Married to Perfection

Evidently I need a great deal of alone time in order to write anything at all. This thought occurred to me last night when, once again, I sat down to write just as someone came upstairs to watch TV. Our family computer is in the center of family life, as per conventional wisdom. This is irritating in the extreme.
In order to write, I need Norah Jones, who is my muse. This is kind of creepy, I know. I love her music, and I never grow tired of her. Which, actually, hints at another one of my idiosyncrasies. There is almost no creativity or spontaneity in my appreciation of pop culture. Do you know that I would rather see a movie I already have seen a hundred times, than to watch something new? I read the same books until they've worn to tatters, ad nauseam. It's just how I am.

There has been almost no alone time in my life lately. Partly this is because I have children still living at home. Children always sense when a parent is about to have a quiet moment, and this is when they swoop in with an overwhelming need for deep and time consuming intimate conversation.

Mostly, I can blame Tim for my constant companionship. Bless him.
Many wives have husbands who run off to lucrative employment for many hours of the week, which contributes to housework productivity, ladies luncheons, and contemplative reflection. This is not my situation. You'll recall that Tim took a sabbatical from working for a number of years, including the first two years of our marriage. This was a glorious age, not unlike an extended honeymoon, only with teenagers.  Then he went back to the workforce, a radical alteration in our marital bliss, which I addressed with some trepidation Here.  As I so sagely predicted at that time, I grew wider as he energetically grew more streamlined. This continued until the end of November, when he decided to pursue another brief period of sabbatical while perusing the job market....which he is still doing. He's been home full-time ever since. We have lots of fun together. It's a good thing, too. We have lots and lots of Togetherness.

Can I just tell you that none of my girlfriends are able to grasp quite what I am dealing with, here? It's hard to be me. This man of mine does Everything. He cooks, every meal. He shops. He cleans. He answers in the affirmative to any question the children put to him. He makes the bed, does laundry, he does yard work. He does everything better than me. The kids like him way more than me.
I pretty much have no role in life anymore.
I'm an accessory.
I joke, but it's actually really been kind of a crisis of purpose in me. No one even musters up sympathy for me when I complain. So, I can't be a decent housewife, I can't effectively complain, and I'm having real trouble blogging.
It's tough to be me.

During our first couple years of marriage, I really liked having Tim home all the time. "Being pampered" is what I called it. I wrote a little nugget on the topic Here.
In trying to account for the radical difference, the one thing that stands out is that I have claimed this household as my own fiefdom in the years since he first went back to work. Now he has stripped me of my own domain. That's it, I think. Gosh, you wouldn't think I'd have such the devil of a time adapting.

See how I am? Such an ungrateful brat.
I do feel better for writing about it. Thanks for listening.
You won't tell, will you?

Sleeping Together

I like sleeping with my husband, really, I do. There is simply one element of that sublime pastime regarding which I should like to register complaint. I am distressed about the amount of time spent, um, sleeping. Don't get me wrong! This is not a blog post about sex. 

So, there I was, just the other night, drifting into the wonder of slumber when I began to ponder...
I spend roughly eight hours each night curled up next to my favorite person in the world. Doesn't it seem a shame that this time is spent unconscious? Truly. Think this thorough with me for a minute. If I could spend all that lovely time with the man I adore, and be fully cognizant of his presence...!
If we were awake with our favorite person, and silent, relaxed, and sleeping in our dealings with the rest of the world, I imagine that the universe would be a happier place.

I'm just sayin', it seems backwards.

The fact that it seems backwards to me makes me consider that I'm missing something. Now, besides the obvious fact that I can't really conduct business, raise a family, or clean the house while dozing, I wonder God arranged life so that the majority of my marriage is spent comatose. It seems decidedly unfair.

Maybe part of the reason is because that time in repose refuels my soul, as well as my physical self. Maybe the Sabbath that is a good night's rest is most effective in the arms of the One Who Cares most for me. Maybe there is something to learn here about Who God is; So much of marriage reveals Him. The rest and the trust implicit in the act of sleeping side-by-side breeds an intimacy that is very functional during the waking hours. When I've connected with my love, and relaxed in his presence, I am equipped to face the challenges of the outside world.
Ah!
That's quite beautiful. That's Sabbath in a language that resonates with me. Silence and Peace in the arms of One with Whom I share an intimacy so deep, that action is not neccessary.
Sweet dreams.

Rockin the kitchen

In the mornings, I sit in bed to read my bible, my email, and my blog before I face the day. It's a peaceful, reflective time for me. I sip my decaff in the quiet.

Tim, who starts his new job next week, is in the kitchen doing dishes. He is also blaring Justin Timberlake "Bringin Sexy Back." Not just every man would clean a kitchen to this album at 8:30 in the morning. The "sexy, sexy, pump that body" lyrics are impeding my prayerful sense of peace. However, they certainly make me smile. I think it's a crack-up that my refined man jams to a dance beat.

I would have done the dishes last night, but the evening got away from us. We went to a lacrosse game in which Aaron was playing and Tim was coaching. We got home rather late, and didn't manage to eat dinner until 8:30. The dishwasher was already full of dirty dishes, so I left the dinner dishes for my Disco Man's Morning Routine. Actually, I envisioned myself getting to them this morning....what was I thinking?

We've been relishing each day as though it were our last. Tim and I have gone out to lunch, bought stuff at the mall, spent lazy afternoons...all in anticipation of losing these unstructured days together. Two years of spending every moment together has been a treat for which I am most grateful. For a couple starting out late in life, it's been the best possible scenario. It's allowed us to develop our relationship beyond the typical two-year marriage, I think. I know him better than I would have if he'd been at work every day.

Now, of course, we get to adjust to a whole new way of life. That's something we've been thinking about a lot. I really like my husband, dang it. I'd prefer to keep him home with me. But, I wish he'd turn the music down.

The growing pains of change

My husband is leaving me for a job. He actually got hired, and will venture out one day this week to begin his new career. We're not sure which day he'll start, so here we hang in anticipation.
Tim, my husband, is a slender fellow. He is one of those eaters who is perfectly content with one helping at dinner. If he's not quite full, he simply decides to eat again later, if he gets around to it. I, on the other hand, don't consider dinner Eaten unless I am full to bursting.
Tim forgets to eat during the day when he's busy. I remember to eat every time I pass the kitchen.
Tim doesn't really snack. He will prepare an entire meal, consume a little, and be perfectly satisfied. To watch me graze, you'd think I live in fear of an impending food shortage.
Which brings me, eventually, to my point.
With him working all day, he's going to forget to eat on a regular basis. This will make him thinner. If he gets thinner, I will look larger. It is a husband's responsibility to be more substantial than his wife at all times! I firmly believe this. Perhaps "firmly" is an ill-chosen adjective.
Being trapped in a house with my offspring all day is going to make me eat more. This does not bode well for my figure, nor for my self esteem. Clearly, Tim is at fault here. If he would stay home and pamper me, then I wouldn't have to worry about such things.
Worry isn't good for me, either, and it tends to make me shop.

Currently, I am sitting in bed with my netbook on my lap, whilst my handsome husband lifts weights in the garage. Who is serious about keeping their weight in line, eh?

I'm actually kind of excited about this new phase in life. I don't relish the daily separation from Tim, but it's going to be new and different. My vision includes an efficiently run household, and a vigorous work-out schedule. Perhaps lunch with the ladies now and then. In fact, I may have time to actually have girlfriends again. Ever since being married, my friendships have rather suffered. It's a shame, because I have some fantastic girlfriends.
My goodness, there is bound to be much to write about, what with all the change and eating and friends. When will I ever have time to parent?

Domesticity, two views

It's slow going without coffee, and no mistake. Decaff provides a convenient illusion, but it sure doesn't help me to spring from my bed.
I have a headache this morning from a new medication I'm on. Once one has a diagnosis, there are wheels that begin turning in the wide world of doctoring. One encounters more medical interference, and not less. It's a function of being Over 40, I guess.

Tim and I are relishing the days this week, because he's going to go back to work. For the past 5 years he's been on a sabbatical from gainful employment. He chose to leave work in order to be Super Dad to his kids after his first wife died, but he always knew he'd go back to work one day. Now that day has come.

He's been looking for a job for the past couple of weeks, and we've been talking a lot about what changes we'll see once he is no longer home all day. I will have to do some work around the house, perhaps. For instance, I will have to get my own decaff in the morning, instead of having it sweetly delivered to me in bed. How shall I cope?

It's been such a treat to have him home all the time. Our marriage has been like a really long date. We do everything in tandem. I like him, a lot. I like his company and his humor, I love that he works so hard, and I have, frankly, loved being spoiled. Our situation has made marriage very easy.

So, I'm curious to see what this new phase will be like. In truth, I am both excited about this new adventure, and a little wistful at the thought of the end of an era. Now, I get to move into June Cleaver mode. I shall bake and wear pearls. See if I don't! My house will always be clean, my children will always be happy, and I will always have fresh lipstick on when my handsome husband sails through the door in the evening.
Tim has been teasing me with a reverse image. He's painted me as a chain-smoking, soap-opera-watching, white-trash who screams at her kids. I'll tie a handkerchief over my unwashed hair and kick the dog. This, I find to be a very amusing image.

Change is around the corner. I don't mind, though. Life with this man is a joy, so I can only imagine that new circumstances will simply reveal new aspects of that.
Once my headache goes away, I'll be downright cheerful about potential change. Until then, I'll see if Tim will refill my coffee cup, so I don't have to get out of bed.

How does your garden grow?

We always go grocery shopping on Fridays, because we are People of Habit. Not "habit", as in blogging regularly, but "habit" in a looser sense.
We go to a succession of stores, depending on the weekly advertisements. We visit a few stores so that Tim can do his shopping, and use his vast selection of coupons. Sometimes he lets me push the cart.
Other times, like this week, I simply sip my Starbuck's and gaze adoringly at him while he does all the work. It is my job to look nice and keep him company.
So, there we were in the meat isle (meat market?)
An elderly lady with a mischevious smile approached me and said,
"My dear, I learned something forty years ago:
There are tulips in the garden and
there are tulips in the park
but the tulips that I like
are the two lips in the dark!"
She sagely patted my arm and moved slowly away. I stood there watching her leave while I laughed out loud. Tim glanced 'round from his steaks to ask, "Did you make a new friend?"
I said, "Yes, I suppose I did. She must have noticed something about the way I look at you." And I told him her little rhyme.
It must be true what they say, that wisdom comes with age, because that lady was right on. Tulips are fantastic!

Today

The Red decorations are down, and the tree is in pieces by the trash in the back yard. I am soooo over Christmas. Love to get that taken down ASAP.

Tonight at dinner, we lingered by the candlelight, long after we'd finished eating. We were drinking a really excellent white wine, since fish was the main course. I love fish. Tim is a great cook. Have I mentioned that I have not cooked dinner once since being married? I am way spoiled.
We lingered because we were talking. Tim and I get into these robust and vigorous conversations that escape the clock. We talk for the longest time.
I'll tell you, I love being loved by this man. He makes me feel like an exotic treasure.
But the friendship is one of my favorite elements here. He seems to genuinely like me, and that makes me feel like a Person. He acts like he thinks I am smart, and funny, and interesting. Maybe he does. Weird.
I'm liking this a lot; This relationship is a blast. Do you know, we still haven't argued? We've been married only 4 months, but we've been friends for nearly 3 years. I love that we don't fight. It's peaceful and effortless to be Us.

We're shopping for carpet. Our bedroom is in need of something fresh upon the floor, as our canine has a vomiting issue. We got samples of carpet today from the Home Depot. I was trying to talk him into hardwood flooring. I have always wanted it, myself. We got the price quote, though, and we both said, "I love carpet, actually!" Wood is pricey.
So, now it's a question of color. We both like the chocolate brown, and also the dusty blue. I'll bet we go with the brown.
We are also toying with a patio enclosure. That would go so nicely with the new patio heater, and also with the cigar smoking.

I'm happy. You know? Happier than I ever dreamed of being.
Pinch me.

Blurred lines

I wore an Ivory twinset to church, with jeans. They are long jeans, that accommodate heels very nicely. When I wear my brown boots, I am only a couple inches shorter than my husband. It changes my perspective, being taller. I can look him in the eye.

When the lights were dimmed at church, as we were singing, Tim and I sat shoulder to shoulder, as we always do. Shoulders- pressed- together feels like holding hands, for all I can feel his thoughts thru the connection.
He was wearing ivory, too. A sweater.

I chuckled in a momentary thought, that the colors and the fabrics were so similar that I could not tell where I ended and he began.
So often, in an epiphany like that, the thought congeals so quickly. I realized that the blurred line between us is exactly the point. It's where we're headed. As a new couple, we are, perhaps, in an accelerated growth phase. Maybe we won't always change so rapidly. But the direction in which we're moving is toward Oneness. There should be a day, down the road, when I can't really see where he begins, and I end.

Every time I see some new truth about marriage, I wonder how it applies to the analogy of Christ and the church. Because I'm really holy that way.

What if my relationship with my Lord was such that it was growing toward a unified oneness? What if I got to a point with Him that I could not be at all sure when I ended and He began? That would pretty stunning. I'd probably be so amazing that I could board a chariot of flame, and ride straight through the gates of Glory. But, that kind of Oneness is also the goal, isn't it? That's where I want to be headed.

Marriage, once again, serves as a picture of the design God has for His Romance with me. The Bride of Christ. Make it so, Lord.

Oh, Gag me with a spoon. Or: How to make your wife feel like a treasure

All these years I have lived without a bunch of things that now center my general happiness. How ever did I make it?

I know I keep telling you about how nauseatingly happy I am, but it's quite true. Perhaps you will look deep into your marriage and find that new life can be breathed into it...or else you can pour a large mixed drink and go read another blog.
But, as I was saying.....

I like sleeping with a window open at night, rather than locking the house up like a tomb so no stranger will break in and kill me in the night.

I like that when I wake unexplicably in the night, there is a warm and friendly body near who keeps all my fears away, even while he's sound asleep.


I like that I wake in the arms of someone who thanks God for me every day...in my hearing.

I like that he doesn't get mad at me. Ever.

I like that my car gets filled with gas every week....even when I don't realize I'm on empty.

I like that unexpected eye-contact in the middle of the day always makes my breathe catch.

I like that bills get paid, and I don't have to worry.

I like that he looks at me, touches me, and talks to me, as if I have the best figure, most amazing hair, and brilliant mind in the world.

I like that the yard work gets done, and not by me.

I like that dinner is planned a week ahead, and that he always cooks....and that he enjoys my company at the grocery store, even though I am largely useless.

I am so happy. And also spoiled.

What?
Sorry. It's all true, though.

Rewind

My long over-due pictures are finally here for you to see. There is some question as to whether anyone still reads this blog, but whatever.
On the 14th of August, I was married to that one guy I've had a crush on for so long.

This is me and my daughter-to-be. Yes, I really use curlers. Did you think my hair was naturally curly?



Kara came to be our slave. See her laboring over Faline's hair?
No curlers, there.





Check out how happy we are in white....




Michael was the best man. I think I told you that already. Look at how grown-up he looks:








"You may kiss the bride"


Don was the photographer.


Mr. and Mrs.

Why blog?

Blink
blink
blink


The curser is just blinking at me atop an empty page. It's been doing so for days.

It's not that I have little to say, but rather that there seems to be too much.

Life is immesureably sweet just now, and the observations that I would offer to you are more exquisite than might be easily believed.
I could tell you of the minor irritations of daily life, and those make for fine humor.

It's a quandry.

I still like Tim, in case you were wondering. Marriage is fun.

The kids are doing normal kid type stuff, and they are the focus of most of what we do.

I was thinking that marriage in the middle of one's life is something I must highly recommend. It's just easier to figure out how to love someone else, when you are well aquainted with yourself.
We're doing well. Better than I had expected. Blending these two families is a rich and varied challenge, but one that seems to be managable.
My friend Asia would no doubt love to see all that's going on here. As would any family counselor. But, it's working.

In other news,
Have you ever stubbornly clung to a guilty conscience? It's lots of fun, in a self-mutilation sort of way.
I did that quite recently.
I had a sin to confess (not a very interesting one, so don't get all excited. And, no, I am not going to tell you what it was.)
I didn't want to confess, though. So the blasted nagging in my head grew louder and louder. It became one of those things where every time I turned on the radio, the issue was being proclaimed....when I closed my eyes, I thought of it...I had no peace at all. It was very irritating to be me.
Like so many of those things, I had made it way bigger than it needed to be. The moment I confessed, it turned out to be no big deal at all. I carried that around for 5 months, (because I am stubborn, and also an idiot), and it was no issue for the person I felt I had wronged.

Personally, I am ready for a second honeymoon. No, not because of that. I want to get away. I'm going to go look at Southwest.com

In which I speak of God....and also Tim

I'm not writing very much, but there's a lot on my mind.

One thing that strikes me lately, is the whole function of marriage. There are a gazillion things about it that I am thinking about. God designed this to model His relationship with His people, and that's an intimate picture.

One of the things I notice about the way Tim loves me, is that he delights simply in having me near. I think there's something of God in that. Tim likes to know that I am choosing him above anyone else, and that I am always accessible to him. Don't you think that God maybe feels that way, too? What if God takes a manly delight in having his bride close enough to touch? If God wants to know that if He has something to say, His bride will be within listening range? Gosh, I don't usually think about God as being heart-warmed by my presence.

Tim covers me with a veil of protection that I am aware of, even when he's not in the house. His responsibility for me, and commitment to me, are constant and reliable. Why do I so seldom realize that these attributes are true of God, too?

There is an intimacy in understanding and communication, between Tim and I, that I think God also means to have with me. What if I could know what God was thinking from a glance, so to speak?

Marriage is really powerful. I do not understand it, yet.
What I do know, is that I have never been so loved.
Or, rather, that I have grossly underestimated God's love for me.

Thursday's drivel

For years, there was no reason to shave. Razors are irritating little things, and in so many ways. The irritate my skin, my budget, and my schedule. It's become an important part of my day, though. If stubble is allowed to accumulate on my legs, I will be neither pretty, nor smooth. And so I shave. I have several friends who shower twice weekly. I can't figure out how they do it. Perhaps that's because I'm still fairly new to sharing my self with a man in such close proximity. Perhaps poor hygeine gets easier over time.
I'm still complaining about being tired, though no one is paying much attention to my whining anymore. God never intended for me to function on a mere six hours of sleep a night. Yesterday, I fell asleep on the couch in the living room, with my husband and children talking to me. They tiptoed out and let me sleep for an hour.

Tonight, I have to attend a football game at 4 and a volleyball game at 6:30. I'm a serious parent now that I have four kids. I cheer on more sports teams in a week than Brett Favre does in 5 years. It's crazy. How did these kids turn out to be so dang athletic anyway?
Crud. Now I have to go.
More another time....

As I was on my way to Michael's room...

It's really hard to think of things to say here when I get out of the habit of writing.
I'm tired from too little sleep. Growing fat from too many eats. Deleriously happy from being in love. Marriage is lots of fun.
Also, I am learning to golf. Rather, I am learning how Not to swing a golf club. It seems cruely wrong that smaking a tiny white ball should be so technical. I suck at it.
Now that I'm not a welfare mom anymore, I drive a BMW, and golf. Tim bought me my own clubs and a glove-thingy to wear. I look like Michael Jackson, armed with a club.
I have four kids now. Have you heard? Bedtime is my favorite time of day. The oldest and youngest go to bed about 9:30, and the middle two have lights-out at 10. Ten O'clock is when I pour a glass of wine, and put on my music. From the time my feet hit the floor in the morning, until the kids retire, I am mostly running. Well, except now, since I am blogging. I'd actually like a nap, but I can't sqeeze it in.
I came upstairs to make Michael's bed and clean his room. See how I got derailed at the computer? Michael is least capable of keeping his room clean. It's quite a distinction around here.
I'd better get back to it.

For Pete's sake

Clearly, I have undergone a significant life change. It's affecting my ability to blog. That, however, is about the only complaint I have. Otherwise, all is going swimingly.
This past weekend was The Party of the Year. We had our reception, complete with out-of-town family, long lost friends, and catering. I had convinced Tim to leave the pool uncovered for this occation. It's so pretty when it's uncovered. Every teenager at the party, (and there were not a few), ended up in the swimming pool, fully- clothed. Now that I think about it, that was better than it could have been. They could have stripped for the occasion, and that would have been worse. Personally, I found screaming wet teenagers to be quite festive, if somewhat unexpected and damp.
My wedding dress got ruined at the party, which was less upsetting than it sounds. I was sitting on a piece of patio furniture, whose back legs were unfortunately settling into soft soil. The decent was abrupt, and it precipitated my baptism in a very drinkable red wine. Alas. I liked that dress.
There were people at that party from all over the span of my life and Tim's. There were people I haven't seen in years. One really should host a party like this from time to time. It's like a "This is Your Life" TV show. Remember that? You don;t really need to wait until next time you get married, though. Have a party now. I have about 3 cases of wine left over. And rather too much of the catering. You people didn't eat nearly enough.

As I was walking through the happy haze of matrimony

I'm really tired. I was remembering fondly what quiet, and alone-time, feel like. My glass slippers are still in place, it's just that there are so many Televisions and children on all the time around here. We only have four between us. Kids, that is. We have way more TVs than that. It's a lot of stimulation.

Don asked me today why I am so very tired.
"What have you been doing all night?" He blithely queried.
Michael rolled his eyes so grotesquely, that I feared he might damage himself.

I'm tired. The ice maker is stil noisy all night, there's still a man in my space, and the aforementioned man needs about an hour and a half of sleep each night to function. I need 10 to 12.

Marriage is great. We get so much done, the two of us. You can't imagine how much housework is getting done. And also child-shuffling. Moving and feeding younglings is a big part of our daily routine.
Neither can you imagine how far behind I am on, oh, everything. I owe phone calls, thank you cards, and emails. I'm a loser. A tired loser.

And Dani, I have a card for you at home. No, really.
Back in June, at my birthday, everyone kept telling me that they had a card for me at home. It became kind of funny, really. In truth, I am usually the one who throws myslef a huge old party. This year, with the whole hospital stay and everything, I sort of cancelled my birthday. Now I've cancelled Dani's and also Bentley's. If your birthday has not performed according to your expectations this year, it is likely my fault. Sorry about that.

I was going to say something else. It was probably going to be really funny. I just can't remember what it was. Dang it.
I'll let you know if it occures to me.

Matrimony, Day 5

I particularly loved the way my last post was articulate, spelled corretly, and informative. Clearly marriage has addled my brain.
Being married to a muscle machine means that my mornings are filled with protein and physical exertion. The home gym helps. I may be flabby today, but soon I expect I'll look like Barbie for real.
The kids are having a blast. Michael is training like a machine, himself, with two-a-day football practice. Don is mostly watching TV, when he's not begging to have Austin come over. His football practice begins tomorrow, so I expect his life to change radically. The other two are not reallyfinding their lives altered all that much, I suppose.
I'm finding myself to be quite sleep deprived. Tim needs an average of an hour and a half of sleep every day, and I need something closer to ten. Moving always makes it weird to fall asleep. Here, I am in new surroundings, in a strange bed, and right next to another human being. Plus, the ice maker in the fridge is really loud at night. Last night I think I passed out from sheer exhaustion.
That's what coffee is for, right?
I like marriage, still, which is promising. I went to jump in the car this morning to pick Michael up from practice, and found that Tim had filled the gas tank when I wasn't looking. That's a glorious thing. I hate the gas station. Plus, my Grandpa always filled the gas tank for Granny for years and years. So, in my mind I associate that act of kindness with a stellar husband.
Plus, he always brings me coffee in bed.
And he cooks dinner every night.
Hate me yet?
Life is sweet.