Max and Ruby

I know everybody posts about Max and Ruby and their mysterious missing parents. I know this because I became deeply concerned about those two little anthropomorphized bunnies, so I tried to find out about their parents. Near as I can tell, they are raising themselves. Apparently, other than one picture of parents on the wall above the sofa, no one has seen their parents. Most people hypothesize that the parents have passed on. Although some people guess that something more sinister is at work, and one blogger even ventured that grandma is a very old mother.

The author says that she doesn't include parents because she wants kids to learn to solve their own problems without running to their parents. Apparently, she wants all the kids out there to be able to solve the commonplace childhood problems of food shopping, preparing holiday meals, baking elaborate desserts, and  throwing Halloween parties without needing adult help. Yeah, okay -- whatever. This author seems a little squirrelly to me.

Regardless of where people fall in the great parent debate, most people agree on one point. They all hate Ruby. Most people talk about how bossy she is, and how she controls everything Max does. They talk about her being uptight and OCD, and say she is mean to Max who is more of a free spirit. My own husband worries that Ruby, who is my daughter's current idol, is a bad influence on the Peanut mainly because the Peanut doesn't need any encouragement in the bossy department.

I personally feel really bad for Ruby. She tries really hard to raise Max right. I figure her irresponsible parents are off getting wasted while Ruby is left to hold down the fort.  It isn't easy to be a seven year old mom. Max is sweet, but he's a little devious. If you look at his facial expressions, you'll realize that he knows exactly how to push his poor sister's buttons. She cooks, she cleans, she bathes and dresses Max, she shops, she plays with her brother, she obvioulsy loves him; she is a good girl.

I'm just saying, people should cut poor Ruby a break.

D-I-V-O-R-C-E!!!

My husband and I never (and I know everyone says this), never, never fought before the children were born. We knew each other for about 15 years before the birth of our first, were roommates for 14 of those years, and romantically involved for 5. In that time, we had a few fights as roommates over dishes and late bills, we had a fight as friends over wearing headphones during a conversation, and we had a few fights as a couple over not spending enough time together and petty jealousy (mostly mine).

Since the peanut was born 2 years ago, we haven't stopped fighting. It got a little better when peanut was about 1 until the pumpkin man was born, but never really let up. Now, we are at each other's throats again. We still love each other, without a doubt. We still want to be together, and affirm this after every fight. But we are relentless, and we can't seem to give each other a break. 

Seriously, we fight about everything and nothing, from kid stuff: when the diaper pail needs to be changed, how much the peanut ate during the day, how to clean chocolate milk stains, where to put the kiddie pool -- to house stuff: when and how to deal with Kevin and Fat Tony, how much to spend on fish, how much mulch we need, when to get the mail from the box, when to throw food out -- to global issues: the economy, politics, human issues, neighborhood ideology, family crap -- to intimacy: what we share with others, when to have sex, how much we love each other, who is listening to whom, and why we can't communicate.  

I know I love him, and there is no one else for me in this world. I don't want to be in this life, or any other, with anyone else. The thought D-word makes my throat close and chest seize up. I can't breathe without him. He is the center of my world and the anchor of my sanity. I can't remember life without him, and I don't want to. I loved him before I ever met him, and I will love him long after we are gone. Forever, and Forever, and Forever...

Mostly, I think I'm just a bitch and he needs more sleep. Like he says, "we just need to hold on."