Category Archives: marriage

Out of focus

us

I never forget to tell my children how much I love them.  Every single day, without fail, they are smothered in kisses and wrestled to the ground with mommy bear hugs.  In every voice imaginable, I tell them how much they are loved.  It is automatic and I do it whether the children have behaved or have told me that dinner was yucky and screamed at me because I had the nerve to put them down for a nap.

Married love is not like this.  At least it is not anymore.  There was a time that the love was automatic, in the early days when our love was new and I could really feel the weight of our love in my heart and it still filled my stomach with butterflies. I don’t know exactly when it happened, maybe it was before kids, maybe after Carson was born, but I know at some point I started to forget to tell Tate that I loved him, to tell him everyday.

Now those three little words, “I love you,” are said only sporadically, when Tate doesn’t need to right some wrong I’ve imagined or when I’m not too tired.  (I’m always too tired.)   Married love is not automatic, it is constant work, filled with reminders of patience, reminders that we LOVE each other.  There are strings attached.

It doesn’t matter that I don’t want it to be this way.  Forgetting to tell Tate that I love him can be likened to forgetting to put ketchup on the grocery list.  My mental to do list waits to fulfill this intention, but by the time I see him in the evening, I’ve moved on from the thought of a kind gesture to whining, pants tugging children and dinner boiling over on the stove.

‘Twas the night before Christmas Eve Eve

‘Twas the night before Christmas Eve Eve
And all throughout my house
Chaos and toys had taken over
I shrugged and said, “It’s time to get soused.”

The wine glasses were filled to the brim with care
in hopes that a cleaning fairy soon would be there
With Tate wrapping presents and I frantically dusting
I suddenly yelled, “This bathroom’s disgusting.”

When down in the basement there arose such a clatter
I sprang from my duties to see what was the matter
Away to the kids’ rooms, I flew in a flash
But the kids were asleep lightning fast.

Tate mentioned something about my “moon” and my breasts
I just rolled my eyes at this wonky sex attempt, as you probably guessed
He retreated in defeat and went back to wrapping
I finished up cleaning and yearned for some napping

With an arm full of gifts, Tate came upstairs
I rummaged through the gifts to catch any spares
One for Carson, for Ella, for Tate, and for Nanny
For Papa, Uncle J, Aunt M, and for me

From Etsy, From Amazon, I already knew
Two more boxes, surprises!
How exciting!
Phew!

My eyes how they twinkled!
This Christmas would be merry!
Even though my butt is all dimpled
and my fat rolls are like jelly

I spoke not a word, but went straight to work
I tugged on Tate’s hand and said, “you deserve a perk!”
We went back to the bedroom, for cuddles and kisses
Tate was quite pleased to get all of his wishes

And I heard him exclaim as he drifted off to sleep,
“Merry Christmas, sweetheart.  I got you surprises to keep.”

(Slightly edited version originally published last year.)

My polygamist beginnings, please don’t tell the Pope

Post inspired by a comment I left at Amanda’s site, Shamelessy Sassy.

When I was around three-years-old, I was married to a man named Robert.  OBVIOUSLY Robert was imaginary, but he was as excellent a husband as an imaginary husband could be.

Robert had dark hair and was short, like me as a wee tot.  We did all sorts of things together that married toddlers do.  We played Barbies and with Weeble Wobbles.  I drug him around everywhere I went (not to be confused with actually being DRUGGED with legal and/or non-legal pharmeceuticals…because it would be near impossible to drug someone who is imaginary).  Robert and I were a very happy couple, as he always did whatever I wanted him to, as any husband worth his salt would do.

It’s possible that Robert and I had children together, I’m not really sure since it’s hard for me to remember DETAILS from 30 25 20 (Yeah!) years ago.  I may be skipping ahead a bit in the story, but I know that I had LOTS of kids with LOTS of husbands during my childhood years.  Most of my children never grew up past the age of “baby,” which is good, because, MAN, think of the college education costs.

Like many marriages that start off with passion (fruit juice, that is), my fairytale relationship with Robert eventually ended.  For some reason, and again my memory from all those years ago fails me, Robert and I broke up.  In fact, it was a pretty nasty break-up.  Maybe it’s because we were SO YOUNG.  Maybe he made eyes at an older four-year-old woman.  Maybe he wouldn’t share his Cheetos.  Who knows?  Robert ended up stuffed in a trash can, which I *think* is how most toddler marriages are annulled.  And I ended up married to Mark.

Details from my marriage to Mark are also fuzzy.  Kids?  I don’t remember?  Marital activities?  (NO, not marital RELATIONS, I was THREE.)  I simply don’t know.  I do know, though, that I have no recollection of ever having divorced Mark (Mom??  Do you remember?).  Like I mentioned above, I know that I went on to marry lots of other fellas and make lots of babies during my childhood, but I cannot remember if my marriage to Mark was ever formally annulled.

Fast forward to today and I’m (again) married, keeping my fingers crossed that I’m not unintentionally practicing polygamy.  I’m certain the Pope would NOT like that, although come to think of it, he probably wouldn’t be too thrilled at the sheer number of husbands I’ve had through my life.

When you were a child, did you have imaginary friends?  Imaginary husbands?

Less whiny single parent

Have you ever had a post at the top of your page that you really wish wasn’t the FIRST thing people see when they happen upon your blog?  Well my last ultra whiny, self-absorbed post about my descent into moving hell is just that post that I’d like to be moved down the page a bit.

So here I am, not exactly taking a blogging hiatus, or possibly I am.  I seriously just want that last post to just move on down the page.  I’m not saying, “hey I’m totally fine with this move!”  I’m not fine.  But I’m trying to make the best out of a lousy situation and reminding myself that 1) we’re lucky my husband has a job in this economy and 2) I NEED to be positive for my sanity’s sake and my kids’ sake (and 3) It’s not okay to be as upset as I’ve been over the loss of my dream kitchen because DUDE:  GET OVER IT.  It’s merely a gas cooktop, sink in the center island, double ovens kind of kitchen.  SERIOUSLY, BIG DEAL.  WAAAAAH.)

Moving on…(ha!  Get it??  Moving?  God, I’m hilarious!)

Tate left Monday to start his new job and prior to his departure I was very worried about how I was going to be able to handle my two zoo-like wild children on top of all the stress.   “Ohs noes!  How ever will I do it alone?!  It cannot be done!  It cannot be done!  Woe is me.”

Writing this next sentence is probably going to condemn me to a life of vomit/tantrum/diarrhea/no sleep hell tomorrow surely, but!!!  This week has been surprisingly easy.

Possibly because I know that I don’t have reinforcements showing up, I’m freakishly calm and patient with the kids.  So far this week, I’ve had to take two children two and under to the BMV (B???) to get my license plate.  It was the easiest trip ever and my children…behaved.  Then I lost a filling in one of my teeth and had to arrange childcare and find a dentist and schedule an appointment.  Everything fell into place thanks to two of my neighbors and it turned out that I hadn’t actually lost a filling.

My son has become a pogo stick, jumping up and down at every attempt to dress or undress him.  Normally I’d be sweating and cursing under my breath and saying (yelling) things like, “CARSON.  ENOUGH.  Stop jumping right now or I’ll take away all of your trains and feed you to wolves.”  There would be lots of wrinkle inducing nose scrunching and eyebrow furrowing.  And eye rolling.  And huffing.   (There wouldn’t really be mention of being eaten by wolves.  Uh.  Yeah.)

But instead I find myself gentler and smiling and not allowing this annoying stage to get the worst of me.   I haven’t freaked out when Ella throws her entire tray of food on my just mopped floors.  My house is cleaner, the TV hasn’t babysat, and I’ve made lots of “progress” on our impending move.   And oddly, despite Tate getting to socialize and eat out every night, I don’t feel resentful or overworked for being the stay-at-home parent.

I’m not sure what being a better single parent says about my parenting abilities or mental state, but I’ll take the “good mommy” me over the “BAD mommy” me anyday.

**********

I’d like to thank each of you who has offered sympathy and encouragement to me as a result of our move to Tennessee.  To answer a few questions we are moving to East Tennessee, we’ve lived there before, and my husband is in management for a company and apparently he’s pretty good at his job so they keep asking him to help at other plants.

A trip to Wrigley

Tate and I are huge Cardinals fans.  For those of you who don’t know, one of the Cardinals’ biggest rivals is the Chicago Cubs.

Although it would be a cold day in hell before I’d ever root for the Cubs, I do have the utmost respect for their stadium…Wrigley Field. Two weeks ago, we got to go to a game between the Cards and Cubs at Wrigley.   It sounds totally cheesy, but it was a dream come true to get to go to Wrigley Field.  SO THRILLING!!!!
chicago cubs

wrigley field

Without Cathy, this trip never would have happened…so THANK YOU, Cathy!
me and cathy

Cathy did all the very nerve wracking legwork to get the tickets, complete with desperate emails between us.  Where should we sit???  OMG, they are SO EXPENSIVE!!!  Right field side or left field side?????  For some reason it never occurred to either of us to just exchange phone numbers.   Don’t let the $22 price on the ticket fool you, we paid DEARLY for the tickets on StubHub.  (It was worth EVERY penny, though.)
chicago cubs

Not only did I get to meet Cathy, I also got to meet Mandie.  She met us for lunch on the Magnificent Mile.
me, amanda, cathy

Before the game, we sat and had a beer (or five) with Harry Caray himself.
j and harry

and the heavens smiled upon the ample beer consumption

Sadly my beloved Cardinals lost to the stinky ol’ Cubs. But on a positive note, we drank LOTS more beer, Old Style OF COURSE. (Also sadly, I regretted the last 5 beers that I drank the next morning.)
old style

The second best part of the trip was that I got to fall in love with this goofy guy all over again. It was wonderful to have him all to myself.
chicago cubs

This was my first time participating in Photo Story Friday!

PhotoStory Friday
Hosted by Cecily and MamaGeek

Means to an end

My 30 days of free camera glory and all it’s unadulterated goodness are just about up and after much ADO, I’m keeping the camera.

About two weeks ago, Tate informed me that he really “couldn’t tell any difference between pictures taken with THAT camera *insert irritated huffing here* and our perfectly good, just bought less than a year ago camera.”  He went on to say other things about money and computer space and Snapfish, but all I heard was:

“WE’RE NOT BUYING THAT CAMERA.”

Oh the blog posts I composed in my head!  They were filled full of hateful words and threats.   I would just get my OWN job and make my OWN money, damnit!  How DARE he make me feel like a child asking her daddy for money!

Days upon days I stewed over this injustice.  I could barely speak to Tate, let alone be in the same room with him (naked).  Several days later was our anniversary.  To say that I was less than enthused for the day was an understatement.  I even wrote a post about memories from our wedding day on our anniversary just so that I’d remember that I did actually love him (at least at one time).

So on our anniversary, Tate surprised me by coming home in the middle of the day to bring me roses and a card.  Inside the card was a little homemade gift certificate for a camera lens.

I stared at the card in disbelief.  “Well…don’t I have to have a camera, first???”

Apparently silent treatments and no nookie is the key to getting what I want.  I’m not sure if I’m actually comfortable using my womanly prowess for such endeavors and getting goods in exchange, but I really, really, really wanted that camera.

I guess the end justified the means THIS TIME.

Tate got what he wanted out of the deal, too.  *AHEM*  So it’s not all bad??  Right? 

***

halp!  Can anyone give me any ideas on what lens to get??  I borrowed and 18-200mm lens from Anne Glamore and then I rented a 50mm lens…but I’m still not sure what to get.  I really want something versatile and I love bokeh.  Suggestions PUH-LEASE!

Seven Memories

Photobucket

Today Tate and I celebrate our seven year anniversary.  

On the morning of July 14, 2001, I woke up very early, unable to go back to sleep due to the anticipation of this long awaited day.  I went down to the hotel lobby to have breakfast.  My dad happened to be in the lobby, so he and I ate breakfast together.  Sitting there with just my dad before my big day is one of my favorite memories from the day.

Later that morning, I saw my grandpa.  He asked me if I knew that July 14th was also my grandmother’s birthday, she’d passed away when I was just a young child.  I hadn’t known that our wedding date was also her birthday, making the day that much more special. 

When the doors of the church opened, Tate looked like he was going to cry.  I’ve asked him many times since if it was because of my breathtaking beauty or his nerves…of course, he always answers correctly.  It was all I could do not to ugly cry as I walked down the aisle.

At our reception, I told the DJ that I did not want to hear any music by AC/DC or Rush, two of my most detested bands.  It didn’t matter if one of the reception guests requested to hear one of their songs, he was supposed to tell them that he’d add it to his list but then never get to it.  He respected my wishes.  Smart DJ.

We served a buffet dinner, which sadly I barely remember.  I know I ate, I know that we had prime rib, but I don’t even recall if it was good.  So sad to not even remember the food.  I love reminiscing about food.  What’s even more sad though, is that I only got one bite of wedding cake.  I told Tate prior to the wedding that if he smeared cake in my face, he’d pay dearly.  Tate respected my wishes.  Smart Tate.

We decided that getting a limo to drive us to our hotel where we’d spend our wedding night would be silly.  To save money, my mom drove us to our hotel.  I remember laughing as she dropped us off, knowing what we were getting ready to go do for the VERY FIRST TIME.  *ahem* 

Tate carried me over the threshold.  Thinking about that makes my heart flutter. 

A wedding is just one day out of a marriage, but ours was a WONDERFUL day to BEGIN our marriage.  I had no doubt in my mind that I was making the right choice.  I still have no doubt that Tate is my one and only.