My Monacita (Little Monkey Girl) is home.

While this is a Good Thing (TM), it has also been awkward for all of us. Partially this is Monacita’s adjustment to being back home. Partially this is my adjustment to her being back home. Partially this is because Araceli has stuff going on with her family that she’s not talking about, but it’s making her pretty grumpy.

Things are finally settling though, Monacita and I actually had a conversation last night, and that helped. And she clued me in about Araceli, which made helped reassure me that I hadn’t done something wrong. Being able to talk and connect is what makes me feel comfortable in a relationship. And knowing I haven’t pissed off the home owner allows me to sleep better at night.

So things have sort of settled into this odd pattern of Monacita as the Invalid (though she’s doing far better today… It’s been more than 12 hours since her last dose of pain meds, and she seems to be okay), me as the House Wife (doing all the cooking and cleaning takes a hell of a lot of time if you cook every damn meal), and Araceli as the Working Stiff. She works, she’s grumpy, and she’s the only one with an income.

She also just pointed out that there’s a box of breaded shrimp in there that I should make for everyone some time. I simply pointed out that I can’t eat them.

* * *

I don’t mind playing the role of the House Wife really… I’m not too bad at cooking, and as it and cleaning are really the only things expected of me right now, it’s actually kind of fun. Usually trying to fit cooking in with all the other things I need to do simply makes me stressed.

There is one thing that is driving me bat-shit crazy though… The Kitchen.

The house, and most of the contents thereof belong to Araceli. This also includes The Kitchen. Araceli doesn’t really like to cook, and tends to buy things based on their appearance, rather than their functionality. While this makes the rest of the house beautiful, it makes The Kitchen a nightmare. The plastic glasses that can’t go in the dishwasher are annoying, but I can simply not use them. The fact that the good set of crockery bowls have been replaced by a set of plastic bowls with rubber feet that can’t be microwaved, and can ONLY be put in the top rack of the dishwasher (after the rubber feet have been removed) is something worth going postal over.

She really does seem to have no idea of how a kitchen is supposed to function. I moved the double boiler off the stove top (because all it did was collect grease and dust, forming a disgusting amalgamation on the lid). She replaced it within a few weeks with a black kettle for boiling water. The kettle is too small to hold much water, and is shaped in a way that makes it pour badly. The really ironic part? When she heats water she doesn’t use a kettle. She uses her coffee maker. So now there’s one more thing taking up room on the stove, as well as a double boiler sitting on the counter.

She buys food in much the same way. She does these massive trips to Sam’s Club, buying in bulk, without really thinking about the practicality of the quantities, or whether or not anyone else in the house will eat these things. (See the afore mentioned shrimp.)

Don’t get me wrong, I know her heart is in the right place, but we’re are completely out of room to house the canned and boxed goods she buys… usually of stuff we only eat two or three times a year. Plus she gets really disappointed when she gets stuff I can’t eat or neither Adrea nor I will eat.

I don’t really feel like I can say anything about this either. How do you tell someone who is trying to help that they’re making things unnecessarily difficult? I’ve been slowly rearranging the kitchen though, to at least make the items I need to cook with a tad more accessible. There really is no reason that there have to be two stacks of dinner plates available with no bowls in reach without a foot stool. Nothing has gone missing (that has taken great restraint on my part, thank you very much), just simply rearranged so certain items are easier to get to. And so far, no one has noticed.

I feel like there’s a lot I haven’t spoken about regarding the Toads. I was trying to get to it all, but I see them (well, her) daily, and after a while all the days start to blur together… I can’t honestly remember everything anymore. So there may seem to be a jump in things, and inexplicable progressions in the relationship, but it can’t be helped. There’s just far more than I can process.

In large part this is because I’ve finally quit being so angry about it all. It was easy to keep a list of wrongs while I was angry, but now that the anger has subsided, I just feel tired. It has been a long, hard road, mostly because this whole thing has been all about Monacita, and her relationship with her parents, but a fairly hefty chunk of it was taken out on me. How could I not be angry? I was especially miffed since I sincerely doubt there will ever be an apology for how I was treated, even though I wasn’t the problem.

Another thing that helped was a conversation with Mrs Toad. Did she say everything I wanted to hear? Of course not. But she did say plenty of things I could live with. And when she said, “My job is to make Monacita well. Your job is to make her happy.” I knew that there was hope.

Do I trust her? No, not really. After the way this all began, trust is still far off in the future. And I certainly don’t agree with everything she’s said. (Now I know where some of Monacita’s weirder ideas about human interrelations come from.) But she’s trying, and I do appreciate that fact. Especially when she made lunch for Monacita and I. She went out of her way to make something I could eat for lunch. It means a lot when people try to figure out things I can eat. No wheat gluten and no dairy protein are really strict limitations to work with outside of Asian cuisine. Hell, *I* can barely manage to feed myself things I’m not allergic to half the time. (The other half of the time I fail miserably at it.) And the woman went out of her way to think up something that I could eat.

That was definitely a consideration I wasn’t expecting. I certainly wouldn’t have asked it of her. I’m sure the vehemence of my gratitude for lunch today seemed a bit strange to her, but it meant a lot to me that she not only fed me, but went out of her way to feed me something I could eat.

I don’t think I’m getting this across well… Let me try again.

The people who go out of their way to feed me things I can eat are people who care about me. It’s not that others don’t care, it’s that I don’t expect it of them. It’s a very deliberate act that happens to mean a great deal to me.

And no. This doesn’t mean all of a sudden Mrs Toad and I are totally comfortable with each other. But it does mean that we’re trying to get along.

Mr Toad, on the other hand, hasn’t changed at all… It’s been two weeks since Monacita’s surgery, and he still hasn’t spoken to me. Actually, I haven’t seen him at all since Monacita left the hospital. I hear him when I’m there, but he seems to be staying out of my way. Which is fine. I’m just glad I no longer have to grab a bottle of Immodium just to consider going over to visit my girlfriend.

Oh, and about the name changes… I discovered that certain names, when typed into Google, listed my page. Certain combinations of names would bring my page up as the first hit in Google. So everyone is getting a pseudonym. I’ll add a cast of characters page later, explaining them all. For now, Monacita is my girlfriend, Araceli is her roommate, and the Toads are Monacita’s parents.

Today confirmed it… Mrs Toad is nicer and more social when Araceli is present than when it’s just me visiting. We took the exuberant Aussie over to see “Mommy” (my illustrious girlfriend) because she’s been sulking about Monacita’s absence for a week. (I put the phone up to her ear the other night so Monacita could say hi, and when the dog heard it, she whipped around, searching for Monacita. And when she couldn’t find her, she proceeded to sulk for 20 minutes, and mope for the rest of the evening. She’s very devoted.)

Anyway, when we got there, Mrs Toad offered us something to drink, and was terribly talkative with Araceli. She even came back downstairs about halfway through our visit and asked if I was ready for something to drink. This is the nicest she’s ever been to me.

And reflecting on that later, I had an almost perverse, if hilarious, realization… They’re treating me like family.

Seriously. Hear me out.

The Toads, especially Mrs Toad, are obsessed with how people percieve them. Everything is about appearances. This fact is why I was so stunned and appalled by their initial treatment of me. I expected them to put on a front, and instead they behaved horribly. And while it has gotten better, it is still abundantly clear that they’d rather I didn’t show up.

Except when Araceli (the outsider in this scenario) came over as well. Then, all of a sudden, I was treated like I was welcome.

In other words, there’s a front to be shown to the public, but I don’t count as public anymore. They put it up for Araceli, not me.

I have to admit I laughed when I realized it.

And I can’t help but wonder what Mrs Toad would think if she ever came to that same realization.

Now before anyone gets too uppity about that last account, I’d like to point out that there was a fair amount of stress going on too, and I wasn’t the only one getting the backhand of Mrs Toad’s sense of indignation… I believe there was a nurse present in the other half of Monacita’s double occupancy prep room when Mrs. Toad announced that she’d “be spending the night if I don’t feel I can trust your nurses…”

Fast forward to March 9th.

After weeks of stressing about Monacita’s surgery and meeting her parents, the fateful day arrived. The Toads had cut their trip to Mexico short to fly back for her surgery. They arrived at 12:30 that morning, and called at about 8 AM, wanting to know what time Monacita would be arriving at their house. Somehow they’d decided that Monacita was going to drive over there first. She explained that she wasn’t, and offered to give them the address of the hospital so they could look up directions online, but they were having none of it. They insisted that they were going to come and pick her up.

I, of course, immediately panicked, and Monacita insisted that they were just being weird, and eventually, we convinced ourselves that they just wanted some alone time before she went into her surgery. It was a concept I could grasp, I’d spent the prior week glued to her hip for the most part. I tried to ignore that sinking feeling I had in the pit of my stomach… The same one I always get as I feel myself being shoved out of the way, as I lose control of the events around me.

Between when they called, and when they arrived, the hospital called, announcing that the surgery before Monacita’s had completed early, and they wondered if she could get there earlier than she was originally supposed to. She told them she was waiting for her ride, and that she’d do the best she could.

The Toads had been scheduled to arrive at 11 AM so they could have a minute to meet me before we all left for the hospital. They arrived at 10:45, and Monacita quickly informed them that they needed to leave immediately, introduced me briefly, and ran back into the house to grab her stuff. Mrs Toad spoke for them both, and simply said in the flattest voice she could manage, “We’ve met.”

They loaded her stuff into the car. They loaded her into the car. They left. I drove fast, and caught up and followed them on the way until Mr Toad gunned it through a yellow light. I tried not to read too much into it, knowing that Monacita really did need to get there as quickly as possible.

I arrived in time to see them grab a parking place, and as I searched for another one, I saw them unload Monacita and her backpack, and head towards the entrance with her. But that was conceivably okay too because I knew where Monacita was supposed to check in, and she had told the nurse she’d do her best to rush… I caught up with them in Admitting. They rushed her through Admitting, and sent her upstairs where she could change before going into prep. At the elevator Mr Toad stepped aside to allow Mrs Toad and Monacita into the elevator, then stepped in front of me to get in himself. But I had been lagging behind a few steps… I didn’t want to be too intrusive…

Upstairs, Mr Toad stepped out so Monacita could change, and while he was gone, the nurse brought a card telling what floor and ward Monacita would be staying in after her surgery. She handed it to me, and I didn’t quite know what to do with it.. So I offered it to Mrs Toad, who shook her head, and when the nurse came in, asked for one of her own. I told her that I could copy the info down and she could have it, but she informed me that she’d “get her own” in that same flat tone of voice. She then proceeded to babble nicely to Monacita, ignoring me. When she stepped out of the room to go get Mr Toad before Monacita went into prep, I gave her a kiss, told her I loved her, and fled before the Toads came back.

Neither of us had been expecting this. Throughout all my panic during the prior week, Monacita kept telling me that all I had to do was be polite, and they would too. Sure, we knew they were seriously homophobic, but they are also obsessed with appearances. It never occurred to either of us that they could possibly be so ill behaved, especially in public. But they were, and it continued throughout the day. I tried to be nice, but everything except direct questions were ignored by Mrs Toad, and Mr Toad never spoke to me at all. My mother received the same treatment. When Monacita’s roommate Araceli showed up, they spoke to her, when other friends of Monacita showed up, they spoke to them. But I continued to not exist.

By 7 PM we were all exhausted, and it was beginning to show. When I’d speak to Araceli, I’d see Mrs Toad pay attention for a minute or two before she remembered that she was pretending I didn’t exist. These little lapses got more pronounced as the evening wore on.

When they finally wheeled Monacita up to the floor, her parents went up to her bed, effectively forming a barricade between me and her. I had to wait until they left three hours later before I got to hold her hand, or speak to her much at all. As Mrs Toad left, she insisted that I needed to leave promptly after they did. I didn’t, of course, but I was so grateful she was leaving, I felt no need to contradict her.

At least the surgery went well.

My beloved girl has given me permission to blog about my newly met in-laws, here-after referred to as the Toads. (This is a name she came up with long ago. I don’t believe she uses it now, but it’s one of my personal favorites.) I was hesitant to at first, because while I have no problem sharing my life with the public, it’s her life too, and, tragically, her parents. But this has started to get really insane, and I’m starting to want a record of this. Based on recent events, being able to go over the details with a fine tooth comb later might be important.

I’ve met the Toads once before, for about 20 minutes. In that brief time period, when they didn’t know that I was her girlfriend, they were civil. Hell, they were even nice. They didn’t go out of their way to engage me in conversation, but they also didn’t exclude me. Mrs Toad enjoys talking too much to really exclude people. I know Mr Toad doesn’t talk much anyway, so I didn’t feel like I was being overly avoided.

Their visit was fairly brief, and Mrs Toad had a lot to say, and all in all, while it was awkward in my own head, outside in the world it appeared fine. They were there to drop off an old appliance of theirs they’d recently replaced. The old one was still in good condition, so they gave it to their daughter. I mention this because there was one weird incident… The door to said appliance wouldn’t quite close all the way after they’d moved it. Mrs Toad got really upset by this fact, going on and on about how they’d look if they left a broken appliance, and harassed Mr Toad until he was able to fix it. It really seemed to bother her, far more than the issue warranted in my head. Shortly after it’s repair, they left. That was about two years ago. Until last Wednesday, I hadn’t seen them since.

More later. This story is far from done.

She is okay, it was fibroids (about two dozen of them!), and there is no cancer.

Yeah, okay, she did have to have a partial hystorectomy, but there is no cancer.

I cannot believe how happy this news has made me.

I can’t believe this turned out so amazingly well.

I’m so happy she’s okay.

There really are no words to express the relief I feel.

Well maybe there is.

I feel absolutely blessed.

Don’t get me wrong, somedays, there are truly earth shattering questions like “Why are we here?” and “Where am I going with my life?”

Other days, the great question is:

Where is the pug, and what is he doing?

And the follow up question:

Did that loud sound about an hour ago have anything to do with his disappearance?

And the answers, in order:

In Araceli’s room, waiting, and yes.

I guess he bumped into the door on his way in.

Which brings up the question of What in the hell was he doing in Araceli’s room to begin with? but that’s one best left for Araceli to discover when she gets home. I’m not going tromping through her room.

He did seem terribly happy to be out though.