The weight of the betrayal settled in my stomach like a cold stone. Three years. Three years of sacrifice, of pinching pennies and foregoing simple pleasures, all for a car that would keep our family safe. And he’d squandered it. On a whim. On a trip to Paris for his mother.
David, bless his oblivious heart, seemed genuinely surprised by my reaction. He’d always been a mama’s boy, and I’d tolerated it, even indulged it, to a point. But this? This was beyond the pale.
“It’s my money too!” he’d protested, his voice rising in that familiar defensive tone. “She deserves it! You can’t put a price on gratitude.”
I’d simply stared at him, my mind reeling. Gratitude? What about gratitude for the sacrifices I’d made, for the countless hours I’d spent juggling work, kids, and household chores? What about gratitude for the safety of our children?
I knew arguing would be futile. He was locked in his own world of justifications, and I wasn’t about to waste my breath. Instead, I retreated, a quiet fury simmering beneath my composed exterior.
Over the next few days, I played the part of the understanding wife. I smiled, nodded, and even helped him pack his mother’s suitcase. I listened patiently as he recounted his mother’s excited phone calls, her plans for sightseeing and shopping.
But beneath the surface, I was plotting. I was determined to teach him a lesson about finances, about responsibility, about the true meaning of family.
First, I contacted his mother. I explained the situation, the crumbling van, the precarious state of our family finances. She was mortified. She’d always been a sensible woman, and she was appalled by her son’s impulsive decision. She offered to pay for the trip herself, but I declined. Instead, I suggested a compromise. She could still go to Paris, but for a shorter period, a weekend getaway rather than a full week. The difference in cost would be returned to our car fund.
Next, I tackled the issue of David’s “my money too” argument. I opened a joint account, separate from our everyday expenses, and deposited the remaining car fund, along with the money his mother had returned. I then created a detailed budget, outlining our household expenses, including the cost of a new (used) car. I presented it to David, highlighting the glaring discrepancy between our needs and his impulsive spending.
I also introduced him to the concept of “family meetings.” Every Sunday, we would sit down together, discuss our finances, and make joint decisions about spending. The kids were included, too, learning about the value of money and the importance of saving.
Finally, I decided to address the issue of his mother’s constant demands. I didn’t want to create a rift between them, but I needed to establish boundaries. I suggested that we set aside a small portion of our budget for gifts and experiences for both our families, to be agreed upon by both of us.
The changes weren’t immediate. David grumbled about the budget, about the “unnecessary” family meetings. But slowly, he began to understand. He started to appreciate the sacrifices I’d made, the careful planning that kept our family afloat. He even started to enjoy the family meetings, seeing them as an opportunity to connect with the kids and make joint decisions.
The day we drove our newly purchased (used) car home, David looked at me, his eyes filled with a mixture of regret and gratitude. “Thank you,” he said, his voice sincere. “For teaching me.”
I smiled. “We’re a team, David,” I said. “And teams work together.”
People are just learning the brutal reason why you should never declaw your cats
Even though it could be better for your couch, that might not be the best thing for your cat.
Declawing is defined as “the amputation of the last bone of each toe on a cat’s paw” by The Humane Society of the United States, and that definition alone should dissuade you from engaging in the procedure.
Our animal buddies endure great anguish during declawing, as the society compared it to chopping off your finger at the last knuckle.
They continued, giving an explanation: “Using a scalpel or guillotine clipper, amputation is the usual way of declawing. The feet are wrapped, and the incisions are sealed with surgical glue or stitches.”
Recently, the declawing debate has spread to Twitter, largely due to the popular account “non aesthetic things.”
The user wrote, “This is why you shouldn’t declaw your cat,” and included a video that showed what happens to cats who are declawed.
Basically, declawing causes the last bone on a cat’s toes to be severed and removed. This impacts the tendons and ligaments and eliminates the claw entirely.
Cats may feel “extreme pain” when they learn to walk on what are essentially amputated toes, but they do heal eventually.
The movie described how this causes cats to struggle with walking, jumping, and balance, which would ultimately cause them to exhaust their nine lives.
Even in the long run, defewing can have negative effects like arthritis, persistent pain, and limited mobility.
Oh, poor infants.
Many people have flocked to the Twitter video’s comments section, where many have only recently discovered the grim reality of declawing.
One member said, “So declawing your cat is just removing parts of their feet wth.”
One person wrote, “literally, take off our very last finger bone that we literally use to type,” another wrote, “It’s absurd to think that a significant portion of people in the US declaw their cats.” A third person wrote, ” To be honest, I’ve never heard of this outside of the United States.”
Four people said, “Declawing should be banned everywhere, it’s just inhumane!” in the meantime.
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