Husband picked the wrong week to work my last nerve.
A few evenings ago we had one of those one-for-the-ages fights. At least for us. It may be considered tame to some, but we don’t do this very often.
We’re crappy at it. I suppose that is a good thing.
Here’s the recap:
Me: “What’s your problem?” (after watching him sulk on the couch for an hour)
Husband: “You don’t listen to me.”
Me: “Well, should we talk about how unattentive and insensitive you can be?”
Husband: “Whatever. You’re on that damn computer all the time.”
Me: “I better not hear ‘whatever’ again. When I’m on the computer I’m getting something done. When was the last time you paid a bill? That’s what I’m doing when I’m on the computer, paying bills online and working. You’re lazy. I keep finding those damn cardboard toilet paper thingies piled up next to the bathroom sink. Use the damn garbage can.”
Husband: “Your shit is everywhere.”
Me: “Don’t get me started on your shit. God you can be a jerk.”
Husband: “Whatever.” (Insert his obnoxious eye roll here)
Me: “Like I said. JERK.”
I don’t even remember exactly how it started, other than he was bugging the living shit out of me.
The ensuing silence and tension between us was beyond uncomfortable. And we had plans that night for a romantic dinner. The last thing I wanted to do was go. In fact, I assumed the plans were off. After what was said I could not imagine sitting across from him at a table in a crowded restaurant for even a second. I expected him to feel the same toward me.
I really wanted it to be over. I was desperate to make up.
But I don’t always move on so easily.
Once again, Husband stepped up and decided to be the grown up. After one miserable hour of me giving him the silent treatment, he asked me when I was going to start getting ready.
“Seriously?” I said.
“I still want to go. Nothing has changed, at least to me,” he said quietly. “This doesn’t feel good. And I don’t want to feel this way anymore. I want to be normal again.”
I managed to smile. The truth was I wanted to get back to being us, too. Because we do “us” pretty damn well. I just don’t always know what to do and feel to get there. Just add it to my neverending list of things I need to work on. Anger never makes any situation better.
With that brief exchange all was forgiven and forgotten.
At the restaurant the food was extra delicious, the ambience especially romantic. He flattered me incessantly and told me how lovely I looked. I humored him and listened intently, pretending like every word out of his mouth was brilliant (he needs this sometimes). The woman at the table next to us thought we were annoying.
Hours later we were on our way home, heading west and witnessing the setting sun against the clouds. Another day gone. Another opportunity to love and be loved. The sky morphed from purple to smoky gray. He reached over and gave my hand a gentle squeeze, and I felt so grateful.
For his companionship.
For his acceptance.
But most of all for peace.
And for loving each other enough to let go and move on.
Photo Source (couple): http://blushingapples.tumblr.com/
Photo Source (love): http://weheartit.com/
Today isn’t the easiest day for me.
This is my second Father’s Day without my dad.
And to add to the sadness of this day, when he was alive things were not always harmonious between us.
Yes, there were good times. There was love and humor, forgiveness and understanding. I am grateful for those moments and memories.
Today I choose to focus on the good things.
I choose love.
And I know where he is, he chooses the good things, too.
Happy Father’s Day to all the fathers out there, conventional and otherwise.
Who know the true meaning of what being a “dad” is all about.
Whether your children have two legs or four.
Whether you are a father or father figure.
Remember you are loved, appreciated and deserving on this day.
Thank you for all you do,
for the betterment of those you love and for the world.
Last Monday, I woke up and made my way to the kitchen. The house was so quiet. The usual and busy Monday morning feel just wasn’t there. There would be no good morning kiss, or conversation over coffee. On the kitchen table I found a card, left for me by Husband. Inside it read “In you, I’ve found the love of my life and my closest truest friend.” And then right below was a handwritten message from him meant only for my eyes. Sweet and totally unexpected.
My heart went all aflutter. And I felt so ridiculously loved.
He left in the middle of the night, heading out of town on business for a full six days. When he told me about this trip several weeks before, I was practically giddy at the prospect. That may sound terrible. But if I do nothing else sharing my life here, I will always keep it real and honest.
Let me put it this way. It certainly doesn’t break my heart when he decides to go skiing or hiking for the day, preferring the company of his friends over mine when he partakes in said activities. And I won’t shed a tear when he tells me he wants to leave and go climb mountains for a week.
Hell, to put it bluntly, I flat out love it when he’s gone.
I have always been the type of person who periodically needs space. I have never made apologies for it, and I certainly won’t start now. And Husband is aware of this. He doesn’t share my affinity for solitude, but he doesn’t take it personally, either. It is what it is, and I am what I am. Better to be honest in my marriage than pretend to be someone I’m not, or feel something I don’t.
So here I was, six days with the house to myself. I wanted to relish the freedom. I excitedly thought about all the stuff I was going to do, things that I’m not exactly 100% comfortable doing when my mate is hanging around. Like eating whatever I darn well please, and staying up all night writing, reading, or watching crappy tv if I want to. Crazy long baths and mani-pedis. And not shaving my legs. Well, truthfully that one only sounds good in theory. I always end up grossing myself out and shaving like a mad woman whether my man is around or not. But you get the point.
It all sounded like a dream come true, and it was for the first few days. I did all of the things I wanted to do. I had cinnamon rolls and potato chips for dinner. I stayed up until 2 watching cheesy Lifetime movies. I took an hour long bath without him knocking on the door to check on me. I painted my toes once and fingers twice. And I did shave my legs, even though it was nice having the option not to.
And then it just didn’t feel all that special anymore. I wanted things back to the way they were. It was agony knowing I had to wait two more days for that to happen.
The feeling of freedom made way for longing. Longing for him and everything he is to me. I missed him to the point of tears. I wanted the feel of his hands on me, the sensation of his hugs and gentle kisses, because I was feeling sad and lonely and really needed them. I wanted to get back to our conversations and how we both love laughing at the very same things. I wistfully read my card over and over again, knowing he meant every word he said.
Because truth be told, I am my best and happiest when he’s around. If I had to finally choose between him or having my space, I unequivocally choose this man I married.
He would be home soon enough. And I knew this experience would not change my love for my own space and solitude. But the age old saying is very true.
Absence clearly does make the heart grow fonder.
“What sir, would the people of the earth be without Woman? They would be scarce, sir, almighty scarce.”
Mine is a life of many joys and blessings. But like everyone else, there is the reality of hopes not realized.
It is unlikely that I will have children. Because of my health it is riskier for me than it is for most. Adoption? Not certain for the very same reason.
I am a mother in one sense. I do have two beautiful, perfect four-legged babies. Being a dog mommy may not qualify in the eyes of some. I stand by the assertion. Love is, after all, just that. Love.
But not having children in the conventional sense, I can’t help but feel I will always have some unfinished business. All my fabulous, feminine inner workings won’t have the chance to bring forth the wonder of life. I won’t feel that miracle grow within me. Circumstances preclude me from adding to my family in other ways. I am sometimes scared that as a woman, it will feel like something is always missing.
Despite everything, I also know I came into the world just as I was meant to. If I wasn’t me, if it all didn’t unfold as it was intended, I would not have known the joy of being a daughter.
I believe there are no accidents. The universe has a way of joining us with the people who are meant to shape us and make us who we are. The most precious blessing of my life is being my mother’s child. Aside from my husband, there is no one else on this earth I cherish more.
She is the kind of mom dreams are made of.
And her message is always simple.
It is one of love.
“Women’s liberation is just a lot of foolishness. It’s the men who are discriminated against. They can’t bear children. And no one is likely to do anything about that.”
My earliest years were the definition of idyllic, living in an island paradise. Finding puka shells on the beach. Watching sea turtles. Standing before the turquoise, limitless ocean. All the while my tiny hand in hers. Under her wing, always safe and loved.
My childhood was stable, yet growing up there were periods when happiness was elusive for me. Looking back, I knew all my life I wasn’t well. I tired easily. I always experienced pain. I was confused by every sensation, and scared of what it meant for my future. I felt isolated and unsure of myself around my friends. Relationships suffered, even at my young age.
I had the love, beauty and comfort of home to run to when life felt so uncertain. It was my solace. My mother made it that way. She tried to understand me in a way that only she could.
My pre-teen years seemed to be the epitome of girlhood awkwardness. Sometimes I thought it would never pass. Mom was always there to build up my struggling confidence. I would often sit back and study her, soaking in everything there was to know about my future years, being a woman. I coveted everything about her. Expressive brown eyes. Shiny espresso hair. Skin like a china doll. I watched how she moved, the curve of her hips, the femininity of her walk. How adult and sophisticated it all seemed. I was mesmerized.
Simply stated, she was stunning. But her womanly beauty aside, what I wanted most was a heart as big as hers, one that could let the whole world in. Her compassion for everyone and everything. Her selflessness and spirit. It was a tall order I was sure to not live up to.
I grew up. For a time I lived two hours away from her. Some may relish the comfortable distance. Not me. I missed her terribly. She would send me cards and photos, and I tacked them to my wall, always turning to them to grasp a sense of her love. Even though I am closer now, a mere three miles away, I almost obsessively hold on to the simplest things. A handwritten note. A movie ticket stub. A receipt from lunch we shared. Anything to keep memories alive and well. There can never be enough.
When we are together, extravagance isn’t required. It can be conversation at her kitchen table, or soy mochas as Starbucks. I hold on to every second. Each one is a gift.
She’s the mom who will provide anything I want and need, a generosity I don’t deserve for any particular reason. Other than for one profound yet simple fact: she loves me and wants me to be safe and happy.
“God could not be everywhere, so He created mothers.”
We are two different women in many ways. I don’t have an unrelenting faith in people or the world. I can be a bit cynical at times. Selflessness is not my strong suit. I don’t forgive easily. I can be terribly judgmental, mostly of myself. I am not proud of these things. But I am working on it every day.
From her I have learned what it means to be a loving person. That as scary as it is, it is ultimately worth it to open your heart. The alternative is tragic. From her I know that misguided judgment can be destructive. Consideration for others is everything. And forgiveness can heal. Every life she touches is changed in a positive way.
I have the blessing of her for a reason. And every day I recognize the significance of this, the magnitude of this gift. It shapes my every decision and behavior when I go out in the world. She is my light, my teacher, my confidante and friend. She can be counted on to remind me I am worth it. That I am beautiful. That I am deserving of all the great things life has to offer. That I am fearless. That I am loved.
I love you, Mom.
As you to say to me every chance you get, you are my moon and stars above.
Wishing you a beautiful Mother’s Day.
And for all the amazing, phenomenal moms out there, conventional or otherwise, I wish you a beautiful day as well.
Photo Source: http://weheartit.com/
When I saw this picture it literally took my breath away. It also made an otherwise not-so-hot-day a happy one. I couldn’t stop smiling. It’s the kind of smile you often see on a dreamy-eyed and hopeless romantic like me.
I have been considerably blessed in my life. I have a beautiful, supportive and loving family. I have seen amazing things. Dreams are coming true. And I have had that moment. When that one person looks at you, you look at them, and you share a love and understanding that is yours and yours alone.
It is the stuff of magic. To that person you are the world. And in turn they are the world to you.
I want my partner, my love to know exactly what he means to me. I don’t want another day to go by without him knowing the depths of my love for him.
Whatever decides to come my way, I will always believe in love and all the possibility it holds.
I hope you feel the same.
Photo Source: http://bippityboppityboo.tumblr.com/