When J and I first started dating, after we started settling into the fact that things seemed to be going well....J called me from work and said he wanted to talk to me about something that weekend but wouldn't say what. I begged and pleaded and he would not say. I would not say I am a patient person. So, he showed up that weekend and before he could even say "Hello", I insisted he telling what was on his mind.
He said, that there were two deal breakers that would end our relationship. The first was that we could not circumcise any boys that we would have. (My boys are currently uncut.) That was easy.
The second deal breaker was my potty mouth. He indicated that he hated that I swore so much. It was not classy, professional, and it was not what he wanted to hear the rest of his life. Nor was it what he wanted his children to hear. He essentially thought it was trashy.
Lulo has penguins. Three 3-inch plastic penguins. I spend at least 20 minutes a day wondering where they are or looking for them or checking up on them so I don't have to look for them. 20 minutes a day. 140 minutes a week. That's two hours. I don't think I am exaggerating. When one of these penguins are lost (and one was for exactly two months and we had to obtain a replacement), it creates a meltdown of Biblical proportions. See Ghostbusters.
I have impaled my finger looking for the penguins. I have almost gotten into a car accident. I have been on my hands and knees under couches, cribs, beds, futons, movie theater seats, bathrooms. I have fished the penguins out of toilets and sinks. They have scratched me, been thrown at me. I have sat on them, stepped on them. Both hurt like hell.
These penguins have often gotten more of my time than Juju and Jojo. They are driving me insane. If I am ever institutionalized, it will be over these penguins and their whereabouts. They piss me off. They anger me. They madden me. They make me anxious because I don't know when we will lose them next.
They are pretty much irreplaceable. He calls them Grandma Penguin and Mama Penguin. The other penguin is sort of without name. I don't know why. I have to know which one is which at all times. If I don't he yells at me. Last week my mother brilliantly put a "G" in pink highlighter on the penguins belly so all of us would always know. Tattooing the penguin was not problematic.
Anyhow, they have caused me to swear here and again. Yes, swearing was a deal breaker but a zebra can't change it stripes.
And so now Lulo says, "where are my effing penguins?"
He actually says EFFING because I try not to say FUCK in front of him when I am looking for them! Fuck, how did I end up here?