Paralysis by Analysis

Pleasing a woman is never easy, even in the best of circumstances. Pleasing her while she’s pregnant…why, that’s just a Pandora’s box that is perhaps best left unopened.

Perhaps my first memory of displeasing a woman, came back in the 80s. I don’t remember if it was my mother’s birthday, or actually Mother’s Day, but I found this really cool, under-the-counter can opener that I thought she’d love (remember: this is the 80s). With my little 10-year old money, I bought it and presented it to her on the now-forgotten holiday. Expecting her to be “wowed” by my selection, I was devastated when she started crying and even moreso when, after many months had gone by and she had not asked my dad to install it, I realized she didn’t like the gift.

That was an important lesson; one which, if you judge by the media and locker-room talk, many men would do well to learn.

The Lesson: A “good” gift is one part selection, and one-part timing.

For instance, had I given my mom the can opener at Christmas–at the same time she got a really pretty sweater or some jewelry–it probably would have gone over OK. However, having that being the “only gift” at the time, made what might normally be a good gift, instead something that reminded her that her young, active lifestyle of jogging and reading books like, “The Sugar Blues,” while partying and driving around on the weekends in her little blue Mustang, were over.

So it is with much trepidation that I approach May. In addition to Mother’s Day being in May, it is also the month of CareerMom’s birthday. In fact, there are only three days between the two this year (I know…yay me!). What does one get a pregnant woman whose self loathing is at an all time high? Sure, I could go the “spa” route, but really…a “pregnancy massage”? Really?

I could go with some nice clothes, which she’d only get to wear for a month or two before (hopefully) putting them into a storage bin for the last time.

Jewelry is always nice, but my bank account isn’t that lucrative right now.

What’s a man, and his two boys, to do?

I pose this question to my readers:

CareerMom asked that I give her money to purchase a new swimsuit for our beach trip at the end of the month. Ok, that’s doable, but…ho hum…BORING! Come on…she’s 6 months pregnant. She isn’t going to go buy a sexy bikini or even a moderately revealing two-piece (I know…it’s not for ME…).

I then thought about getting her a gift certificate for some clothes at a trendy-ish clothing store for women, like Chico’s or Boston Proper. But that would be for after the baby comes and after she’s lost some of the baby weight, which…I know, is a goal of hers.

But this idea is fraught with perils. My thought is that this would be a personal incentive for her to lose the weight so that she could get some fun new clothes. I know she’s going to lose it anyway, so is it really so bad? But, what if she gets offended that I “want” her to lose weight?

Is this a good idea, or is this a Pandora’s Box that I would be well-advised to just put back in the hole and cover up with some dirt?

Change is…good?

 

We all change over time don’t we? I mean, more than just our age, we change the way the think; what we like; how we view the world. It’s normal right? It happens to everyone and when it does, you roll with the punches and move on.

Or, you’re supposed to…

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The other night, CareerMom and I were lying in bed watching TV. I had the latest hardback copy of Jim Butcher’s “Turn Coat” in my hands and CareerMom was beside me flopping around like a floundering fish while alternately poking herself in the belly in the vain hopes of getting the baby to stop kicking her in the kidneys (secretly, I chuckled). But then the show “Fringe” came on and I put my book aside. There are few entertainment choices I enjoy in this world as much as a paranormal mystery, and while Fringe just barely qualifies, it does have some fantastic actors, including the venerable John Noble, who played Denethor in “Lord of the Rings.”

Anyway, as the Fringe intro concluded, and with it, the creepy music and somewhat vague, if not promising threat of coming violence, CareerMom mumbled beside me, “I don’t think I’m going to like this.”

Now, let me pause for a moment and explain the significance of this statement.

When I met CareerMom, the X-Files was at the peak of its popularity. In fact, the two of us spent many an evening playing the X-Files video game together and it was SHE, who introduced me to Twin Peaks, a show that, until then, I had ignored. Suffice it to say that she has always been a fan of these types of shows.

But no longer apparently…

In response to her cathartic announcement, I responded with, “What happened to you? You used to love this stuff!”

She just grunted.

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Folks, I felt like a piece of me died right there in that bed. I mean, unless she was just completely snowing me when we were dating, she was into Sci-Fi–not hard core, but enough! Now, hell, I don’t know what kinds of shows she likes now. For all I know, my weekly diet of “Fringe,” “Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles” and “Two and a Half Men” leaves her completely bored and in need of intellectual stimulation. But frankly, at 9 p.m., the LAST thing I need is MENTAL stimulation!

Can’t a guy just relax and lose himself in some otherworldy improbability for a while?

But more than that, it’s a sign of things to come and even things that have already happened, but which I’ve ignored. We’ve changed. Oh, we still love each other and our marriage is solid, but…do you remember when you first started dating? Do you remember hearing about couples who took separate vacations and do you remember looking over at your partner and saying, “Man that’s ridiculous! I would never go on vacation without you!” The people who did that, who went on vacations without the love of their life; well, they clearly had marital issues!

Yeah…um…give it ten years. Now, she wants to go to the beach, and I want to lose myself in the woods, preferably in a lake created by an asteroid crater somewhere high in the mountains–just me and my fishing pole (and maybe my MP3 collection and a shower, and an actual toilet…).

And it’s not just vacations, it’s lots of little things. Things that, taken individually, are minor. I mean, so what if she’s not as into new age classical music anymore. And, is it THAT big a deal if my Netflix selections rarely ever include a chick-flick or anything else with Mathew McConaughy in it? She’s a big girl. She can log on and make some selections.

It’s not one thing; it’s lots of little things. It’s lots of the little things that I’ve loved about her all this time. But hey, people change and I still love her and all that, but then, where do you draw the line? For how many vacations do you suck it up and keep your mouth shut until finally, you’re like, “Hey, I get that you’re not going to want to go hang out in a cabin with no cell phone service for a week while I sit in a little John boat and fish. So, why don’t you go to the beach with the kids, while I…don’t.”

I mean, is that possible? Or rather…is that possible without coming off looking like a complete douche? After nearly ten years together, the part of me that really WANTS to make that effort just thinks, “If she wants it badly enough, she’ll say something.” Seriously, a guy can’t spend his entire life trying to figure out what somebody wants. Sooner or later the other person has to speak up. And by the way, I could use that paintbrush on a WHOLE bunch of different life-canvases…if you know what I mean.

Move over Hank Moody…

By nature, I’m a socially sullen person. By that, I mean that when I’m out and about in public, I put on my “don’t talk to me” face so that I can get in and out with the least amount of interaction with others. Grocery store baggers, bank tellers and cheery hair stylists are my Kryptonite and I am the mild mannered, if perhaps slightly less-musculared, Superman.

After my recent trip up to TrishaTruly’s, thanks to her man’s assistance in locating some of the best online sources of “free from somewhere” movie and television programming, I’ve been catching up on episodes of “Dr. Who,” “Dexter” and I’ve even now watched all two seasons of “Californication.” David Duchovny is one cool dude–always has been. Ever since his X-Files days, I’ve admired his lazy delivery and seemingly casual demeanor, and it’s evident in every role he plays, including the sex-addicted writer on Californication. I’m drawn to this show for a number of reasons: his job (cuz, it’s kinda like mine), Duchovny as an actor, lots of breasts, and some amazing cameo appearances from people who must owe either Duchovny or the other producer on the show, some serious favors (e.g., Tom Cruise did a quickie).

If you’ve never watched the show, Duchovny plays a writer (Hank Moody) in L.A. who is living the party life. He drinks like a fish, smokes a boat-load of ‘the pot’ and he picks up girls like nobody’s business. It doesn’t matter what he’s doing, or where he is, the whole show is one big hottie-fest.

Definitely NOT like my life. Don’t get me wrong, I may only be 5′ 8″ tall, but I’ve done OK. I once dated a girl who ended up getting implants and then becoming an Atlanta Falcons Cheerleader. I pulled a Hootie and the Blowfish and had one come knocking on my door after she left her husband. But still, I don’t just walk down the aisle in the grocery store with a bottle of Jim Bean in my hand and have the ladies give me ‘the eye.’

Until last week.

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I picked the boys up from Daycare a tad early and headed over to the local mega-mart shopping center. First we picked up some dog food and treats at the pet store and then we headed over to the grocery store where the boys wedged themselves into one of those buggies that has a big plastic race-car on the front. I mean, it’s cool for them, but it makes navigating those tiny store aisles something of a challenge.

Looking back on it, the next thirty minutes seem a bit surreal. The boys were being cute-crazy and I’m sure that, more than anything I was doing, attributed to the smiles, chit-chat and looks I received from all the female shoppers. But something was happening out of the ordinary. Women smiled at me. They looked me in the eye. And as I turned the corner once, an achingly attractive, late-20’s-something blonde girl in heels and black ankle-length pants stopped, looked demurely over at me and said something in a self-deprecating fashion as she lowered her eyes (oooh, that’s HOT!) before flashing a brilliant smile and heading left. Honestly, I felt like Hank Moody walking around the store. And the weird thing was, I was happy. I was smiling. I was having a GOOD TIME!

Out in public no less!

I’m now starting to wonder how many single years I wasted acting unapproachable. Sure, I have always been able to turn on the charm when necessary, but most of the time I didn’t bother. Looking back…man, what a waste. It was a Zen-like moment that I’m sure will not happen again. But for just a few minute there, I knew what it must feel like to be a PLAYA! It felt good. It was fun.

It could get a guy in a LOT of trouble–married or otherwise.

One more candy holiday down!

Are there any more candy holidays until Halloween? I pray not. MLE has shown exceptional acumen at being able to sniff out and unwrap foil-wrapped candy. It’s a vice his older brother never picked up, but is happily playing along with.

*sigh*

CareerMom leaves town again today for the whole week, but this time, things are going to be  bit different. For one, she’s not leaving over the weekend, so I get a break during the day while I’m working and the boys are at daycare. Secondly, she’s arranged for my SIL to come watch the kids two nights this week.

TWO NIGHTS! That’s like, more free time than I get when CareerMom is home (and she wonders why I don’t mind her traveling so much).

However, in what is hopefully not a portend of the week to come, this morning we woke to discover bulging paint in the ceiling over our bedroom armoire, which, when coupled with the pounding rain we’re getting today, could only mean one thing–water leak!

Luckily (if there’s a silver lining when it comes to water leaks), the water is dribbling down a pipe where apparently, it’s not sealed well on the roof. I was able to stuff towels down to stop the water from getting further into my sheetrock and I’m hoping the rain is merciful as the day goes on. Friday night we had some nasty storms come through and we had a brief bit of large hail. I’m wondering if we didn’t accumulate some damage this spring with all the bad weather. So, I’ll be calling Mr. Insurance this morning to see if they want to come out and take a look-see. I know a few of my neighbors have gotten new roofs because of the weather this year so who knows.

Leapfrogging to another topic — church. Being Easter and all, we kept the boys with us in church on Sunday rather than sticking them in children’s church, which incites screaming fits each time from MLE, and they were really good for about 35 minutes. Unfortunately, church is more like an hour and 15 minutes. By the hour mark, MLE had played peek-a-boo with everyone behind us; he’s crawled around on the floor, and even wandered out into the aisle where he watched in awe at the unfolding passion play on stage. MLI just sat, laughed at MLE and ate Cheerios. Luckily, we were in the balcony where you can get away with a lot more shenanigans. It WAS entertaining at least (moreso than the over-emoters playing Mary Magdalene and Simon Peter on stage. And dude! You can’t tell me that Jesus and Mary M. weren’t an item!)

I hope you and your family had a good Easter, or at least enjoyed the fine weather if you don’t celebrate the holiday!