I'm not putting that on a t shirt you moron

Since the beginning of time, my husband has played in bands with stupid names. Until recently, most of the lead singers have had control issues, the drummers were all insane, and the gigs were in the shittiest bars in town. But the worst part of it all is that the names of these bands have been absolutely terrible.

I swear to you. Every time he joined a new band and told me the band name, my eyes would involuntarily roll into the back of my head. But, still I was supportive. I lugged cords and sat through soundchecks, spent Sundays hanging around music stores while he bought new and better equipment that we couldn't always afford, and listened to hours upon hours of the same songs, played over and over again ad nauseum.
I didn't mind. While the band names were terrible, the music has always been very, very good. My husband is a very talented bass player, and he has always played with other equally talented musicians. I have maintained a good attitude about the entire thing, and encouraged him to play whenever the opportunity arose.

Lately, he has been playing with a new group of guys - and by "playing" I mean hanging out at one of the guy's houses in a soundproof room on Friday nights, drinking tequila (Sam) and wine coolers (don't ask). They have had a few singers cycle through, but apparently it was never a good fit - and by "fit" I assume these potential singers talked shit about the wine coolers. My point is, the "band" he's in now is a very casual thing. No gigs. No singer. No set list. No band name. Just some guys, playing music.

Until last week.

Last week, one of Sam's current band mates - who also happens to be his co-worker - decided to throw a party, basically so that they could play in front of an audience. And an email was circulated at work promoting the event, and the band. Sam printed out the email and brought it home, leaving it out for me to look at after the kids were in bed.

You can imagine my surprise when I read the email and saw that the guys had come up with a name for their shenanigans.

Somehow, 3 middle-aged men with careers and families sat down and decided that their band name was going to be "Stinkfinger". And they apparently shared this little nugget with their co-workers, who promptly circulated an email via the company email system announcing the band name and encouraging everyone at work to come see them play. Which means that the company that my husband works for now believes that he is a member of a band called "Stinkfinger".

Stinkfinger.

That's it. That's what they came up with. Stinkfinger.

So I set the email back down on the kitchen counter and walked purposefully to the bedroom where he lay in bed reading a copy of Rolling Stone and I said "Are you out of your mind?"

"What?"

"STINKFINGER? You named your band STINKFINGER? Stinkfinger. Really. That's just great. And now your whole office thinks that is the name of the band. They believe that you are in a band called Stinkfinger."

"No, no.....we're just kidding."

"ITS IN THE EMAIL."

"Yeah, I know bu-"

"THE EMAIL WAS SENT TO YOUR BOSS."

"I'm not sur-"

"Let me explain something to you, SAM. If I am in public - hell, if I am in my own BACKYARD and you guys are introduced as 'Stinkfinger' I am getting up and taking the kids and leaving. I am not going to sit there and smile like an idiot and point you out and say 'My husband is Stinkfinger's bass player.' I am not wearing a tshirt that says STINKFINGER across the front of it. I will not do it."
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"Don't worry, that won't happen, it's just a joke."

"It's not funny."

"It's kind of funny."

"No. See, it's NOT. It's not fucking funny."

"Okay, I understand. You will never hear that name again."

So we go to the party, and they start playing, and there is no mention of anything at all relating to fingers - stinky or otherwise. I wandered inside to grab a beer and sat down on the couch for a minute to let Dude wriggle around and one of the guests came over to admire him.

"So," she said as she tickled Dude's toes. "How'd they come up with the name Stinkfinger?"

The guitars will be listed on Craigslist shortly. I'm keeping the extension cords, but if you're in the market for a sweet amp, let me know.

That mushy gushy post I promised you with lots of sunshine and reasons why I love being a girl.. I mean, a mom.

I Got Tagged.
Never before in the blogosphere has my participation been requested. And they may just regret their kind offer after reading what I have to say. I haven't read any of the other answers yet, so that you can get my honest-to-goodness responses, without my having to worry that what I have written sounds like someone else's answer. That drives me bat-shit crazy.

So, here goes.

5 Things I Love (or actually, not so much) About Being a Mom:

1. I love that my children are a real life, wonderful example of the power of tenacity. I overcame infertility two ways (that sounds like chinese food) and by following two very different paths, had the same wonderful result. Happy, healthy, well-adjusted children - one biological, and one not so much. (See, I know that not so much exemption would be useful.)

2. I love that my children have introduced me (via other children they have befriended) to some of my favorite mommy friends. People I never would have met, had we not had children of similar ages and interests.

3. I love that my children have brought napping back into my life. Oh, how I love to nap. And napping, I missed you so. A small but important piece of my soul was missing when you were not part of my day.

4. I love that my husband and I have this secret parent code now, where we can just glance at each other and KNOW what needs to happen. One single raised eyebrow can signal the "it's time to go" exit strategy. And when someone gets in trouble around here, we present a united, solid front, no conversation required.

5. I love the feeling of pride that I have in my family. I know, in my heart, that I am raising Good Kids. They have manners, they are cute and personable, and they can charm the pants off of anyone even remotely charm-able. They are my most successful endeavor, by far. Career ? Meh. But let me tell you all about my kids !

OK, one of my little darlings just dropped my brand new Blackberry on the floor. Which is how my last cellphone was destroyed. I am not really feeling the love at this particular moment, so best to stop and post now, before I change all of my answers.

Guys who leave

I was going to title this "men who leave" - but if they leave, I think they leave their manliness behind - balled up and rejected, left for someone else to pick up after them. Because really, that is why they leave...they just want to have someone picking up after them all the time. They don't want to do the work - the real work - that comes with the commitment. To a partner. To a child. To a home. To all of the messy complicatons of a life shared.

The other day, an old dear friend completed one of those memes on Facebook, this one was about her firsts.

One of the questions was "who's wedding was the first one you were in" or something like that. Her answer was: mine. (Mine, as in Daffodil's, to be clear)

Not mine and my ex's. Just mine. I got married alone, to myself. He has been erased from the equation, by having left our marriage. He starts fresh, I clean up and carry the history around with me forever. I have had to show my divorce papers at several times during my subsequent life, not just at my remarriage. At the adoption of my child. For tax purposes. To register a car. I still get his mail at my address, and I have moved 10, maybe 12 times since the divorce. Once I have recovered from the shock of seeing that name attached to my address - the home I share with my husband who swears he will never leave - I mark the envelope "return to sender" and stick it back in the box. Erase it from my mind, like he erased himself from my life.

Around the time that I remarried, my parents divorced. It was long, drawn out, and ugly for the pain it caused. For it's wrongness. It was rife with late-night calls, early morning departures, mail with no return address. Christmas was forever changed because it all seemed to spiral out of control beginning one cold Christmas morning - and the final nail was hammered in exactly one year later. My father was able to wreak havoc, to throw lives into chaos, create turmoil the likes of which I still cannot comprehend. And he just walked away. Left it for someone else to clean up and tie in a pretty bow and stick under the Christmas tree.

I see other couples going through tough times, and I wonder if the challenges will bring them closer together, or tear them apart. If the guys will walk away. Not men, not boys - just guys. Guys who know better, but choose to leave it all behind. It's too hard. It demands to much. It's too hard to keep clean and shiny and new.

My marriage isn't shiny and new. It's dented and tarnished and maybe a little rusty - but it's strong. It has weathered the abuse we (mostly I) have heaped on it. We were discussing marriage last night, and our reaction to friends who are struggling right now to hold their's together. My husband said to me "I plan to live here, with you, until you throw me out." We laughed, because we could. Because it was funny. Because neither one of us has threatened to leave. We have had conversations about splitting up - but those conversations were brief and tear-stained. No one is going anywhere. No one wants to leave. Leaving is not an option. We may disagree many times about many things, but on this topic, we are in agreement.

Coming soon: Women are Crazy Bitches

And if you read this post and thought to yourself "How dare she, my life is not her blog fodder", well, I got a few things to say.

1. Get over yourself, it's not about you. Trust me, many men are making stupid decisions these days. But the fact that you see yourself and your situation in this post should be a huge CALL OUT to shape up and grow a pair.

2. On the other hand.....Yes, everything I witness and hear about IS blog fodder. That's how it works. Too bad, so sad.

A hard call

I am supposed to be going out to dinner tonight with friends, to celebrate a girlfriend's birthday. It's not going to work out for tonight - I have already phoned my regrets to the birthday girl - and when I actually sat down and thought about it for a bit, I came to the conclusion that maybe it is for the best. We have these dinners 5 times a year - once for each birthday. The birthday girl tonight is a sweetheart, and I haven't seen her in ages. We talk on the phone from time to time, but we never seem to connect in person.

There were a few things about tonight that had me worried. The restaurant they chose for dinner is one that competes directly with the restaurant I work with. Times are tough, and every table counts these days. They are just around the corner from each other, and I felt guilty for going to this other restaurant. But I don't feel comfortable explaining my discomfort. I would almost rather just NOT GO and avoid the whole thing. And I certainly don't want to ask to relocate the dinner just because of where I work, or MY preferences..... Maybe they didn't suggest my workplace on purpose, so that I wouldn't have to hang out at work on my off night. But again, I wouldn't bring it up, because I don't feel comfortable making suggestions with this group anymore.....I feel that I should be grateful that they continue to include me in these dinnners.....

And the issue of money does enter the equation. I began 2009 choosing a cash-only lifestyle. And I do not have any cash right now. I used to think nothing of throwing down my platinum AMEX for these dinners - but not anymore. These dinners are to celebrate a birthday, so I definitely need to have extra cash on hand, to chip in for the birthday girl's dinner.....something that I never used to think twice about, but now I have to consider very carefully. My income and expenses have changed considerably. And that is not something I feel really comfortable opening up about with these women - especially at a birthday dinner.....and maybe, you know, that's a sign for me that I shouldn't ignore. If I *don't* feel comfortable being honest, then maybe I *shouldn't* be hanging out with them. They deserve better then that - these are awesome people, and great friends.....

And with that I begin to touch on how much our relationships have changed. Things have changed a lot since this group of ladies started going out on a regular basis 3 or 4 years ago. I feel like a 5th wheel. A stranger in their midst. I don't have much contact with them other then these every-few-months girls nights out....and I don't feel like I am their really good friend anymore. Of course, I don't know how much time they are spending together other then these dinners - maybe we ALL only see each other once every few months ? I honestly have no idea.

When taken all together, the prospect of tonight made me nervous. Uncertain. Not just a fun night out with the girls - it's loaded with all sorts of worry, concern, stress.......which is SO not what this is supposed to be about ! It's supposed to be FUN ! Birthday celebration ! Girl's Night OUT ! Woo FUCKING HOOOOO.

And for me, right now, well....not so much. And if I said anything, I would feel like a spoilsport. A pouter. A "take my toys and go home" kind of girl - which I am definitely NOT.

This is just the sort of thing that I will worry myself sick about...... and it seems so ridiculous. Stressed over going out to dinner ? Afraid of offending friends by sharing my fears and concerns ? God, I'm a schmuck. It's all moot anyway - I'm not going, so the problem is solved, essentially.

Troublemaker

I think I may have mentioned this before, but I am, um, loud.

And, sometimes I am rushed, and do not take the time to be as nice as I could be. SHOULD BE.

I try. Oh, how I try. I am all too aware of my shortcomings, and they eat away at me in a constant inner dialogue that is far too annoying to relay here.....suffice to say - I will always go there. Assume it was my fault. That I was in the wrong. That I hurt someone or offended them, or infuriated them.......and of course, that is accompanied by the guilt, and the inner dialogue which kicks into high gear at a higher volume, and makes me, well, a teensy bit crazy.

Today, I got really aggravated at work. There was a communication problem, perhaps a language barrier, or maybe I was just being an impatient, short tempered bitch. God knows stranger things have happened.

And today, when I was frustrated, and I tried to explain why I was frustrated, I was unsuccessful. I don't know why. It was as a result of a mistake made by someone else, and perhaps by the end of the discussion, I was no longer trying to be diplomatic - or friendly. I ended up being quite, well, loud.

And here's the thing. I am aware. I try. I apologize. I make amends. I try to change. I OWN MY ISSUES. But when it's just plain NOT my issue......well, fuck 'em.

So, today, when I was frustrated, I ended up having to apologize - and I wasn't even sure for what. And that really pissed me off. More then the *thing* that had frustrated me to begin with. Because dammit - I didn't do anything to apologize for. Being loud is not a crime. Frankly I was loud only because the person I was speaking to was louder. And the person who was really the root of the problem doesn't like loud. Doesn't like swearing either. But usually, is fairly good at communicating, or asking questions, or clarifying. Not this time.

Luckily, in this case, it was a very minor issue - just an order that was screwed up at the cafe. But It was screwed up three times over, and by the third time, the customer was aggravated, and I was aggravated on their behalf - and my own. In a job that is a fast paced as the restaurant business, there is not a lot of time to walk back and forth to the kitchen because of forgotten items. If I have forgotten the items, then it's my problem, and I deal with it. If it is someone else's mistake, I accept that shit happens, and wait for them to fix it, while appeasing the customer.......But if there is a mistake, and I point it out, then I damn well expect a quick fix - just as fast as I would be expected to respond if I had made the mistake myself. (And for the record, I have been known to RUN when necessary.) And if something is missing because we are OUT of it, and I was never told, well then, you had best have a few options for me to present the customer.

Stony silence is not one of the options.

I have the next several days off - or maybe forever.......but whatever the outcome, I would just like to reiterate.....a lesson that can be applied to so many of our life experiences......

If you fuck up, own it. Just own it. It's yours. Fix it, or apologize, or compromise - but make it better.