to dinner with Dr. __________ and his wife, Mike got up to pee and I leaned over and asked them if there were sexual side effects to my medicine because I should receive an Oscar for my bedtime performances lately.  And they started laughing but, it wasn’t really that funny because I am a selfish lover and so he called in something else to help fix that problem.  However, I only remember to take that occasionally.  Which sort of makes me wonder why I am taking birth control in the first place since I never feel like having sex, but the good news is I am not stressed about it because of my anti-anxiety medication.  It is a vicious, unrelenting cycle I tell you.

Sweet Lady:  Um well, the doctor should be able to address all your concerns tomorrow.

Me:  Thank you. 

Annnnyhow, Mike and I just returned from San Francisco to celebrate our anniversary.  On the way to the airport Mike reached over and touched my hand and said “We will be flying home on the 17th which is our anniversary!”  And I was like “Um Mike that was your anniversary with your ex-wife.  Our anniversary is the 19th.”  And Mike was like “Fuck, you are totally right!”  Yeah.  I know.  I usually am.  Then I started laughing hysterically because I am not a sentimental person. 

I wouldn’t say that Mike is necessarily a better human being than me but he sort of is.  Take for instance his kidney or lack thereof.  Years ago Mike gave his kidney to his father, not just for a gag gift but because his dad was dying and desperately needed it.  This is even nicer than helping someone move.  Now, if this were me, I would throw the “Hi, I gave away my fucking kidney which therefore sanctions me with impenetrable immunity as being ‘right’ for the rest of my life.  Anything else you want to add about me not changing the toilet paper roll you soulless bitch?” card anytime we argued about anything.  But he has never once done that.

Now don’t get me wrong, there are plenty of things that bug me about Mike.  One time I asked Mike’s mom what happened in his childhood that made him hate human touch and dogs.  She stared thoughtfully into the distance and said “Hmmmm, well let’s see, Bob (Mike’s brother) was the one that liked to start fires but I don’t remember what Sport’s issues were.  He was gone all the time.”  Following this chilling conversation I asked Mike why he picked me to marry and he mumbled “I really don’t know; you make me feel calm.”  This is the opposite emotion I would expect to evoke based on the following factual statements I have made:

*I am having a wedding in our backyard in 2 months.  It is going to be expensive.

*I am going to need you to swing by Reptile Jungle and pick up our new pet lizard

*I bought a Shih Tzu at the mall.  I think she has special needs and a lazy eye.

*I would rather stab myself than have dinner with our accountants.

*I want the Christmas lights up today.  Yes.  I realize it is thirty below. 

*I am getting my boobs done next Thursday, can you drive me?

*I touched up the walls today.  I had no idea some paint is shiny.  Home Depot is stupid.

*I hit the garage.

*I hit the garage again.

*I am pregnant.  What was that?  Um yeah dick, I am almost 99% sure it is yours.

*I am so sorry I left that dead chicken in my car all summer.  It was an accident.

The truth is: Mike makes me feel calm, even more so than my Lexapro.  He has helped me find peace in things that used to cause me pain.  He loved me when I did not love myself.  He knows my deepest secrets and does not prey on my vulnerabilities.  He makes me feel safe when I pull the covers up at night and he even likes that I am weird.  Case in point, he loves that I taught our children to stop and pick up stranded worms on the sidewalk after a rainstorm.  In fact, he helps us put them back in the grass.  He has shown me that people can be trusted and having a great friend in life feels much so much better than finding reasons to be hurt all the time. 

Laugh guys, this living shit doesn’t last forever.  Michael- Thank you for loving me.  Happy Anniversary.    XO