Choosing to Grow- Through Marriage

The Book Speaks...

2011-03-26T08:25:00.000-07:00

I am not a book.

Ok, so maybe I am a book because I have real pages (or digital ones if you roll that way) and a beautifully inspirational cover. There are words splattered all over my pages, some of which you'll adore, others you may question, and others still with which you will completely disagree.
I guess I am a book, but I am more than that too.

I am hundreds of conversations, discussions, debates, tears, smiles, and frustrations. I am a picture of living rooms and coffee houses, dining room tables and libraries.

I am a journey: a transformation from desperation to joy.

I am all of those things, and I am not stagnant enough to be a book on a shelf. I am alive, and my conversation is far from over. There is more to be said, more to be heard, more to be transformed, and I am just a part of all that people are saying.

I guess I'm kindof like marriage in that way.

Marriage is a journey, frought with tears, smiles, frustrations and heartache. It is an ongoing conversation that is ever-evolving and individually unique.

We make a good match, marriage and me. We are alive and intertwined, and ready to embark on this journey together.

We do hope you'll join us!

If you are a facebook fan, you may like my daily conversation about marriage on my own site. Choosing to Grow: Through Marriage

If you like blog articles, my author, Meagan Frank, writes about marriage sometimes...but she gets distracted and writes about all sorts of other things too. Her blog is Choosing to Grow.

Oh yeah, I guess I should tell you where you can find copies of me. I am on the presses right now (most definitely an out-of-body experience). You can order autographed copies directly from Meagan.

Amazon.com is also carrying the books and the Kindle version is coming soon.

I want to thank TreasureLine Publishing for giving me life. They became a part of the conversation about a year ago, and they believe in where this conversation is going.

So much to be said, and so little time...

WANTED: CTG Hostesses

2011-01-18T08:52:00.000-08:00

JOIN THE PARTY!!

My favorite part about collecting information for the Choosing to Grow: Through Marriage book were the groups of women who gathered to talk with me.

The CTG groups ranged in size from four to fifteen women, and every discussion positively influenced my marriage. I hope to gather similarly-sized groups of people (it can be both men and women) to talk about some of the things I found in my research.

The presentation can be geared to the desires of the group, and the topics can vary. Some presentation topics include:

River Rafting through Marriage: How to Equip for Pitfalls
Surviving Children: Putting Marriage First
Finding the "I" in Marriage
How to Build the Safety Net: Fostering the Network of Friends and Married Couples

For any of the presentations, I would be willing to read a portion of the book, if that is of interest to the participants.

The book is due to be published in early March, and I can have books on hand if hostesses are willing to book the latter part of March and into April.

Mother's Day and the wedding season are right around the corner, so book a unique Bridal Shower presentation or a gab session for your busy mom friends.

I am willing to travel, if it is feasible. Minnesota and western Wisconsin bookings are possible through June 15th. I will be in Illinois March 11-March 20. Colorado bookings can happen anytime after June 17th and through August 7th. Even if you are not living in any of those places, I would consider travelling.

There will be a free autographed copy of the book for the first ten women to book a presentation.

Post a comment on this blogpost or visit my writers' facebook page and book your presentation today.

Husband Appreciation Year

2011-01-10T09:06:00.000-08:00

One of my friends celebrated Husband Week last week. I didn't know how widespread the celebration is for husband week, or if it is really a recognized week, so of course I had to investigate. This was the Facebook post that started the wheels turning for me:

HUSBAND WEEK: If you have a husband who is your best friend, who works hard for you, who has been with you through thick and thin, who loves you even when you're at your worst, and whom you are PROUD to be married to, copy and paste this with the date you were married.

I do have a husband who is my best friend, he works TOO hard for me, he has absolutley been with me through thick and thin and he loves me even when I am at my worst. I am SO proud to be married to him and I can hardly believe we have been married since 8/15/98.

Yesterday, I told my husband it was Husband Appreciation Week, and he sat a little taller with the news. He squeaked out a foot massage because of it, and it was fun to tell him all the reasons I do so fully appreciate him.

I had to break his heart this morning, however, when I told him I could not verify that Husband Appreciation Week really existed, and if it does, I couldn't find the actual week we are supposed to honor them.

"There is a Husband Appreciation Day though...on April 16th," I consoled him. (http://www.brownielocks.com/)

"So no more foot rubs this week?" he sighed.

"I can probably muster up a couple more...if you are worthy of appreciating," I joked.

It is important to have special days to recognize those things that matter to us, and I think it's great to add another day of appreciation.

We have World Marriage Day, perfectly coordinated with Valentine's Day on February 14th.

The April 16th Husband Day is shared with the birthday of the Air Force, National Attention Deficit Disorder Awareness Day, Chiropractic Founders Day, Hug a Greeting Card Writer Day and National Respect Day.

I will think about appreciating my husband that day, on Father's Day, Valentine's Day and our anniversary, but our marriage would be in real trouble if those were the only days I told him how much I appreciate him.

To set out for an entire year of appreciation seems daunting initially, so I will still just take it one Husband Appreciation Day at a time.

I Do...Think it's Okay to Contract for an Affair

2011-01-06T20:27:00.000-08:00

Apparently there is a movement afoot. More and more couples are opting for a clause in their marriage contract that allows the spouses to cheat on one another.

While visiting last night with my husband, the one in my completely monogomous relationship, he told me he had heard couples were choosing this "freedom contract" over the traditional promise of marriage. I forgot to ask him, immediately, if he was hoping for such an amendment to our contract, so I went in this morning to check with him.

"Hey, I just want to verify that when you brought up that story of the couples who have contracted to cheat on one another, you weren't looking to change our current arrangement... were you?"

"No," he assured me between laughs. "It was a 'listen to this!' story on the radio, and people actually called in to say that they do sign contracts like this. I thought it was crazy."

I think it's pretty crazy too, and there is not a single cell in my body that wishes our contract were worded differently, but I am intrigued by this idea.

One of the women who called into the radio show admitted her husband had requested permission to have sexual partners outside of their marriage, and she agreed. When asked if she cheated too, she said, "No, he's the only one who needs to, and having it in our contract keeps things stable."

He's contracted to stay married to her, to provide for her, to be a companion for her, but he is not required to be exclusive. She committed to that too.

Could this possibly work? This is what I think: I think it works all the time...even if the couple doesn't have it formally written down, there are plenty of people who know infidelity exists and continue to operate as a married couple.

"Conservative infidelity statistics estimate that “60 percent of men and 40 percent of women will have an extramarital affair. These figures are even more significant when we consider the total number of marriages involved, since it's unlikely that all the men and women having affairs happen to be married to each other. If even half of the women having affairs (or 20 percent) are married to men not included in the 60 percent having affairs, then at least one partner will have an affair in approximately 80 percent of all marriages. With this many marriages affected, it's unreasonable to think affairs are due only to the failures and shortcomings of individual husbands or wives." Infidelity Statistics

The divorce rate is still around 50 per cent, and only 17 per cent of divorces are blamed on infidelity. It is possible that upwards of 50-60 per cent of marriages affected by infidelity, simply continue to work.

A couple who talks about the potential for affair, and then signs a joint contract before they are married could be saving themselves the drama and heartache so many other couples endure.
My husband and I will not be personally experimenting with this, but it is an interesting, modern twist on the marital arrangement. I would be curious to see the statistics of those marriages that remain in tact in ten years.

I really don't have a problem with two consenting adults who want to bind their relationship in any way that works well for both of them. The problem I have is with the people who have promised, in writing, to be faithful and exclusive, and then go ahead and have an affair anyway.

I guess for me, I just think people should do what they say they are going to do.

To Write or to Live my Marriage?

2010-12-31T06:03:00.000-08:00

One blog in five months does not a blogger make.

I took a look back at posts I have written over the last year, and it is evident I have made a choice. The days, months and weeks when my husband and I were not together were my most productive writing months, and since we have been in the same state, I have not uttered a public word about him. I have chosen to live our marriage instead of write about it.

I am still writing, finishing my first book, (Choosing to Grow: Through Marriage) but my daily reflections about what it takes for us to stay married have gone mute.

Are we still married? Yes.

Are we in a good place in our marriage? Certainly.

Have I plateaued with my current growth? Maybe.

My marriage toolbox got a whole lot bigger over the last seven years. I picked up so many ideas about how to better communicate, how to have strength to change my own behavior, and how to love him better.

Tools that sit in a box are useless, so I have chosen to open the box, put the tools to work and reap reward for effort. In choosing to do that, however, I have had little time to write about it.

Places I knew needed mending have taken top priority for me, and that emotional effort takes minutes out of my day. I don't regret any second of our romantic vacation to Hawaii because, except for the flights, my computer stayed stored. I have soaked up time simply "hanging out" because for so much of the year we do not get to do that. Our marriage needed that. I needed that.

I am a writer, but I am a wife first. I can hardly claim to write about how to navigate the minefield of marriage, unless I am actually taking steps myself.

There will be time to write, to vent, to grow, but the last few months have been the time to live my marriage.

Free Beer for Moms

2010-09-06T19:41:00.000-07:00

"Hey Coach...you're a mom! You should go over there and get your free beer."

I glanced up at the spray-painted sheet hanging from the porch of the self-declared party house, and pretended I would actually take them up on it.

"That's true! Do you think they meant me?" I asked with an exaggerated tone as I took a few steps in the direction of the ad.

I stopped, of course.

What kind of coach do you think I am? More than that...what kind of mom do you think I am? I'm a respectable mother, wife and coach who holds herself to the highest standards of professionalism. I don't think I'd ever be the mom who walked away from my kid as he/she unpacked his/her college things for a first year away at school just so I could have a few bevvies with a young good-looking college kid. I'd have to be completely desperate, right?! There were moms who stopped, and I was so curious about why they did. Were they single cougars looking for a young victim? Were they frazzled, emotional wrecks who hoped that a free beer might calm the overwhelming emotions of saying goodbye? I don't know.

I also don't know the intentions of the young men who decided to wave the invitation in the first place. Were they looking for single cougars who could dig in their claws? Were they hoping to meet the "party" moms of daughters being delivered to school so they would have first dibs on a girl with good genes? I can only guess why they invited the moms, but I grappled with what it feels like from a mom's perspective.

On one shoulder I heard the logical professional side of me: "Keep moving those things...smile and welcome all the students and their families...make them feel welcome...do everything you do with joy and treat them the way a good coach and mom should." On the other shoulder I heard: "Do it. Just walk over there. Screw it all. Would it kill you to lighten up a little? Those boys are sure creative if nothing else, and it would be fun."

Professional shoulder always wins out with me. I probably always want it to, but there are days when I just wish I could go back to irresponsible, unprofessional me. Oh wait... I never was one of those! I told someone the other day how I wish I could just go back to college for one year. A year when I wasn't worried about playing on a team...a year when I wasn't frantic about my GPA...a year when I could fully invest in getting to know the kinds of boys who dangle interesting messages on bed sheets. Is this what mid-life crises feel like? I would venture to guess that if the intensity with which I have felt these emotions the last couple of weeks increases steadily until my kids are heading off to college, the obnoxious, irresponsible shoulder may move my legs to actually cross the street to claim my free beer.

Our Friends Help Me to Love Him Better

2010-08-07T06:03:00.000-07:00

They are who I call when I'm frustrated, when what my husband does drives me crazy, or when circumstances make marriage seemingly impossible. They are the right people to call. Our best couple friends absolutely support our marriage, and I don't think you can ever have enough friends like that.

Through hormonal tears and laughter about the changing phases of our lives, they have been our steady companions. Our friends have seen us in different places in the country and they have always been one phone call away. My girlfriends are important to my emotional health, and I lean on them too, but there is something so powerful about calling "a couple" for support and guidance. It's funny that I feel doubly supported by our husband-wife friends, because I only call the women, but they are the type of couples who share everything, and I always feel like I am talking with the both of them with one phone call. I know my story will be shared with the husband, and when I get that call back to check on how things are going, I can hear his input on the other line.

In our best couple-friends relationships I have a deep friendship with the woman and my husband is good friends with the man. It is important for his friends to have a chance to remind me what makes him such a good guy. They will defend him, and that is incredibly important to the strength of our marriage. When I am not necessarily feeling like going to bat for him, our couple friends will.

My husband and I are approaching our twelfth anniversary, and we threaten practically every year to throw an anniversary bash that looks a whole lot like our wedding reception. Part of why we want to do it is to have a chance to celebrate with the friends who have played such an integral part in our marriage. One of my favorite pictures from our wedding reception is of the groomsmen holding me up.(the picture above is not me, nor is it anyone I know) Many of the guys who physically held me that night, have been figuratively holding me ever since. We have added other supportive guy friends to the mix, and with all that support, a bride/wife has a hard time falling. When we get our anniversary bash organized, it will be a celebration of our years of marriage, but it will also be a chance to thank the friends who have consistently helped me love him.

Can I Bleach His Collar?

2010-07-24T07:18:00.000-07:00

It has been fifty-four days since my husband has taken a full day off of work. It isn't the sit-behind-your-desk or hide-inside-a-cubicle sort of work either. It is demanding and physical, resulting in weight loss and fatigue. He has probably lost about twenty-five pounds, and anyone who sees him this time of year notes how tired he looks. He is tired...and skinny. It has started to take a toll on him.

As his wife, I feel a sense of responsibility for his well-being. "Have you eaten today?" "Can you get home to get a nap?" "Here is a gift of a massage...will you please go do it?" I want so badly to wave my magic wand and turn his dirty t-shirts into white-collared business attire. That might mean a five-day-a-week schedule, a steady paycheck, regular weekends and a well-rested husband. A girl can dream, right?

I know to my core, that even if I could change the color of his collar, I couldn't change the worker inside. My husband loves to work with his hands. He uses his down time (at our cabin) to build things and renovate. He enjoys the rigor of his job and the variety of the tasks. What drives him hardest is the fact that working like this through the summer affords him the opportunity to do what he loves more than anything in this world: to coach hockey.

He's not a cubicle kid, and he wants to use his suit and tie money to buy the color-coordinated ensembles he can wear standing behind the bench. It is not my right to deny him that. It is what breathes life back in to him after he lays limp at the end of the summer. I support him the only way I know how. I shuttle kids from here to there. I plan excursions and soothe frustrations. I distract the kids and count with them the days until we can rest with him.

I took the girls to see Ramona and Beezus as part of my distraction technique yesterday. I cried in so many places in the movie, and for completely different reasons. There was a part in the movie where the dad explains how he was forced to take a "real" job after his kids were born so that he could support the family. His passion for art was not a feasible means to an end. The dad in our house has the same problem. He has a passion that could not support our family of five right now, and he is married to a woman who wants nothing more than to write for peanuts. Maybe I should don the white collar...and give him a chance to rest for a while? I don't know whether we need a white collar in the house, or just some centering to get us back on a track with what works for everyone.

It's all still a work...in progress.

It Matters Not How YOU Define Marriage...

2010-07-19T08:06:00.000-07:00

If you are not my husband, your definition of marriage is of little consequence to me. I might bend my ear to hear what you think, but in the end, what has any effect on my marriage is how my definition lines up with my husband's.

I recently asked him, as far away from context as I could (I waited until we were talking about sausages---NO, not those sausages!)

"Hey, I have a question for you, and I want you to say the first thing that pops into your head."

"Okay," he looked at me curiously.

"What is your definition of marriage?"

I love that he barely moved his gaze from mine.

He was somber when he listed, "Companionship. Friendship. Someone being there through the hard times and good times. Being there to listen."

I wrote it down, internally calculating how we were doing. My definition was almost exactly what he had said...which is a good thing. We both think that marriage should be a relationship built on friendship and propelled by commitment.

"How do you think we are doing...this time of year?" I pressed him.

"Horrible." He admitted.

He's right. We can hardly call ourselves companions when I see him maybe ten hours in a week. We are comfortable roommates during the summer months. The difference between us, and other couples who find themselves regularly passing each other in the hallway, is that the current state of our relationship is temporary. We will be close companions in a few months when we huddle in for the frigid Minnesota winter.

One of the questions on my marriage survey, distributed during my book research, asked about a definition of a successful marriage. There were 173 responders to the survey, and there were 173 unique definitions. The only way I could analyze the definitions was to take out the keywords and categorize them. Two words won out for the most important things to remember in a marriage relationship. RESPECT and COMMUNICATION. Thankfully, no matter how often I see him, I can still wholeheartedly respect him, and we can maintain good communication, even if we talk for a few minutes at a time.

My husband and I will celebrate our twelfth anniversary this August. Researchers have moved the seven-year itch to the twelfth-year turmoil and it's probably important to take stock again. I'm so happy we are on the same page. It is comforting to know that he is as frustrated, in the moment, as I am, but that we are both still moving in the same direction.

At church yesterday, the priest used a timely analogy. He was talking about the Martha and Mary differences and whether it is better to serve or to be present. He commented about how it is more about the state of your heart than it is about the choice you make. The analogy he used was about marriage and when the spouses are forced to conduct their lives apart (I'm not kidding...this is what he talked about). He explained hearts that stay true in separation is how our relationship with God should be.

Our marriage definition... today...Friendship propelled by commitment with a goal of respect and open communication. We can do that!

An Intent to Define Marriage

2010-07-17T07:05:00.000-07:00

I was looking at my husband last night...in the dark...right after we had fallen into bed. For a moment, I felt a question forming on my lips, "How would you define marriage?" I wanted to ask. I heard the immediate heavy breathing that finds him so quickly this time of year, and I stopped myself from asking. It's not a time for those philosophical discussions; the ones I love so much and that can last into the wee hours of the morning. It was a wee hour of the morning. He had been working, and I had been hanging out with him...actually I should say I was hanging out "by" him. But I laid for a while pondering how I define marriage. I fell asleep too quickly to come up with a good definition. But when I woke up this morning...I kept thinking about it.

A definition of marriage, according to Bing, is: a legally recognized relationship, established by a civil or religious ceremony, between two people who intend to live together as sexual and domestic partners.

Marriage is a noun. It is not something you do, it is a state of being. I find it interesting that in the above definition, the word "intend" is used. Brilliant. It is a marriage as long as there is intent. As soon as a member of the couple no longer intends to be a sexual partner or to shack up domestically, the marriage is beginning to break. We intend to be sexual partners...at a point in time when our three kids are not sleeping soundly at the other end of our room, and we also intend to re-establish our relationship as domestic partners. So I guess we are in a marriage, by random online definition standards.

The word "married" does not further my understanding of what our relationship is. According to Bing, married is an adjective and it means, having a spouse. Great. So yes, I guess I have one of those. I am indeed a married woman.

My personal definition is still formulating, and my desire for more time to hash it out with my spouse is still there. I will ask him in the next few days what his definition of marriage is, and I'll report back about his response. Maybe by then I'll have a definition that more fully explains what I think about it too. For now, I'll just intend to be his partner.

Cheating Men...The Uncivilized Choice

2010-07-12T13:14:00.000-07:00

I recently read an article, Do All Men Cheat?, and I can't seem to shake my opinion about this one. I thought I would vent a little here in a warm-up to my book-writing session today.

Anyone who follows my blogs, or my life, knows that I have a somewhat unique marital arrangement. (more unique than most, I should say). We spend weeks and even months away from each other, and even when we are living in the same place, we spend quite a bit of our time apart. "That's a recipe for disaster..." I can hear the naysayers warning. "How can he get enough if you are not with him?", and "Not getting enough leads to trouble!!" I cannot seem to shake this part of the internal chatter spurred by the recent article. (written from the perspective of the mistress, mind you)

There seems to be a movement excusing men from extra-marital activities, arguing that they simply have an insatiable desire for women, and one wife cannot satisfy their needs. Monogamy is a construct of religion, but not the way that people would operate otherwise, I have heard people say. I completely and wholeheartedly disagree. Marriage is a social and religious construct, yes, but the effectiveness of its presence in society cannot be denied. My opinion about marriage is personal, but there is some science behind my defense of monogamy. Scientists have found that happily married women are the happiest kind of women there are. Health, both mental and physical, are improved when men and women are committed to a monogamous relationship, and length of life and quality of life are both bi-products of monogamy.

I have no problem with men who know that they cannot keep their zippers zipped and who find life too boring without the thirty-one flavors...there is a place for you in the world. My issue is with the men who agree to make a monogamous relationship work, and then cop out of their commitment because they want a younger and firmer flavor. It is not excusable man behavior, it is chicken. It takes real work to keep things interesting, and although men may have picked vanilla and sometimes don't feel like vanilla, it is more manly to dress it up with some flavorful toppings, and stick with what they promised to love.

My husband and I are human too, and we have our needs, most definitely, but we have both committed to one another, to this relationship and to our children, and miraculously we are disciplined enough to wait until we are back together. Simply put, it matters not where we get our appetite, just that we come home to eat...that is what we promised to do!

He Wants to Spoon...And I Feel Like a Fork

2010-07-10T07:06:00.000-07:00

I know it's me and not him, but I can't help wanting it to be him. We are finally in the same state (something that hasn't been consistent since April). Granted, it is not our home state, but it is the same. What is hard, at the moment, is that I probably talked to him more when we were in separate states, than I have since we got here. His phone is broken and his work schedule is the same. He is comfortable to fall asleep, as long as I am sitting next to him, and when we are not acting like an old couple dozing on the couch, I am running around trying to catch up with friends.

I knew it was going to be like this. It is like this every summer. The twenty-hour work days are still the twenty-hour work days and when I look in my rear view mirror, there are still three little faces who depend on me to feed them and keep them busy.

I'm not sure why I feel so differently this year. The romantic buzz about this summer business is no longer all that romantic. It is wearing on both of us, and I just know that something is going to give. Part of me is terrified to put a stick in the spokes of these out-of-control wheels, but I know the crazy ride has to end. I fear we'll all get up from the fall with scrapes and bruises that may take a while to heal.

Dealing with bandages in a full-family transitional recovery still sounds better than what I am trying to do now. I don't want to be the fork in the bed. I can feel my body posture tightening when the couch sleeping moves to the bed for sleep, and I cringe at the idea of spooning like we usually do. I am not in a spooning state of mind. I have some typical women tendencies I guess: when I am not in a good emotional state I guard my physical self too. It is not how I feel about my husband, our marriage, or our life, but I am finding it difficult to soften the prongs into a spoon, and it may take something drastic to balance us out again.

Family Reunion...A Celebration of Marriage

2010-07-07T16:01:00.000-07:00

There was a migration of hundreds of McGuires last weekend, and all because of Richard P. McGuire and his wife Margaret. Every five years, the family descends upon the small farming community of Wisner, Nebraska. The weekend is spent connecting with immediate and extended family, relearning or being introduced to the history that defines us, and feeling genuinely connected to something much bigger than any of us.

At the Sunday Mass, a couple from another branch of our family celebrated their sixtieth wedding anniversary. We were all witness to the renewal of their vows, and for me, it was one of the more touching moments of the day. Sixty years!! Are you kidding? It reminded me that no one in that room would have been sitting there had it not been for the decision by Richard P. McGuire to marry Margaret McMahon. In six short generations, there are enough people to fill an auditorium every five years.

The family operates on a constantly changing bell curve. The older generations are smaller each time while the younger generations often grow with marriages and children. The generation pictured below is the fourth generation. This is the group that should include my dad, but he was not there and, barring a miracle, he will likely never be able to attend another one of the McGuire reunions. For me, my closer connections are my dad's four brothers. It is through them I feel woven into this group. It is through them that my son learned about who his grandfather used to be, and it is though them that I will forever have pride in my Irish family.

I don't imagine that R.P. and Margaret were perfect, nor that their children led lives free of mistake, but I took several minutes over the weekend to look around at the room they had created, and I couldn't help but to think that they had done something right. They loved well enough, they passed down a strong pride in heritage and the people in that room had an air of open generosity that is well-worth celebrating.

My brother, (pictured below) and his wife are expecting their first child, and he/she will be the only "McGuire" baby in my immediate family. As my brother stood and contemplated the headstone of his great-great grandfather, I said a short prayer in thanks for all that marriage can do.

The marriage of my great-great- grandparents is ultimately responsible for my children. How could I ignore what that means? I am so grateful for the willingness of this family to continue to gather. How else could I foster in my kids the kind of pride that encourages Big Sprout to sport an "I'm proud to be Irish" button while embracing his second-cousin-once-removed (or however he's related to the son of my dad's first cousin)?

It was a wonderful reunion and I think we all feel a bit more grounded after the McGuire reunion weekends. I recognize the miracle of those who remain and continue to want to organize, but I celebrate the power of marriage to do wondrously miraculous things too.

Seventh Inning Stretch

2010-06-28T06:15:00.000-07:00

Soccer and hockey rule this house, so I am biased, I know, about the sports we play. I find it interesting that my husband and I played such similar sports: the flow, the objective and the energy of both hockey and soccer are the same. Successful teams are seamless, and victories are won with guts and miraculous endurance. I have my theories about the positions played by people, and whether the chicken or the egg comes first, I think personalities fit those positions. My husband is a goalie and I am a midfielder ( playmaker and goal-scorer). He spent the better part of his life in a defensive mindset: stoic, under control and curbing emotion. I played driven by emotion; riding the waves of passion to do what needed to be done.

Don't get me wrong, he was, and still is, incredibly passionate about hockey. What I mean is that he has found that magic formula to internalize and dissipate any emotion he may have. Because of the demands of his position, he had to find a zone of calm. He still behaves a lot like that. Maybe he should take up poker?

The interesting thing that has happened since we got married, and most certainly since we had kids, is that we have had to start playing baseball instead. Not literally...we don't have a baseball player in the house...but figuratively. We have given up our skates and shin guards to find a spot on the baseball diamond. This time of year, when my husband works nearly twelve-hour days in one part of the country, and I manage things here at home, I am the catcher and he is running around in the outfield. The kids are staggered at positions in the infield, and as a family, we play defense constantly. Life is the opposition...working to get hits off of us. It is us against life, and with only two adults in the house right now, the best way to guard our diamond is to have one of us in the outfield and another at home plate.

Our roles shift in the fall when I am coaching full time and he is home more. I chase down the long balls, and he stays closer to home plate. Then we switch back again when hockey season rolls around and he does coaching of his own. The reason the baseball analogy works well for our family scenario is because I have never played baseball, and my husband played on a limited basis in high school, so we are learning how to do this as we go. We are trying to anticipate the bunts, the pop-flies and the line drives. I can't have him flake out on his job out there in the outfield any more than he can have me lose interest at home plate. We are a team. When life really throws us a curve ball, the kids have stepped up to be more prominent players in our game. The older they get, the better fielders they have become.

I love this picture of the ripped baseball, but the quote that goes with it, says it all: "The harder you work the luckier you get." At this rate, we are going to be the luckiest family in the world!

Father's Day Flowers

2010-06-20T08:03:00.000-07:00

I found this flower blooming near our front porch this morning. For the first time in my life, I am in Minnesota for Father's Day, and I discovered beautiful potential in a plant I obviously know nothing about. We have never been here this late in June, and I had no idea that what looked like tall grass to me would bloom into this startling eye-catcher. Throughout the last week, I could tell that the plant was preparing itself to flower, and I anticipated a subtle yellow flower. I was pleasantly shocked at the vibrant color of a flower I have never been here to experience.

It is a gift of Father's Day for us. We can only share it with my husband via the internet, but it is a symbol of hope for me, and a reminder that only because of him, am I here to witness this. He is the Minnesotan, I am not...not yet anyway. I still feel like a tourist here. I drive from place to place with my GPS and I frequently navigate informational websites. I learn something new about this place, and about my husband, with each passing day.

This flower has impressed more upon me than its vibrant display. It represents for me all it is I strive for in life and in my marriage. In the spot where this flower popped this morning, snow and ice sit for nearly five months. The pile of snow was above my hip this year. In the middle of winter, it is impossible to imagine that fragile beauty like this could exist. Nothing is more hopeful than knowing that life can survive and eventually thrive after the harshest of conditions.

It is not the first time the kids and I have spent Father's Day without their father, but it is the first time we will not see him at all. My husband has worked twelve-hour days EVERY Father's Day since I have known him. Usually we track him down at the festival where he works, but we are allowed only fifteen minutes or so as we follow him from one place to another. We have managed to stay optimistic about the fact that the beauty of our family togetherness is simply laying dormant. Just like this flower, it will bloom again...even from ground that seems impossibly frozen.

Where are You Right Now? and What are You Doing?

2010-06-10T21:29:00.000-07:00

The Sprout household is wilting. Pappa Sprout has been gone from home for most of the last month and a half. Our leaves are drooping. He'll be back to visit on Monday, but my heart knows we won't really have him back until October.

Of all of us in the house, Little Sprout wears her sadness most publicly these days. She cries and stomps and throws something across the room declaring, "I miss Daddy!"

"I know, honey. We all do." I console.

Then when she gets her dad on the phone she consistently and predictably asks him, "Where are you right now?"

Every single time she talks to him she asks him where he is. I want to ease the phone from her and tell her, no one really knows where he is right now. The daddy you are missing won't be back for a while.

He has been in that "working" place, increasingly since April. It's the place that deadens his smile and changes his posture. With the approach of opening weekend, he has been pulled further and further from us, and Little Sprout knows it. Saturday marks the opening of the Renaissance Festival, and although I know the difficult preparatory work will be done, I know too well that my husband's focused work will only barely fade after the last cannon fires.

It's not that he doesn't want to be with us...or there for us...he does. He just has so many responsibilities and demands that his emotional energy cannot be on us. I'm seasoned. We've navigated this ridiculous schedule for fourteen years, and even though the spiral is predictable, it doesn't mean I have to like it. I can hardly expect the smaller sprouts in this house to like it either.

I don't ask him where he is, but I do ask, "What are you doing right now?" I try to conceal my increasing worry about his welfare. He does too much, in my opinion. His answers this week have been, "I'm moving hay bales." , "I'm raking sand.", "I'm shopping for food.", "I'm rebuilding a game.", "I'm scrubbing a fryer.", "I'm doing contracts in my office." "I'm running orientation.", "I'm meeting with the fire inspectors."

"Did you eat lunch today?" I ask at 2:00 his time. "How much sleep did you get?" I ask each morning because he sounds more and more tired each time he calls the kids before school.

The phone conversations have gotten shorter (three minutes tonight) because I hope he'll actually get more sleep and I don't really want to know the answers to my questions this time of year. He's so tired, he'll barely remember whether I asked him or not.

I'm missing his side of the conversation. So, I'll pretend he has time to ask me the burning questions, "Where are you?" he would ask. "Oh, I'm sitting at my computer," I would answer. "What are You Doing?" he would wonder. "I'm missing my husband," I'd sadly reply.

REALLY?!? Phone Company to Blame for Divorce!!!!

2010-06-07T14:36:00.000-07:00

I am not sure what appalls me more...the fact that a woman cheated on her husband OR the fact that she is suing the cell phone company for the fact that her marriage is done.

Toronto resident Gabriella Nagy is suing Rogers Wireless Inc. for $600,000

Nagy claims her husband left her after seeing several phone calls to the same number, calling it and confirming her affair. She blames the phone company for the break-up of her marriage. Plus, she has the gall to think that someone owes her money for it. Their marriage is done...officially...now that her husband knows of her affair, but her loyalty to their marriage was obviously over well before the cell phone bill mix up.

My approach to marriage is incredibly different than this woman's. I don't want you to think that I am high and mighty and that I have never made terrible decisions when it comes to my marriage, but I have ALWAYS taken responsibility for my own behavior. If, by some off chance, this woman wins her lawsuit, I hope her ex then civilly sues her for minimally half of the money she wins. His argument would be that if they had not been together so that she could cheat on him, she would never have made any money from the cell phone bill mistake. Real news never ceases to amaze me!

Appreciating the Wedding Tent

2010-06-01T09:32:00.000-07:00

We opened our last wedding present this weekend. In August we will have been married for twelve years, and we finally got around to using one of the gifts. The two-bedroom, six-person tent that we have lugged through eight moves, came out of its packaging on Saturday. Big Sprout and Papa Sprout spent about forty-five minutes putting up the poles, setting in the stakes and prepping for a night of campfires and tent-talking. Talk about delayed gratification! There was something so magical about sharing the initial use of this gift with our kids.

The tent was a present from a group of our college friends. It was likely intended for our use as a newly-married couple, and they probably had no idea that we would be too scattered during the first part of our marriage to use it. I can hardly believe that it has taken us twelve years to feel settled enough to set down those stakes, but we finally are. The tent is now safely housed at our cabin, and I anticipate years of memories, but the tent stories will primarily belong to our children.

I think I've always known that this was going to be the way. It never bothered me that we moved the tent box without opening it, because I knew we would, and I knew we would open it with our kids.

It makes me pause when our kids ask questions about our wedding. It feels like they were there. It's still strange to me that they weren't. We talked this weekend that we should renew our vows at our twentieth anniversary, so that the kids can be a part of the celebration. They have earned their time in our wedding tent.

It is so symbolic for me that we opened the tent on this particular weekend. I had an epiphany of sorts about wedding miracles. We went to a beautiful wedding on Friday, and the shift in my mentality was clear. I used to cry watching the ceremonies because of what emotions I remembered from my own wedding, but the tears fell at this ceremony in remembrance of our wedding but also in anticipation of the weddings for our kids. I was crying from the perspective of a mother, and I admittedly had more tears. Mothers have the emotional perspective of going through their own days, and the overwhelming reactions of letting go.

I am starting to understand the possible tension that happens with mothers and daughters and mothers-in law and daughters-in-law. It is part of a chapter I've been formulating for the Choosing to Grow book, and it all came together for me this weekend. My understanding mimics the popping of the tent. As a bride I saw weddings in one dimension, much like the flattened out version. Through my research I realized that in order to fully appreciate the complexity of the full-family wedding experience there is some building that needs to be done first. The husband and the wife each bring their own parts of the tent, and they are uniquely equipped with their own tools, handed down from families and established through experiences. Recognizing the uniqueness of this union opens someone up to appreciation. When the tent is completely assembled, it is a three-dimensional reality of wedding bliss, complete with past, present and future. I am beginning to look at weddings from the perspective of a previous bride, as a newlywed, and now as the mother of children who will eventually lay out their own wedding experience. It is three-dimensional and I am grateful to have my 3-D glasses.

The mother of the bride commented as we were leaving the Friday wedding, "It is amazing to see the layering of their lives manifested here in one day." It is most definitely layering that happens. We are building the base layer for what our kids will take to their wedding tent, and there will be countless layers added in the years to come. My greatest hope for them is that they can appreciate the three-dimensions of the wedding tent much earlier than twelve years after it happens....but it's really never too late to put up the tent, right?!?

He's Baa-aack! and I'm Adjusting

2010-05-28T04:41:00.000-07:00

My space has been invaded. Glad he's home. Extra dishes. Glad he's home. Bed unmade. Eyes closed...glad he's home. Clothes strewn. Deep breath... glad he's home. Bathroom's crowded. Move through quickly...glad he's home. Vibrating phone alarm clock. Sun's up anyway...glad he's home. Typing elsewhere so I don't wake him...cathartic...yes, I'm glad he's home.

I'll have someone with whom to share my coffee. Little Sprout will have a playmate when I am off running games for field day, yardwork will get done faster at the cabin with two more hands. That elusive campfire will be built because I am not the one building it. Fish hooks will be properly set,and caught fish will be handled less squeamishly.I'll have someone to marvel at fireflies with me...when the kids have all faded to sleep. Laughter will be louder, hugs will feel tighter, conversation will grow to its normal length after being stunted by telephone awkwardness. Children will settle...life will feel full...Absolutely...I'm glad he's home.

The real kick in the pants is that just when we have all adjusted to the newness of his presence here, and yes, after three weeks of life in his absence, it feels new for a few days, he will leave us again. Back to work...for both of us. One more long stretch before we come to invade his space, and we all adjust to a different kind of newness.

So yes, the space feels crowded, and slipping right back in to the habits I abandon when he is gone, well, that's okay with me for a weekend. Letting myself quickly drop my guard so that I can feel all the joy the next few days...that makes the time he's home better, but it makes the adjustment when he leaves that much harder. I could sabotage. I could spend time pointing out and embracing the discomfort of an extra body in the house. The weekend will happen at weekend pace whether I am joy-filled or frustrated. So, I choose joy-filled. I am going to leave this on my computer screen, pick up the strewn clothes, make the bed, do the dishes and wrap my head around living joyfully in the moment.

Is it Possible to Over-Propose?

2010-05-25T05:48:00.000-07:00

If you haven't already seen it, you should take a few minutes to check out this Flash mob marriage proposal.. The guy hired about 100 dancers to make his marriage proposal.
I loved this. I got weepy watching it and I so wished I had stumbled upon the scene in person. Proposal stories are the best, and this one is a doozy. How do you outdo that? Someone will, I'm sure, but this one will rank pretty high for a while. Okay...so here comes synical-move-past-romantic-phase voice...I have no intimate knowledge of this couple, all I know is that this is a pretty impressive way to ask someone to marry you, and I can hardly imagine every anniversary, birthday, or holiday that follows will fully measure up. How is this guy going to be as great as he is during the proposal? How can he recapture what is probably going to be the most romantic moment of their relationship? Maybe he's not supposed to. Maybe the proposal is allowed to be so crazy and big that it propels a relationship for the long-haul when the couple retells the story, again and again. Being the realist who has been married almost twelve years, and who didn't really like the landing when I came down from the high that was the proposal and the wedding, I cannot help thinking about whether this guy is setting his marriage up for disaster by going over-the-top with the proposal? Maybe she is not that high maintenance, and he knows that she would have adored the quiet one-flowered wedding proposal just as much.

What do you think? Can someone over-propose?

Sometimes it's Better to Just Hang up the Phone

2010-05-21T05:26:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was big, and it was hard on us...on all of us. Big Sprout celebrated a milestone birthday, and he never likes to have birthdays in the absence of his dad. It has been a longer stint with my husband gone, and both me and the kids are starting to show signs of wear. Littlest Sprout gets physically violent (mind you, she is four and half-laughing as she does it), but she will sprint across the room and tackle down her brother at his knees. He laughs too, but it is a very real attempt at getting out frustration and aggression. Big Sprout wears his emotions on his sleeve, and the birthdays he has had to spend without dad have often resulted in some loss of privilege. Yesterday was no exception, but the "trouble" he got himself in this year was at school. Middle Sprout quietly keeps things together while her bookend siblings are tearing things apart, and then when she has bottled enough, it comes out in champagne-cork popping fashion. I anticipate an emotion explosion sometime this weekend. Add to all of that the fatigue that spring brings, responsibilities that remain at work for me, and you have a perfectly disastrous recipe for a bad phone conversation.

Proud of myself, though. I think that I have identified that Middle Sprout and I deal with emotional stress in the same way. During the day, I put on an air of calm (tongue in cheek, because even yesterday I wasn't able to stay totally calm with the kids), and then when the kids are sleeping, my husband's voice is on the other end, and my walls drop, I pop the top. Last night, I made the other decision. Instead of staying on the phone too long, and letting my own little emotional volcano spew all over my husband, I abruptly ended the conversation and went to bed. I used to hold tightly to the idea that I should never go to bed if my marriage was in that angry place, and in the past I would have tried to draw out that frustration for much longer than necessary. I read recently though, that it is a myth that you should never go to bed angry. When you are so gosh dang tired, it makes no sense to try to fix things, and a morning perspective is often much clearer. Things do look better this morning, and I have every confidence that today's conversation will be much better.

I suppose it is a good thing that we all miss my husband that much, but the kids and I can cling to each other while he's gone. Sometimes I forget that he doesn't have someone on his end to cling to, and I'm glad I made the decision to get off the phone...he doesn't need the reminder that his absence is hard on us. He doesn't need to be the one fielding my frustration. When he is my only sounding board for emotional stress and then when the frustrations include him, I sound accusatory. I want to simply vent sometimes, and at least with my husband, he wants to then take what frustrates me and fix it. He can't fix this...so then he gets frustrated too. I just wrote myself to an epiphany... Note to self...either write out frustrations prior to a phone conversation, or call a good friend and tell her, "hey...I just want to talk and you need to do nothing more than listen", or if it's too late to call up a friend and/or I'm too tired to get a single letter down on paper...my next best solution is to just hang up the phone.

Seeing my Husband's Reflection in the Bonfire

2010-05-17T05:35:00.000-07:00

I sometimes learn more about my husband in his absence than I do when he is right here beside me. Today marks the start of week four that he has been gone, and the connection he and I have seems to be deepening. There is the part that happens to my heart in his absence...I do grow a little fonder, but there is also something else transforming in me.

My husband grew up in Minnesota and I in Colorado. During these months when he has to leave for work, he goes to Colorado, and I stay in Minnesota. I'm glad that I get to experience Minnesota spring and summer, and thrilled that I get to do it through the eyes of our kids.

Weekends are usually the hardest for me. People are huddled with their families and it is too much of an imposition to ask to crowd in at their dinner tables. Often baseball and soccer schedules keep people moving, and since we are in our lull from sports, it gets hard to stay connected to people around here. Not this weekend.

Friday night we spent on our own, but something very Minnesotan happened for us on Saturday. We know the people in our neighborhood much better than in past years...and I must tell you that it seems somewhat dependent upon fire...winter makes it seem like nothing but cars and snow blowers occupy the houses around us, but you can find groups of warmly-clothed folks warming themselves around a fire.

Saturday night, when I had walked one of my son's friends' home, we found ourselves included in the bonfire that was happening among those neighbors.

"Mom! Mom! Can we stay for their bonfire? PLEEAASE?" my kids begged and Big Sprout ran back with his buddies before I could even really make a decision. Bonfires are not something that I grew up doing. I was taught to be terrified of fire and fireworks because even just thinking about those things could start a forest fire. But Minnesota is different. This fire was in a pit in the ground, right in the middle of their back yard, and the adults crowded around it in chairs while the kids ran around playing games.

We left that bonfire party, I put the kids to bed and then I saw one of our cul-de-sac neighbors also stoking a fire. I sneaked over with my glass of wine and sat visiting under the stars. The older kids in the cul-de-sac played kick the can (which the adults had to teach them) and I started to know just a little more about the heart of my husband.

Minnesota is bonfires and boating...fenceless yards and spontaneous community. People work hard and play hard and they have a laid back attitude about who shows up at the party. That is my husband. Informal and inclusive, hard-working but fun too, and learning this without the present-day him around, is like being handed the gift of a marshmellow on a roasting stick.

Wedding Story

2010-05-12T20:36:00.000-07:00

Book beckons. My words are all finding their way to the drafts of my book chapters, so ideas and inspiration for blog writing are pretty pathetic. I thought that little blurbs of what I create on a daily basis for the book might be worth sharing in small snippets as I go.

Lately my mind has been floating in the champagne bubbles of wedding bliss, and here is what I remember from my own wedding day:

"You see, in my memory, I saw my husband as I walked down the aisle, and he and I were practically the only two in the room. No really…we were the only two in the room. We decided to take our pictures before the wedding so that we could go to the reception with everyone else (remember… formal kegger…didn’t want to miss it). So instead of ruining the groom seeing bride thing, we staged my entrance like a run-through and then it was ok that we saw each other. In my memory, we spent the better part of forty-five minutes ironing the bride’s maid dresses that had wrinkled in the car as they baked in their plastic bags. In my memory, Pudge remembered to get the keg delivered to the reception place but forgot to pick up his mom and grandma to get them to the church.(you guessed it…kegger) In my memory, Pudge’s grandma told the photographer she would stay for one more picture, and before the noise of the click had reached us on the steps, she was walking off. In my memory, Pudge put on his tuxedo only to find a fist-sized hole in the crotch. I don’t want to guess what the previous wearer had done in those pants. He was able to switch with his brother who mended the gaping hole. In my memory, I walked in to the same song as my bride’s maids…purposefully…I told myself that it was because I didn’t want the day to be about me, but more accurately I probably didn’t want to draw too much attention to the fact that my brother walked me down the aisle instead of my dad. In my memory, there was laughter and tears and a gripping ache in my stomach as I watched my new husband say a public remembrance for the dad he missed so much. I remember too, walking out of the church and into the arms of another dad…the dad I wasn’t sure would be there."

Excerpt taken from Choosing to Grow: Through Marriage...a book in progress.
Copyright 2010 Meagan Frank

Fun-guy feeds Gastro-girl

2010-05-10T22:07:00.000-07:00

Something is happening to me. I actually woke up this morning and started surfing the net about fungus. No, we don't have any fungus that I know of, and I am not in the market for any fungus, but I wanted to find the natural example of what moved in me this weekend.

You see, my husband was back in town this past weekend. Glory be! We went to the cabin, and after the weather improved enough to be outside, that's where we were. We melded our two love languages (his is acts of service and mine is quality time) and we worked on the rock that flanks our cabin. Piles of dirty rock needed to be sifted and sorted and replaced on the newly laid felt, and there was no way I was going to let him do it alone. I had some annoying to do.

My guy loves to do projects, and it seems the harder the project, the better. He puts up with me when I "help" because I am not always a quiet worker. I was not quiet this weekend either.

"Hey, what is a symbiotic plant?" I asked after the silence had caused too much firing in my brain.

"What?!" he rightly responded.

"Oh nothing, I was just thinking that there has to be some symbiotic plant relationship that one plant depends on the other. You know, like a barnacle or something?"

"I don't know," he politely ignored me.

My head kept working and I managed to make my mouth stop. There are always such great examples in nature, and with all the choosing to grow stuff that bombards my mind, I should probably learn more about plants, I thought.

So, that's why I was on the computer this morning reading about fungus. There is a natural example of something that I think works really well as a symbol of a strong relationship. It is the relationship between a symbiotic plant, Gastrodia, and the root-rot fungus that feeds it, Armellaria mellea. Without getting too technical and in hopes of letting the scientific explanation speak for itself, I can tell you that the fungus (or Fun-guy for my purposes) is the sole source of nutrients for the Gastrodia (or Gastro-girl as I'll call her).

Gastro-girl does not have the equipment of other plants. No green leafs so no chlorophyll and no roots. Fun-guy is the only source of nutrient for this plant. I am more like Gastro-girl than I want to admit. Anyway, the even cooler thing about this relationship is what Gastro-girl does for Fun-guy. See Fun-guy is mister destructo-man. He cannot help himself and he normally feeds on any living crop or tree that he can get his tendrils on. He is singularly focused and he just goes.

Similar to what happens when my human guy is left to his own devices. Anyway, Gastro-girl does something pretty miraculous, and not totally explained, she slows down the appetite of Fun-guy and keeps him from destroying the life around him. Even cooler than that, when the two are working at the right levels on each other, out sprouts a tuber orchid.

Life is amazing. The way that these two seemingly mismatched organisms are not only beneficial to one another, but perfectly designed. It is just enough to bring out the beauty that can only happen when they are in sync. Fun-guy is his own guy and Gastro-girl is an independent gal, they can both grow on their own...but the orchid will not bloom under just any circumstances.

Our Marriage does not Depend upon Co-Dependency

2010-04-23T13:51:00.000-07:00

People don't talk about co-dependency so much anymore. It's still an understood dysfunction of some relationships, but it is no longer the coin phrase for struggling couples who are most comfortable bringing out the worst in each other. I have spent a good part of the fourteen years that my husband and I have been together working on being dependable, allowing myself to depend on him, but moving beyond co-dependency.

What's the difference, you may ask? Well, it is healthy to open yourself up enough to trust and depend upon someone who is trustworthy and dependable. It is also incredibly important to be that dependable counter-part, but it is not healthy when everything that the other person does or feels becomes what you do and feel too...that is being co-dependent. When your mood depends on his mood, and when your day is only bad or good depending on how his day was...then you are co-dependent. I don't have to feel sad when he feels sad, or expect that when I am mad that he should project that same emotion. He is his own person and I am my own person. We have chosen to be a couple to go through life together, but I am starting to be okay with the independence that comes with that decision.

It is somewhat counter-intuitive to say that being married has made me more independent, but it absolutely has. I married the right guy. He has encouraged me to carve out my own space, to feel my own emotions, and he has gently taught me that it's okay if he is his own person too. What people think of him is his business, and what people think of me is their business. I have let go of the need to control any part of the relationships I have that are truly not mine to control. I have learned to set my boundaries, to identify my needs and clearly express them, and to accept that everyone else has a right to do the same thing.

What freedom! When seasonal living is the course of things, it is much easier to track growth. This time last year, when my husband was getting ready to leave our home for a few months to do his job, I was more than a little distressed. Better than the year before, but still physically agitated by his impending departure. I am sad that he has to go, don't get me wrong, but a lot has happened for me in the last year to better prepare me for what I need to do. I have more clearly defined what I need to feel fulfilled, and it is not solely dependent on my husband. That is the way things work best for me.

This is our marriage. It depends upon him leaving to earn his keep. It depends upon my strength to be here at the house and with the kids when he is gone, but I am much happier that I have abandoned co-dependent tendencies to expect that someone else has to see me as a victim in that. I am not a victim. This is the life we have chosen, and if there is something that does not completely work, I am in charge of changing it, or at least working through the emotions I need to so that I can better deal with it.

Sure, it helps that the kids are older and much easier than they were in years' past, but I am older and wiser now too. Life is good. This marriage, with all of its quirks, is good. I am not defined by my husband, nor is he defined by me, but our marriage depends upon our efforts to abandon co-dependency...together.

"Kids...You're Cramping our Style"

2010-04-01T07:10:00.000-07:00

The first time I heard the expression, "you're cramping my style!" was when my husband said it to me in college.

I was cool. He was cool. Well, at least we were both cooler than we are now. He was helping the hosts of a college party we were attending, and what that meant was that his job was to "man the keg." The Football House, as we so affectionately called it, was having a spring dance party, and the senior football players had adopted my then-boyfriend to be their bartender. We often went to the college parties separately. He with his friends, me with mine, and then at some point in the night we would find each other and leave the party together.

He got there first that night...and to be honest he had probably been testing the keg for a while. When I walked in I saw him across the room and he was stationed on his usual stool. The stool that flanked the keg and was immediately surrounded by the true occupants of the house. They were his football friends, but to be fair...they were my friends too.

Anyway, I walked across the room carrying the I'm-a-college-girl-and-I-know-it-swagger. (for those of you who follow my other blog you know that I was a tomboy college girl, so you can imagine the awkwardness of what I thought was a feminine walk) It was smooth...I'm sure. So, we made eye contact as I got closer to the temporary bar, and a group of keg guards glanced my way. Before my lips had even parted with hello, my then-boyfriend said, "Hey, beat it, you're cramping my style."

My lips then parted with a surprised expression and I froze where I was. It was a joke, and I laughed just as hard as his friends did, but as we all know, there is truth in joking. I was not an over-bearing girlfriend, and I had plenty of other things I wanted to do at the party (like dance), but he wanted a night with the boys...a night without a girlfriend. We have since used that expression a number of times when we feel like our true selves are being strained.

Right now, it is the kids who are cramping our marriage style. Just like when we were in college, in order for that expression to carry any weight, the person who says it has to actually have style to begin with. The reason it was so funny when my boyfriend said it to me in college was because he and I had already been dating for nearly two years, and everyone knew we were going to be married some day. He didn't have any more style for me to cramp.

The same can be said for how cramped our married life is because of our kids. They are such an integral part of our lives, that we have probably lost the style that we would have had without them. It's hard to imagine life without our kids, but there are so many days when I wonder how much more connected my husband and I would be, if the kids weren't around.

Kids bring us together for lots of things, especially when we are in the middle of school, sports and music schedules. We have to coordinate and cooperate regularly so that the house runs smoothly and everyone eats. The problem is that the kind of connectedness we get is not usually at the level we desire. Our conversations are snippets, the topics are often inane and then when all is quiet, and the kids are in bed, we are too tired to be the way we would normally be.

"Hey, meet us out for drinks," I hear our imaginary kidless friends saying.

See, our friends have the same kid-style-cramping problem that we do. We can't just decide on a whim to go out for drinks or to stop by a local eatery for some appetizers. Popping out for a movie takes planning, babysitter scheduling and double the cash just for an evening out.

I know that the grass is not greener on the other side, and I feel blessed to have three healthy kids to drive me nuts, I just understand why kids are the number one stress on marriage. Marriage becomes defined by the small people who live in the house. The relationship between a husband and wife becomes more complicated and more exhausting when daily decisions are based on how to manage the other people in the home. How do we schedule our work? How do we want to spend our money: do they need clothes or is that camp more of a priority? Can we take everyone to a movie? Which one of us is going to take care of the bills? The health care decisions? The financial planning for college?

Marriage is work...marriage with children is more work.

So, would I encourage a newly-married couple to have kids? Unquestionably, positively and absolutely yes! It might be the new configuration of a marriage to have kids, but I truly wouldn't have it any other way.

Nothing is quite like watching my husband teach our girls how to build stairs or watching him share the best parts of himself with our son. I knew when I married him that he was a good friend, a good son, and a good match for me. Having children has helped me to know him at a level that I would never have an opportunity to know otherwise. He is a great father. It is a style that suits him well.

Although our relationship as a couple is often thwarted and cramped by the kids who run around here, it is the phase of life that we chose. We just have to take advantage of the times when we are alone...try to capture the style that is uniquely ours and remember that the kids will eventually grow, and we will indeed get our groove back.

Be the Color in the Moment

2010-03-13T22:00:00.000-08:00

A moment at a time. That's all we really have, right? It is so much easier said than done to purposefully take life a minute at a time, but that is what I am trying to do right now. With the end of my husband's hockey season, I know that we are just that much closer to his departure. He'll be leaving soon...making his annual trek for his "real" job. The job that takes him away from us for long stretches of time, but the job that keeps this entire circus running.

It is all sortof routine for us now, but there are parts of the transition that don't ever get any easier. We'll miss him, and the things I let myself depend on him for, will soon be my sole responsibility. I have caught myself the last few days right when the words were about to leave my lips.

"I can do that. I'll have to do it soon anyway..."

I've done that in the past, and my subtle bitterness comes out in the breath between words. I am sad, but I don't want the moments we spend to be about the moments that have not yet been. I am notorious for letting impending doom be more present than the life that is happening right in front of me. I want to change that routine the most. I cannot change the fact that he will be leaving, but I can change my approach.

Finding moments in the midst of our busy schedules is often hard, but my husband and I took full advantage of our no hockey and no soccer schedules this week. We spent lots of time together, including breakfasts, working out and a walk to and from lunch. We decided to walk the long way home from the restaurant, and the moments were amazing. Not much moves during the frozen winters of Minnesota, and when the snow and ice finally start to melt, the motion of spring seems startling. For our walk, the surprise came on the wings of a bright red cardinal. It lifted up to the leafless branches of a tree and then sat there in complete contrast to its surroundings.

I want to be the surprise along the monotonous path. To say the joy-filled comment instead of the expected drab that blends into the sad background. Red cardinals rock, and especially when the sun hasn't shone for a week and the backdrop is void of any other color. That is how we should live every moment, and especially when time does what it always does...tick away. I want to be the color in the moments we have. Now, where did I put those red wings?

Marital Advice: Space and Spa Treatment

2010-03-09T06:09:00.000-08:00

On the heels of a difficult and combative week for me and my husband, I thankfully had a girls' weekend getaway. I had scheduled the weekend because my sister was celebrating her fortieth birthday, and it was at a time when my husbands' hockey team has traditionally been done for the year. His team won their game the weekend before, earning a roadtrip playoff during my getaway, and I am sure part of the tension we had was a direct result of the fact that we needed to schedule childcare for a weekend that was supposed to be easy. Thanks to supportive family and friends, we deposited the kids in two different places, and off I went.

I should know by now how therapeutic time with women can be. When we are without our husbands, our children, and any real responsibility, women are pretty awesome. We talked and talked about some of the craziest things, laughed regularly at stories that were both familiar and new, and without being direct counselors for the frustrations I was feeling, the support of loving women can be more powerful than any counseling session.

The young woman who did my nails talked about the goals she and her husband have to move from their apartment to their own home. The young couple in the bar, who bought my sister a drink to celebrate her birthday, were on the first night out since the arrival of their second child in three years. I identified with those stages. I was able to reflect on how far my husband and I have come since then, and I started to appreciate where we are.

My older sister and I got married the same summer, so there are quite a few similarities with the habits of our husbands. Our younger sister just got married this past fall, and she reminds me of the excitement of being a newlywed. The other two women who were able to join us for the weekend are at different stages with different challenges, and I soak up what each story offers me for my own life.

There is a reason that the tea parties were so important to me. Not only for my book research, but for my soul. When I was in the middle of my research and I got a call from a seventy-five-year-old man asking why I wasn't interviewing the men about marriage, I stumbled over my response saying something about my target audience. I think I know now why I was drawn to talking with just the women.

Women are supportive, and I can identify with the emotions that encompass women for relationships. I realize that marriage is dependent upon both men and women, but my personal navigation of the pitfalls of marriage is dependent upon the willingness of women to be there for me...even when they don't realize they are doing it.

I am an awful wife...

2010-03-03T19:46:00.000-08:00

Despite my best intentions, I fail so miserably sometimes at being the wife I want to be. My ideal wife is soft-spoken and joyful, patient, kind and slow to anger. I was anything but her today.

I yelled, cried, threw angry comments, insulted, belittled and generally did my very best to make my husband feel bad.

Why did I do that? Something exploded in me and a compilation of stresses, that are not entirely tied to him, came pouring out in the ugliest display of wifeliness (I just made up that word).

I hate her! I hate the woman who comes roaring out from deep within me and I can do nothing to control her presence. I don't even have the blessing of multiple personalities, because if I did, I would at least be able to black out when that evil side of me arrives.

She's getting louder too. I don't know if the stress of our lifestyle has finally gotten the better of me, or if I am keenly aware that we are nearing that mid-life stage, or if I am feeling more and more helpless as our kids grow, but I am grasping at something...anything...that I can control.

And now I am feeling like I can't control her either! She arrived tonight...pretty much out of the blue. After a night of fatiguing dealings with our middle kid, I came downstairs and simply lit into my husband.

Note to self: He never has, didn't tonight, and probably never will be goaded into a fight.

I felt like punching something, or expending some bottled up energy, so instead I went for a sucker punch, and now I am downstairs by myself...self-loathing.

So, how can I possibly claim that I am Growing Through Marriage when what I did tonight did not resemble the behavior of a grown up?

I catalog this because it is indeed part of what being married looks like. I am grateful that it is not a regular part of our life, but I am not going to pretend that it is not a part of what it means to be married. I didn't fight fair tonight, and I intend to make the appropriate apologies and work even harder at resolving my emotional issues in a more productive manner. (crap-that didn't sound too genuine...way too clinical) I'll say I'm sorry for the parts that were most certainly my fault, and I'll buy a punching bag. Then I just have to catch her before she wants to come out, and convince her to punch at something that is ready for it.

From a Bride on Her Wedding Day

2010-02-26T13:55:00.000-08:00

Don't ask me why I felt compelled to drag out this eight-year old poem. When I wrote it originally, I framed it and gave it to one of my best friends as a wedding shower gift. I also used this poem during the tea parties as a conversation-starter, and it was amusing to hear how else a couple might use their hands through a lifetime of marriage. For some reason it has been on my mind the last few days, so I thought I would revisit it. I have a new appreciation for it, from the perspective of a woman now married nearly 12 years. If you are so moved, feel free to add your own verses, in the comment section, about how a married couple might positively use their hands through the years.

From a Bride on Her Wedding Day

You asked for my hand, and I give it to you,
A sign of my love, forever steadfast and true.

With hands held tightly on our wedding day,
We'll vow to each other that together we'll stay.

We'll promise that each time the other might need,
A hand will reach out to comfort...or lead.

The first years we live as new husband and wife,
Our hands will be clenched, as though clinging to life.

We'll have time to enjoy every knuckle and nail,
And our love will seem like it never could stale.

Then that day will come when I'll reach for your hand,
And you'll know not to question a laboring woman's demands.

You'll smile and comfort through pain from my grip,
And you'll start to wonder if you're ready for this trip.

When the pain has subsided and new life has begun,
We'll have new hands to hold with a daughter or son.

We'll still hold our hands, though possibly spread,
Over little bellies and toes and adorable little heads.

We'll watch them grow up and hold them in our hands,
We'll wipe away tears and we'll be their biggest fans.

I'll still seek you out, as my strength and my love,
With hands I will find you and thank God above.

The children will grow and seek lives of their own,
And we'll proudly let go of the miracles we've sown.

Then once again each others' hands we will find,
A bit changed and sun-aged, maybe scarred by the grind.

We'll learn what it means to hold hands once again
And we'll remember how it was we first became friends.

We'll be thankful to hold hands when loved ones pass on
And we'll try not to think about one of us being gone.

Those times will inevitably find us some day,
Of course, holding hands when there's not much to say.

Goodbyes will seem lacking for our loving bond,
So we'll silently hold hands until one of us is gone.

Then one day will come when the split seems too long
And our hands will rejoin and we'll remember our song.

This moment, I give to you my hand to hold,
To cherish and honor until we both grow old.

A lifetime of memories to discover and know.
Take my hand, hold it tight, and together, let's go!

Copyright 2001 Meagan M. Frank
All rights reserved

Training our Kids for Marriage

2010-02-22T18:47:00.000-08:00

Marriage intrigues me. The concept and complexity of marriage is too big to contemplate at times. I have been fascinated with the intricacies of relationships since I was a little girl, and most likely because the first adult relationship I knew intimately, my parents', was a marriage that couldn't work. I realized, before I could even verbalize it, that there is a lot about relationships that is out of our control, and that is a scary proposition. I wanted to take control of what I could, so I became an avid student of relationships and marriage, well before I did "real" research for my book.

I know that in my first grade journals, I talked about how much I "loved" one of the boys in my class, and there were games we played on the playground that simulated being married. As I got older, and into high school, I studied the way my friends' parents would interact and I started to catalog some of those traits I hoped to emulate. I am sensing relationship curiosity for all three of our children, and I am thrilled that they are comfortable enough to talk to me while still at the age that they might listen. That is why I am actively promoting "Marriage Training" for our kids. My definition of "Marriage Training" is a fostering and encouraging age-appropriate relationships with members of the opposite sex.

Humans are selfish, Anyone who has raised children knows how naturally selfish people can be. Strong relationships are grounded in selflessness and I am challenged to prepare our children for the sacrifices that will be necessary for a healthy, sustainable marriage.

That starts now. So when my nine-year old hints at the fact that he likes a girl in his class, and he knows that she likes him back, I don't discourage the relationship, I just try to positively guide it toward health.

"She asked you to go watch her dance recital?" I ask excitedly.

"Yes," he coyly responds.

"Oh, would you humor me please! I have been married to the same man for twelve years, and I don't get those fun butterflies anymore. Can you just lay the scene for me so that I can live vicariously through you?"

"Okay," he laughs, because he and I have always had fun with dramatic presentation.

He dims the lights (literally, I'm not kidding)

"So, we were in math," he somberly begins.

"Oh, I can picture it now," I lovingly mock.

"We were playing a game," he continues.

"Oh, wait, so did you ask her to play the game or did she ask you?" I interrupt with enthusiasm.

"The teacher assigned us," he said. "Anyway, we were playing the game and she told me that she danced."

"Wait, hon, you already knew that she was a dancer," I interject.

"Well, I forgot," he admitted.

"Oh, hold on there bubs! I enthusiastically wave my arms. "That is cardinal sin number one when you are into a girl! You have to know what she is into. Never, ever forget what she's into!" I beg dramatically as I lean over our breakfast bar.

He laughs, and nods in agreement.

We continue talking about how he might actually want to go watch her dance, and I agree to take him if he gets all the information.

The next day, by chance, I have an opportunity to talk with his "friend who is a girl" and her mom at a school lunch. My son had pointed them out, and before I could go up to introduce myself, the girl had approached with her mom to do it first. I am pleased with the quality kid and family with whom he wants to start a relationship, and I will do what I can to help him. For instance, I will follow him sprinting out of church so that I can catch up to her mom. My son had noticed that the entire family was at church, without his "friend who is a girl", and he wanted to find out where she was. (she was at girl scouts)

There are twinges of excitement coming from the other camp in our house too. There must be something in the air. My seven and four-year-old daughters are also interested in talking about love interests and relationships. The other night we spent some time telling "secrets" in the pop-up tent in my daughter's room. I told them that "what is said in the tent, stays in the tent" so I can't reveal all the gory details, but I will say that I am hoping to positively guide them through relationship minefields too.

I am not sure that we are ever too young to learn about healthy and appropriate relationships. I was surprised by the comment of a friend of mine who overheard my oldest talking about his dating rules (group dates seventh grade, double-dates eighth grade, parent driven dates from 9th grade until he gets his license).
She told me that she asked him, "Are you really excited about all of that?"

I am not sure how he responded, but I hope he'd say yes. The most significant relationship we will ever have in our lives is our marital relationship. We spend so much time investing in academic training, career training, and athletic training, why would we neglect the training necessary to be highly successful at marriage?

Still Healing Broken Places

2010-02-18T18:19:00.000-08:00

THIS IS AN EXCERPT FROM THE BOOK PROPOSAL "Choosing to Grow-Through Marriage"
AS A PREFACE TO THIS PART...I AM DESCRIBING THE ANXIETY OF A TIME IN MY LIFE THAT LED TO DEEP AND CONTINUAL INTROSPECTION.

We bought a fixer-upper and my husband spent most days renovating, telecommuting for his “real” job and going to hockey practices and games. I tried to get used to the grey skies, to life with a two-year-old and a newborn, and to living in a place where I didn’t have a network of friends. My husband was happier and happier every day… and I was not. I was hormonal, sleep-deprived, lonely, frustrated and increasingly anxious. I realize all of what I felt through hindsight observation, but I really was unaware of what was happening to me at the time.

By middle of the hockey season, things were getting better for all of us. I had met some really great people and Haley was not nearly the needy newborn. Nate was coming through his terrible twos and the renovations were getting done. Then our experiment was brought to a screeching halt. It was made clear to my husband that the company ran better with him in Colorado and the request was made that we move back full-time. We were in our house only 5-months and then we had to turn around and head back. We had our moments of anger and frustration about this new reality, but our plans had revolved around his “real” job and we weren’t ready to risk that for our family of four. Hockey wasn’t going to be able to foot the bill, so we put the house up for sale, loaded up the cars, and started back.

I’m sure both my husband and I struggled separately with the emotions we held because of the forced change of plans, but we really didn’t talk as much about it as we did about other things. We simply resigned ourselves to yet another reality and we got so caught up in the details of the move back that we didn’t have time to grasp what we were feeling about it. That drive back was hard for a number of reasons, but most pointedly was the fact that I rolled my car just outside of Des Moines, IA.

It was really icy because a wet snow storm had just blown through and the temperatures dropped quickly just after. We were caravanning, and for a while I had both the kids in my car. We stopped for dinner in Des Moines, and the decision was made to move Nate to his dad’s truck so that he could watch a movie. Seven-month old Haley was going to go to sleep and I had planned to listen to a book on tape. So with Pudge in the lead on I-80, I followed behind with my car in cruise control and Haley quickly dozed off in the seat directly behind me. I could tell that the roads were starting to get slick so I tapped the brakes to disable the cruise and slowed just a little. We started up a slight incline and the back of Pudge’s truck did a fishtail. As I accelerated to make the hill, in that same spot, I felt the ice take control of the back wheels of my car and then as I started into a 360-degree spin toward the shoulder I realized there was nothing I could do.

I hit the grass just off the right shoulder with my back wheels first, but I was coming in sideways. Everything caught once I was off the ice, and I saw the ground come up to meet the windshield. The windshield shattered and the crunch of the frame of the car was instantaneous and terrifying. We rolled once and landed at the bottom of a hill, perpendicular to the highway, on the wheels, and with the engine still running. I couldn’t see the highway where my husband had been, and I didn’t know that he had seen my lights disappear off the shoulder in his rearview mirror. I reached for my cell phone, and simultaneously heard Haley crying in the back. I was relieved to hear her before I even had a moment to wonder about her. I jumped out of the car, phone in hand, oblivious to the freezing temperatures. I threw open Haley’s door and after merely glancing at the crushed and mangled side where Nate had been sitting, I snatched Haley out of her seat and pulled her tight to me. I stared in shock at the tv/vcr that had flown from the back of the car and had landed in the seat next to Haley’s backward-facing car seat.

I think I was trying to dial my husband when I realized that someone was yelling at me from the road. A car had pulled over and asked to help. Dazed by what was happening, I muttered something incoherent and then saw the reverse lights of my husband’s truck. He was backing up on the shoulder and I didn’t need the help of the person who had stopped. Everything was happening in exaggerated slow motion during the crash and I let down my guard a little when I saw Pudge. Before I knew it, he was ushering me through the grass to the warmth of his truck.

He put me in the driver’s seat, handed me his cell phone and said, “Tell them where we are and that you just had an accident.” He then ran back to the car to get some of our things out.

Haley was loaded in next to Nate, who thankfully had no clue what was going on, and I heard a woman talking to me saying, very matter-of-factly, “Ma’am, now where are you?”

Literally, I was between mile-markers on the side of a dark highway and I squinted to see the De Soto sign several hundreds of feet in front of me. But figuratively, I was at a major turning point in my life…I just didn’t know it yet.

I Love You For All My Heart

2010-02-12T21:25:00.000-08:00

Our Valentine's Day was last Tuesday. Yes, I live in the United States, and just like most people, the calendars in our house argue that February 14th is the actual day of the holiday, but for my husband and I, Valentine's Day was last Tuesday, February 9th.

As usual, we didn't exchange cards, candies or gifts, but rather, as a wonderful present, my husband called for a sitter, made the dinner reservations and surprised me with a date. It has only taken him twelve years to catch on to what sorts of things really seem romantic to me, and I am so happy that he has never given up on working at it.

We had no problem getting a reservation and the evening was quiet and romantic. The movie theatre was nearly empty and my husband joked that he rented it out just for us. He said that as a courtesy, he agreed to let those other three people sit in on our special movie date. We had a great time, and I was quickly reminded why I work through those occasional frustrations to keep loving this man. It is good for my heart.

It is through loving him that my heart is rewarded. It struck me when our littlest hugged me with her valentine the other day and said, "I love you for all my heart mom!" It was an innocent miscue, but when I really reflected on how the changing of that one little word changed the meaning so entirely, I realized how the rewording better explains what happens because of intimate relationships. I think it is not an accident that loving others can be so enjoyable for the one doing the loving.

Sure, we love people because we want to make them feel good, or they are an important relationship in our lives that we want to keep, but I think we often forget how loving someone pays such amazing dividends for our own hearts. Loving people makes us feel great. In one of the books that I read for my Choosing to Grow book research, there is an argument about how doing for others creates more genuine happiness. Isn't that really just an example of how loving others is good for our own hearts? Studies suggest that charitable activities bring more joy to peoples' lives than money, and from personal experience I concur with that conclusion.

I love my husband because he makes me laugh, he challenges my thinking, he is an unbelievable father to our children, he dreams big with me, he is dependable, he is talented, he makes me proud to stand next to him, he makes a difference in the lives he touches and when it is occasionally hard to love him, I just need to remember that loving him is for my heart too.

ChangeThings up to Keep the Marriage Fresh

2010-02-05T07:42:00.000-08:00

It's an old cliche', I know. Every marriage needs to be spiced up a little to keep it interesting. There is something about cliche's, though, because there is often a lot of truth to them. My husband and I have been married almost twelve years, and we are at the stage in our marriage where it is easy to get into a routine rut. We have school-aged kids who require supervision and chaperoning. They are not able to drive themselves places yet and they are at the stages in their lives where scheduling is tricky. There is a lot of child-maintenance, and there is not a whole lot of time left in a day for marriage maintenance. It takes effort to work at that most important relationship in our house, but I remain committed to prioritizing the marital relationship first.

My husband turns forty this year, and although I am younger than he is, we are most definitely at a mid-life stage in our marriage. We've created habits that are just "the way things have always been." In the hours after the kids have been put to bed and before we retire for the night, we hang out in front of the tv with our laptops. We rarely have time for dates because our jobs keep us busy on the weekends and the kids' schedules take up much of our remaining free time. We know that we need to change things.

So, what are we doing to keep things interesting?

Well this week, we moved furniture...

We spent the last day and a half moving furniture from room to room and inside the rooms too. We moved my husband's office to a bigger space and the kids are now each in their own rooms. In our room, we moved our bed to a different wall, and it is amazing how great it feels to have new spaces to occupy.

We focus on relishing the seasons...
My husband and I have three jobs between the two of us, and all three of the jobs are seasonal jobs. It is important to us that we are not in the mundane routines week-to-week, and when things are seasonal, the seasons regularly change. When my husbands' hockey season is over (he is a college coach) we move easily to that next stage. His second job is as the operations manager for the Renaissance Festival in Colorado, and although his summers are busy, it is a season that we enjoy with the new spaces we occupy there. I coach college soccer in the fall, and the strategies to survive that incredibly busy time makes and keeps things interesting, albeit a little stressful.

Recognizing our life as a choice...
There truly is no such thing as being stuck. As much as we may feel like our lives are at the whim of children or schedules or relationships that suck energy out of us, we ultimately control what and where we spend our time. It is the attitude about the things we feel we have to do that provides some control in seemingly out-of-control situations. I have a choice to sit routinely on the couch at night, or to take up a new activity, and if I am bored with certain routines, it is up to me to make those changes. The same goes for the mundane of a marriage relationship. Every human encounter is a fluid one, and as routine as a marriage may feel, it is always a choice to stay that way. Granted it becomes the choice of both people in a marriage to make any real lasting change, but it has to start somewhere, and if I am feeling stuck, it makes sense that I do something about it to make it fresh again...even if just for a little while.

Matchmaker, matchmaker?

2010-01-22T10:52:00.000-08:00

My husband and I found each other in college. I knew pretty quickly that he and I were meant for a lifetime together, and he eventually came to the same conclusion, but we both ultimately decided that we were a good couple. When I accepted our fated union, I really never expected that we would be anything but perfectly matched for one another, and I think that expectation has made all the difference.

There are days, I admit, when I question the cosmic wisdom that claims he and I are meant to be together. The days when the differences are more apparent than the similarities, I just remind myself that sometimes opposites complement each other better than if both people are exactly the same.

So, I wonder, now, after twelve years of marriage and sixteen years of being together, whether we would still be compatible enough to survive the guantlet of an online dating service. If we listed that we were single and searching and we could lie about the children who already bind us, would we have the necessary characteristics to be matched up again?

Our individual preferences and dreams likely don't entirely match up with the life that we've shaped through the years. I'm sure he'd list his passion for sports and coaching and I'd admit I do enjoy watching all kinds of sporting events. He'd brag about his handy-man skills and I think I would reluctantly admit my fear of fixing things. I plan and organize and he flies by the seat of his pants. I wonder if that would move us closer together or further apart on the matchmaking scale. I love books and writing, and he enjoys creating the musical backdrop to any mood. Does the matchmaking formula look for such complementary characteristics or is the criterion more dependent upon similarities?

We are a mixed bag and some things we share almost exactly, while other aspects of our personalities are so different, I can hardly understand how we could possibly live peacefully in the same house. He's a computer whiz, I'm an impatient user who threatens frequently to give up the computer and just buy a typewriter. He does the bills, I buy the groceries and I am apparently in charge of cleaning the house too, but some things just don't happen at all. We both avoid the laundry, but reluctantly wash clothes when we are working through piles of dirty laundry to locate our children who have become buried in the mess. I take care of health care, and I record our lives with cameras and camcorders while he works to supply financial stability for our house. Would a matchmaking service find our strengths and weaknesses as complementary as they've become? Would it have been able to predict how effectively we would fashion ourselves one around the other?

I don't know, and, as tempting as it is to see if a matchmaking service would match us up again today, I am too chicken to find out. It would be a dangerous game to play if we went out looking for our "best" match through a service that claims expertise in pairing couples. We would undoubtedly find other matches who could fit into our preferences and desires, and in all liklihood there might be a number of people who could be potential matches. It would open the door to justified questioning and could cause irreversible damage to the house we've built together.

There is no such thing as a perfect match and there are other people who would satisfy relationship desires and needs, but of course in a unique and different way than my husband does. It is hard to make the argument that it would be any better, because there are always gaps in human relationships. No matter who the two members of any given pair are, the relationship becomes an entity of its own, and the survival of that relationship is completely dependent upon the willingness of both members of the pair to give equally to the union.

I know that we've become the best possible match for the other, whether a service agreed with us or not. I guess I'll stop wondering how someone else might match us up and concentrate more on building up the match that we already have.

Accepting I'm Not His First True Love

2010-01-08T19:16:00.000-08:00

This morning it was below zero outside when the alarm went off. We purposefully set it every night so that we can hit the snooze at least once before we have to rouse the troops to get them off to school. As usual, my husband cuddled up closer to me and tightened the covers around us making it even harder to get out of bed. We quickly had company, as our youngest crawled up my side and then on top of the covers and me. I love that time in the morning. Whether it is just he and I, or all five of us, I love when we don't have to be anywhere and we can just be together for a little bit cuddled in the covers of our bed. I knew this morning wasn't one of those times, but my husband joked, "Let's just stay in bed today."

"Ok, and then we can sell off parts of the bed when I am no longer being paid for my job," I reminded him.

"I know, but it's just so cold outside."

We procrastinated for a few minutes, and then with much more energy, my husband threw off the covers and said, "Yeah, you better get going, I have to leave at 3:30, so you need to get to work so you can get home."

I chuckled to myself about the change in attitude because I knew that the new energy happened when my husband realized that he was going to be able to spend some time with his true love.

It is a love affair that I do not yet understand, and I probably never will...completely. He is hardly as passionate about much else in his life as he is about his love. He will wake up at ungodly hours and stay up way too late just to get his fix. He times his haircuts and shaving around it, and it is the only time (aside from weddings and funerals) that you will find him in a suit and tie. He will gladly track down a sitter so he can go do it and if we really sat down to think about it, all of the decisions we have made about the jobs we keep and the places we live are dependent upon his love.

I told him that this morning...that I felt like the "other woman." He acted appalled for a second, and then said, "No, what does that mean?"

"Oh, you know...that seductive tigress. She has so much more than I'll ever be able to give you."

"WHAT are you talking about?" He looked at me really confused now.

"Don't try to pretend that hockee (mockingly and ineffectually pronounced with a french accent) doesn't hold the real keys to your heart." He smiled now, relieved that he hadn't forgotten about a mistress or something.

"Oh, hockey is the other woman, huh? I don't think so."

He's right, she's not really the other woman, but she is his other love. He has loved and identified with hockey for twenty years longer than he has known me. It is an enormous part of who he is, and it's not that I am finally coming to terms with that, but rather I am acknowledging the importance of helping him to foster that relationship.

We spend our winters in Minnesota, complaining about bitter temps and questioning daily it seems our decision to live here. We don't have to be here, but we choose to. Among other reasons, Minnesota is where his love was born, and he is thrilled to be able to share it with his kids.

There were indications that I would probably never be his greatest love. The first year he and I dated, I was hard-pressed to see much enthusiasm from him at all. I know now he was reeling from hockey-playing circumstances that were rocking his world, but at any rate, he was hardly happy about much. When I came to Minnesota with him for the first time, he introduced me to a side of him that I hadn't yet seen.

One of the mornings we were staying at his mom's house, my husband shook me out of bed and dragged me upstairs because I just had to see this. You have to realize that I expected that he and I were going to be married some day, and I was on the lookout for signs that an engagement was pending. I thought he had sprung a romantic leak, and I ran upstairs with him, anticipating a surprise kneeling. He ushered me over to the window and worked to wipe away condensation that inevitably builds when it is cold enough outside. My expectation shifted from ring... to car (because I needed one of those too) and I peered out to see a large city truck spraying water on the snow. My immediate thought was, "what is that idiot doing?" and before I could utter any syllable of confusion my husband yelled (bounding mind you) "They're flooding the rink...they're flooding the rink!!!" After a few years living our winters here in Minnesota, I can see that passion starting to form in each of our children now too. Their eyes light up the same way his did when the rink is being flooded for the first time.

They can do something that I will never be able to do. They can skate and they can play hockey, and my husband can be around a game that formed him and that he loves with literally every fiber of his being. I just know a little piece of him would die, if I ever asked him to give it up, and because I love him, I never will. He deserves a chance to be near what he loves, and to be honest, it gives him the energy to better love the people and life around him, and that includes me. I'm starting to love the other woman, for helping to form the man that loves me too.

Our marriage will last because he leaves me...and I'm okay with that!

2010-01-02T18:25:00.000-08:00

The running of our family depends upon separation, and without a willingness to be vulnerable and trusting, our marriage would never last through this phase of our lives. I look at those magical couples who are with each other more than they are apart (most often the kidless-dog-owning-ones), and I am partially awe-struck and generally impressed, but I think the major emotion I feel is one of sadness. For a while I was sad that it wasn’t us. Although I hadn’t spent any childhood energy on fantasizing about my husband or our relationship, I think somewhere in the depths of my heart I had hoped that once I was married I would be “with” that person forever. My current sadness for those have-to-be-together-all-the-time-couples is that statistically many of them may never see the other side of married life, and have a chance to enjoy the confidence that comes with knowing you are loved and honored even when you are not in the physical presence of your spouse. I see heart-linked couples and they sometimes seem more concerned about continually reminding each other that they are connected than they are about simply enjoying each other’s company.

Now granted, I know that not every husband is completely honest about what he might be doing when he is not with his wife, nor does every wife make only faithful decisions when faced with temptation. I count myself among the lucky that I am in a relationship based on open and genuinely honest communication. I have come to trust my husband with every fiber of my being, and he generally does exactly what he says he is going to do. I, too, try to be true to my word, and we’ve even talked openly about what it would mean if one of the two of us wanted to cheat on our marriage. We both agree that if there was a desire to be adulterous, there would be nothing that the other spouse could do to keep it from happening. It is so hard to imagine him stepping out on us, that I don’t even think I can fake what it would feel like. My ability to identify with the “cheating wife” is also such a foreign concept that it is easier for me to just talk about why trust works for us.

My husband and I have been married nearly twelve years, and he has worn his wedding ring one day. For our wedding and reception, his band was on the ring finger of his left hand, but starting on the first full day of our marriage, and every day since, he has kept his ring on a gold chain around his neck. He has been to bars, he has been around single women, he has gone to raucous parties and that entire time he has gone with a naked hand. My seven-year-old daughter asked him one day how anyone knows he is married if he doesn’t wear his ring on his hand. His answer was simple, “It doesn’t matter if anyone else knows I am married, it matters that your mom and I know we are married.” It’s true, and I am starting to understand the depth of that statement more and more.

I do a lot of things alone with our kids, and on and off through the last couple of years, I have allowed negative emotions to creep into my thinking about what that must look like to the casual observer. I know that my oldest overheard a family talking about us at church and one of the kids whispered, “I think they don’t have a dad.” My kids know they have a dad…they have a great dad, and I know I have a husband…what does it really matter what anyone else thinks? Our lives are goofy, and for two months of the year we have a long distance, commuting relationship. My husband lives 900 miles away while I hold down the fort with the kids. For one month we are high-fiving each other as we both head out of state to work on the weekends and a parade of family and hired help keep the schedules running and the house afloat. For four months we work together from home during the week and then evenings on the weekend I am home alone or running kids from here to there. For maybe one month total through the year we are the “typical” married couple with our own work to do and we come together for the weekend as a family. Normal is most definitely the exception in our house, and I feel blessed that I am finally starting to embrace that.

What does it mean to be “with” someone without actually being “with” someone? That’s what forced separation has taught me. It means that you know someone out there makes decisions that include you. It means that you make decisions with that person in mind too, and there is a movement toward a common goal that happens every day no matter where we are. Some people never get to this point in their relationships, and for that, I am sad for them. I no longer prescribe to the ideology that everyone deserves that family picture that looks polished and beautiful but that is based on the gloss more than the goodness. What everyone deserves is someone who loves them unconditionally and who sacrifices for their goals and dreams. What everyone deserves is a chance to confidently go through life knowing that they’ll never be hurt on purpose. What everyone deserves is a chance to be missed and the joy that comes with reuniting. When a marriage is based in truth and grounded in love there is not one way that the family photo looks from day to day, and even if I have to photoshop my husband in, I know he is my husband, and I am his wife.

Marry Mr. Right NOT Mr. Everything

2009-12-30T05:35:00.000-08:00

For some reason, in this country, it is promoted, albeit subtly, that women should aspire to date and then ultimately marry the powerful among us. Well, who is that exactly? Starting in high school, the cool kids are often the kids who are the most successful on the playing field or whose parents have the most money and thus the most toys. I probably need to back up...it starts even earlier than that. Probably as early as 4th grade, it is cheered when the athletic boys begin to emerge and, amazingly enough, the 4th grade girls start to notice. Those kids who were fortunate enough to be born into affluent families are also starting to be more attractive than the kids whose families may struggle for material things, and the epic battle has begun.

There is nothing new about the jockeying for position to win the prettiest girl or the most powerful boy, but what needs to be new is an awareness of how that battle is playing out. We have two girls and one boy in our house, and I am fiercely protective of their hearts. I, of course, hope that they can achieve some modicum of success and that we'll be blessed with a number of grandchildren, but of even greater importance to me, is how well they will guard their hearts and how relationships will be valued more than material possessions or power. The allure is undoubtedly impressive, and it will never ultimately be my choice, but the track record of powerful men is not a good one, and I hope my kids at least pay attention to that.

When I arrived on my college campus, as a freshman, I was warned about two things to avoid: that strange-smelling hall in one of the dorms and the hockey players. There was no in-depth discussion as to why those two things should be avoided, but I felt confident that the advice was well-intentioned. Looking back on it now, I think the strange-smelling hall was a no-brainer, but the hockey player warning took some observation to understand. The primary sport at our school was hockey, and the young men who played on that team had the most "power". There were throngs of girls who followed the players everywhere and several could be seen waiting for them outside the locker room, or the dorm rooms or parties. The players acted as though they had earned this attention, and had little regard for the emotional drama that often followed their trysts.

It is no wonder that it took my husband five requests before I would accompany him on a date. He was a hockey player, but he was unlike the "typical hockey player", and when my friends were able to convince me of that, I accepted his invitation. He was not, and still is not, the typical hockey player. He had achieved a level of success, but he also suffered some humility that likely changed his status of "power". I lucked out, but some of the girls who dated and even married several of the other sports stars from their schools were not as lucky. There have been a number of hearts broken and families shattered, and I truly fear the damage is not completely done.

There are some men, who very possibly through no fault of their own, should never be allowed to marry. Those men are often highly successful athletes, movie or music superstars, or high profile politicians. Their relationship woes are sometimes more newsworthy than the achievements of these men, and the list is long and unfortunately, growing. On a quick hunt on the internet I was able to compile a short, but impressive list of those "powerful" men who are still incredibly powerful, but who have spent more energy on career and fame than on their marital relationships.

Tiger Woods, Michael Jordan, Lance Armstrong, John Elway, Brad Pitt, Tom Hanks, Donald Trump and Bill Clinton have either all strayed from their marital vows or divorced. What this does to the fabric of marriage is irreversible. Young boys aspire to be like these famous men, and the more prevalent infidelity is the more acceptable it will become and the importance of guarding a relationship takes a backseat to power and prestige. There are all sorts of levels of power, and many of the traits found in these superstars can be found in much less important men, but who have a level of power in their own right.

Red flags for women looking to marry the men they adore:
If he thinks of himself as a deserving superstar.
If he has not had a "humbling" experience.
If life has come easily for him and success followed.
If he believes others should work for him and he has
put in all the work he'll ever need.
If he is the "best" looking guy in his group of friends.
If he has ever cheated when he was supposedly dating someone.
If he enjoys the party scene much more than intimate conversation.
If he is from a broken home and keeps a distance from family.

Traits of Mr. Right...even if he doesn't have everything:
If he feels a strong connection to his family...especially his
parents.
If he is a hard-worker who takes pride in his work.
If he has some humility and can admit his weaknesses.
If he helps to promote the worth of the girls he dates.
If he is average-looking and cares about his overall health.
If he is willing to sacrifice for others around him.
If he will engage in deep conversations about "real" topics.
If he has lifelong friends who still keep in touch with him.

I could never make an argument that the famous Mr. Wrongs were without any Mr. Right traits, because in all likelihood they had some of the characteristics that would convince someone to marry him. My point is simply that to marry for power or popularity is possibly an incredibly slippery slope. If he has adoring fans, and is often in the spotlight, the quiet night at home with a wife and a small child or two, will never fully satisfy his needs.

This list has been compiled as the longterm goals I have for the children in my house. I cannot fully form the intentions of their hearts, but I can point out the pitfalls and minefields that, I guess thankfully, are in the daily news and an unfortunate thread of modern life.

WARNING: Marrying for Romantic Love Could be Dangerous for your Marriage

2009-08-09T06:25:00.000-07:00

The euphoric phase of a relationship does not last the entirety of a marriage, and if you are lucky, not through the courtship phase either. It is a state of being that evokes butterflies, adrenalin, and an altered state of logic. You know the couples you can identify who are in this stage. It is often depicted best with young lovers. They rarely take their eyes off of one another, they often hold hands for a time that makes others in the room uncomfortable, and most of their waking moments are dedicated to finding a way to be together.

A study highlighted in a Monitor on Psychology article written by Sadie Dingfelder found that romantic love was better explained as a human drive than an emotion. Helen Fisher, PhD, an anthropology professor at Rutgers, explains “All of the basic drives are associated with the dopamine system, and so is romantic love.”

The article goes on to say that the rush of dopamine often associated with romantic love can explain why couples stay up all night talking and why many people who are experiencing overwhelming romantic love have trouble focusing on anything except the object of their affection.

Dingfelder writes that the studies create “a picture of love acting in a manner not unlike cocaine, which also works through the dopamine system and causes intense craving, says Fisher. ‘Addictions are very powerful, and all of the addictions are associated with dopamine in one way or another,’ Fisher notes.”

There is no set rule that people cannot make reasonable decisions about marriage when hyped up on dopamine, but my inclination is that your chances of getting through the realities of marriage increases if the decision is made in a sober state. Couples who experience a level of dopamine that inspires them to a lifelong commitment, will be disappointed when the person with whom the “high” is associated turns out to be nothing more than another flawed person. No wonder so many movies and reality shows stop at the union. It is too disappointing to watch people come down from the high. The tension and longing for the affection of another is more entertaining than what happens after the romantic peak.

It is biologically important that the initial attraction that puts someone “into” a state of love happens regularly. It is important for the survival of the human species that people find a mate, commit to being with that mate and agree to have little ones together. I’ll go over later the benefits of such a union, and why it is so advantageous to be in a monogamous marriage for life, but for now this blissful state of being “in love” does its job to bring us together.

The problem with the physiological changes that we experience while we are “in love” is that we often make decisions and choices that are not what will be best for the long haul. If we rely just on the emotions that being in love evokes, we are setting ourselves up to be disappointed with the inevitable “down” that happens with every relationship. It is of course possible to find the “high” in a new relationship, but for those interested in finding and keeping a lifelong, monogamous relationship, being in love cannot be the only part of a decision to marry.

After the high wears off, love will continue to be paramount to the success of a marriage, and it is important to investigate the dynamics of love with whom you choose. Love is the key, but a life full of romantic love is an impossibility. At least with the women I polled, and in my own experience, romantic love cannot be sustained for the span of a marriage. Instead, there needs to be a reservoir of platonic, familial, and even self-love that can propel the relationship.

This is an excerpt from a book in process Choosing to Grow: Through Marriage. All rights are reserved.

True Love is... Freezing Your Butt Off

2009-07-31T20:55:00.000-07:00

New cute shirt. Check

More than five minutes spent on hair. Check.

Make-up actually applied. Check.

Kids dropped off for the night. Check.

Hotel reservation. Check.

Outrageous expectations. Checked at the door.

This time of year, time alone with my husband outside of our condo is rare and precious, so an arranged date night is exciting. I get pumped up about the night out, but I am not fanatical about it anymore. I used to build up these rare dates to such a level that I was often disappointed and then frustrated about things that were out of my control. Last night’s date could have been a night out with friends for drinks ending in hot romance at our hotel. (fill in your own fantasy here) Instead, we spent our night out with friends for dinner and then we were pulled away by a work emergency for my husband. We spent the rest of the night rambling around in a run-down ’82 pick-up truck, tossing full boxes of food in and out as we transported food from one broken freezer to a sub-zero warehouse.

Granted, we live in Minnesota in the winters, so it is somewhat expected that some of our dedication to one another would include exposing ourselves to freezing temps. When the driveway is covered in snow or the windshield caked in ice, it is loving and kind to be the warm-hearted soul who chips away at the ice or shovels the snow for the spouse who stands huddled in the doorway. It happens in our house, and more now than a few years ago. I must note that the spouse who is huddled inside is not always me.

For a while, at the beginning of our marriage, I had this inaccurate impression that it was the husband’s job to take care of the wife. Every girl wants to be taken care of and to feel loved by a doting husband, but what I have found, is that every guy, and most definitely my guy, feels that way too. Most men, in fact, need women to dote and care for them much more than we women need them. Men suffer most when they are not in a marital relationship and women suffer most when they are in an unhappy relationship. Studies have concluded that men have a longer and healthier lifespan when married, and I am starting to understand what that means for me as a wife to that needy man. Don’t get me wrong, my husband is an incredibly efficient man who can do practically anything, but I have spent some time the last few years accepting my role as a helper, and our overall relationship has improved. Luckily, with the sacrifices I started to make, my husband began to sacrifice willingly too.

This week it was me throwing boxes onto palates and helping to get things stacked inside the walk-in freezer, but he too has frozen. Last year when I was coaching a soccer game in pouring rain, he suffered through the game, huddling the kids under a large trash bag and all out of support for me.

I was, and still am, a little disappointed that our date was changed, but I’m glad that I have gotten better about accepting each shift in expectation as a new experience, and that those shifts are not necessarily bad. We had fun laughing about the twist our “date night” had taken. We acknowledged how great it was to be out and about late at night without the kids, and we both chose to simply make the most of it.

I am finding happiness in the little things, letting go of unrealistic and fanatical expectations. Each moment is a gift, each conversation worth relishing and... freezing can be good for a marriage too.

If you want to be happy…
For an hour, take a nap
For a day, go fishing
For a month, get married
For a year, get an inheritance
For a lifetime, help someone.

River Rafting Through Marriage

2009-07-30T10:48:00.000-07:00

“Half the boats that go through that part of the river flip over,” our guide somberly explained as we watched the lead boats approach the toughest part of the river.

As a boating team we hadn’t had the most stellar rafting day up to that point. We had spent some time trying to free ourselves from a rock, losing one of our rafters in the process. She didn’t go down the river at all, and we were eventually able to lift the boat from its submerged state, but our guide had to use his belt for the first time all summer. We thought we had collected ourselves at lunch, determined to have a more successful outing in the afternoon. Literally yards from our second drop-in point, our guide had suggested that we try to “surf” an eddy while we waited for the other boats to launch. We got sucked in by the powerful water, again becoming submerged, and this time our guide had to deploy the life line as he swam to shore to pull us out.

Our confidence was shaken, and we had been forced to paddle continuously to catch up with the boats in our group. There were four women and a guide in our boat, while the boats ahead of us had five or six rafters including at least one man. I was starting to understand why our guide sounded less than enthusiastic when he realized that he was going to be in a boat with four women. We didn’t weigh as much as the other boats, slowing our travel, and despite my desire to admit otherwise, men have more brute strength. We wanted not to be nervous about the description of the upcoming rapids, but our experiences up to that point made it hard to remain calm.

We watched, with wide eyes and gaping mouths, as the first two boats in our group navigated the class 4 rapid. The first boat ducked out of view for a moment, and then we saw bodies and oars flying as the bottom of the boat became visible. We knew our friends had been thrown and we marveled at the speed and force with which they had been flung from the boat. The second boat approached that same spot, and again we watched as they were jostled and then flipped. Our panic was evident, and our guide could sense our trepidation.

“Ladies! Look at me! We can do this! We have to work together and you are going to make it if you do it right! Listen to me, and when I tell you to go high side left, you will put yourselves high side left and stay there with everything you got.” He yelled with authority and encouragement.

As he spoke, and we practiced the instruction, we were still floating toward the impressive rapid. We were getting closer, and each of us took a serious posture gripping our oars. We approached the rock and slid to the left of the boat as instructed. It was an instantaneous collision that included water spray, the overwhelming noise of water on rock, and involuntary movement as our bodies reacted to the boat motion. In less than two seconds we were past the obstacle, having been thrown about inside the boat, but most definitely still inside. We cheered and celebrated with relief. The boat directly behind us had also successfully navigated the rapid, and exactly half of the boats in our group had remained intact.

It was an amazing experience, and a phenomenal memory for our boat and also for the boat of our friends who were thrown out. The pictures of the turned over boat were definitely more interesting, and we looked at those images over and over again. As I studied the pictures of our boat I realized something about the experience that relates directly to what I have come to discover about navigating marriage.

Using the rafting analogy, being married is like navigating a tumultuous river. The personality of each boat is unique and no trip down the river is quite like any other. We all do essentially the same preparation: putting on life jackets and helmets and getting instruction about what to do if you fall out, but until you are on the river, and facing the hidden boulders, you cannot really appreciate the work it is going to take to get down.

In my marriage, I think my husband and I had boarded our raft with the proper safety attire, but we didn’t necessarily have the most experienced guide. We were operating with our own ideas about how to get down the river, and it created some uncomfortable situations. If you have ever rafted, you know that you have to be in sync with the other rafters, or you don’t go where you are supposed to be on the river. Six years ago we ran into an unexpected rapid, and I was thrown from our marriage boat. Rafting experts will tell you that you have three choices when you are thrown from a boat. You can put your feet out in front of you, keep your head above the water and float down bouncing off of rocks. You can swim aggressively to shore or to another boat, or you can swim aggressively back to your own boat. When I fell out, I knew I wanted to swim back aggressively to my own boat, but I needed some help to get there. After all the interviews and books read, I was able to climb back into our boat, and with the encouragement and willingness of my husband we have been able to put a reliable guide in the back to help get us down the river. The guide in our marriage boat is the collection of stories and advice that I gained through the tea party conversations. All of my research has helped me to identify some of those hidden boulders as well as how to best navigate the protruding rocks.

I found out, after our day of rafting, that our friends’ boat was given no specific instruction for how to get through the worst rapid of the day. In our boat, our guide told us what to expect and then we also practiced our technique. There was no guarantee that our instruction would keep us in the boat, but we were more prepared than the first boat who had received no instruction, and who hadn’t had the advantage of watching other boats tip. River rafting is hard work, and it can evoke fear, anxiety, frustration, embarrassment, anger and pain. Marriage is no different, but like rafting, if navigated with the best equipment, a reliable guide and a willing partner, it can be an incredible adventure that is full of joy.

Choosing to Grow Chapter Reading

2009-07-28T22:09:00.000-07:00

Join me!

Chickening Out

2009-07-20T23:20:00.001-07:00

I swear on a stack of Bibles that this really happened to us tonight…because really, who can make this stuff up?

“What do you want for dinner?” I unenthusiastically ask.

“I don’t care. What do you want for dinner?” My husband echoes with indifference. “Do you feel like Chinese?”

“No!” The biggest yells from the backseat, “I just had Japanese for lunch.”

“I want a restaurant.” The littlest voice pipes in from her car seat.

“You just want chicken nuggets…and we have some of those at home.“ I point out.

“No, I want a restaurant,” she insists.

“What are you going to order at the restaurant?” I query.

“I want…(dramatic pause) chicken nuggets.” She answers honestly.

So, the decision is made that my husband and I are going to get something for us and we would cook nuggets for the kids at home. We pass a sign on the highway for a chicken joint that we used to frequent, years ago, but we often laughed about the fact that they never really had the chicken that we ordered.

“We’d like the 8-piece chicken meal, mostly drumsticks please.” My husband yells out the window.

“Spicy or mild,” the box squawks.

“Mild, please.”

“So 3-piece chicken meal?”

“No, 8-piece meal with mostly drumsticks please.”

“A 2-piece meal?”

“No,” he looks over baffled at me as I try to stifle my giggles. “An 8-piece meal with mild drumsticks.” He enunciates.

“Come to the window please.” The frustrated woman requests.

As we drive around the corner, we cannot help but to laugh at how ridiculous that attempt at a fast-food order was. We get to the window and the woman pulls on her headset explaining that she cannot hear very well. We place our 8-piece order once again and she leaves the window for a minute.

“We only have 3 pieces of chicken right now. It will be 12 minutes for the rest of the order.” She explains.

“I think we should just go get something else.” I lean toward the car window to say.

My husband thanks me for making the decision to abandon the ill-fated trip to the chicken restaurant that too frequently does not have chicken, and we belly laugh all the way back to the highway. As entertaining as our attempt to get chicken was, we are back to our dilemma of needing to find some food for dinner. We head toward our temporary condo home and eventually decide on another fast food restaurant that is one of our favorites. It is known for its chicken bols and burritos and we get excited about our change of craving.

The kids and I stay in the car as my husband heads in with my order. I find myself talking with the kids and I realize that my husband has been gone longer than would be expected. I glance toward the door and I don’t see him headed toward the car, but I note that there are a lot of people in the restaurant. I chat a little longer with the kids and then, sans husband, I look back at the door and I find him silhouetted by one of the windows.

I joke with my oldest, “If they are out of chicken, I will absolutely die.”

Several more minutes pass and eventually my husband emerges with a bag of food and a look of utter disbelief.

He shakes his head as he gets back in the car, saying, “Well, I’m not sure what we’ve got in here, but the good news is, I didn’t pay a dime for it. Unbelievably, they ran out of chicken.”

“What? You have got to be kidding! That is nuts!” I laugh.

My husband told me that he had ordered our dinner and when it was apparent that they were not going to have enough chicken for our order, the restaurant employee offered my husband beef instead, and now, completely out of principle, he told the worker that we were really planning on being able to have chicken for dinner. After he was told that he would have to wait ten minutes, the manager informed my husband that our dinner would be free, and for all the effort that we went through for our chicken, it only seems right.

Reading the Tea Leaves

2009-07-19T21:04:00.001-07:00

Glasses of lemonade and tea. Check. A plate of cookies. Check. A laptop set to run through power point presentation. Check. Children in the basement with a movie set to go. Check. Manuscript in hand. Check. All that I needed were some bodies to fill the seats we had set up in my grandmother’s living room, and I would be ready to run through my first book presentation.

It is a scene reminiscent of the numerous tea parties I attended that got me here in the first place, but I am the one in the hot seat this time. I am relieved to see some of the faces who attended a tea party at the start of the project, and I’m thankful for the new additions who have come just to listen to the reading. At every research party I attended, I was the note-taker and the interviewer. I never shared my story, nor the darkness that motivated me to make changes in my life, but the readings are the story behind the project.

Each time I read the first chapter I am thrust back to that difficult time in my life and in my marriage, but it does seem to be getting easier each time I let a little more of it go. So much has changed and I am at such a better and happier place than I was six years ago, that I had to reassure my listeners today that I have moved well beyond the malaise of those memories. The chapters after the first one are about how I built back what was broken and mended what was weak, as well as what I have found that will be important for the years ahead, but that is not what I read today.

I was unaware during the reading that one of the women had started to cry, and I guess when the story is sad, it is an okay thing to evoke that kind of response. Over the course of this project, I have learned to expect the unexpected, and now that I have started the readings, I should be just as prepared for surprises. Some will be better than others, and I have no doubt that, as I diligently pursue publishers, I will be disappointed with rejection, but I feel safe enough to stick my neck out. There are too many women who have supported me along the way to not land softly on those hard rocks ahead. My gratitude is very real for the women who came today and offered words of support and encouragement. This project is moved by the engine of such women, and it is for them and because of what they do for me, that I hope to have a chance to see this book in print someday.

From Cops and Robbers to Ipods and Touchscreens

2009-07-18T08:28:00.000-07:00

There are undoubtedly amazing, mind-blowing products in development at a phone company near you, but I am fairly certain the conversations in their board rooms don’t go quite like the one I was privy to hear yesterday afternoon.

Product Developer: Hey, I think we need an I Flip Touch that is a TomTom.

Bossman: Okay, sounds good. Just make sure that it has directions and maps.

PD: Okay, thanks.

PD (after hanging up and calling a probable co-worker): Hey, we can do it. Call me if you need anything.

Flitting in and out of phone fantasy, my kids created imaginary computers that were the size of a DS with touchscreen capability, along with a flip phone that could hold all the music in the world. Not much entertains me as much as the inner workings of my kids’ brains.

It is an elaborate imaginary game that started three days ago, and has evolved into multiple paper representations of their creations. There are phones stalled in the middle of a brick breaker game, and others that are poised for the multiple texting conversations that have happened in conjunction with the product development. All hand-drawn letters and numbers, cut to shape by a ridiculous pair of clown scissors that they dug out of some box around here. The flip phone design has morphed because the early models kept breaking at the hinge point, turning one square paper phone into two smaller ones. They have set up shop to sell each other these products, printed receipts for purchase and dealt with pretend angry customers because they don’t have in stock what the customer wanted.

My favorite part of this game is that they have assigned each phone a ringtone…produced on demand by my oldest who mans the ipod that is currently connected to portable speakers. He has six phones, with six different ringtones, and personalities to go with them. There is one ringtone for the bossman, another for the co-worker and yet another for the 18-year-old version of himself. Both he and his younger sister can keep straight what mask they should don when a certain ringtone starts blaring, and they get into character immediately.

After pretend conversations on the paper phone, they have reported that a co-worker has been fired or that their mother seems frustrated that she cannot track them down. The game has followed us to the mall, to the park and to a party. They brought in a guest developer while they were playing with their friends, but they have been able to shelve their phones, and the game, when there are real people with whom they can talk.

I suppose I could be concerned about the infatuation with technology, but I would never want to discourage such creativity. It baffles me how much they do know about iphones and ringtones and touchscreens, because neither my husband nor I have an iphone, a song for a ringtone or a touchscreen to speak of. Electronics in our house right now consist of a cell phone for both me and my husband, one ipod for the five of us, 3 portable cd players, a boombox cd player, two laptops, a Tom Tom, a camera, a tv , a camcorder and a Wii. Until I started compiling that list, I really didn’t think we had that much, but I guess we are more plugged in than I thought. I do limit the screen time daily to no more than an hour in the morning and then maybe an hour at night. I monitor what they watch, we talk regularly about internet safety, and they are on their computer games while I am in the room with them. But technology surrounds them.

It is the life they see. Outside of the growing list of products in our house, we buy groceries at touchscreen scanners, and a version of the products they have been pretending to create are all over tv commercials, magazine ads and television shows. A friend of mine put it best when he said, “We (adults) are technology immigrants, they (kids) are technology natives.” It is inevitable that today’s kids will be technologically savvy, and like anything else, it is not inherently bad if there is balance to that passion. Who knows, maybe they will be part of a team that invents the ultimate in handheld technology, and I hope that the ease with which they have made decisions as they’ve played this game will follow them into the corporate world, and more importantly to every relationship they have from here on out.

Reluctant Reader

2009-07-17T07:50:00.001-07:00

It’s about time, but I’m still not sure I’m ready. The public debut of my first chapter will happen, first, this Sunday for my grandmother and her friends and then more officially the 29th of July. I do hope I’ll be able to keep my hands still and my voice steadied enough to actually read what I’ve written. I forget that there are only a handful of people who have heard the story, and even fewer who have read my written recollection of it. It is nerve-racking stuff to lay your life out there in a collection of letters and words to be judged, analyzed and felt. It is possible that I would have been better off writing fiction pieces and pretending that the characters and their faults are not my own, but I can’t function there. The heroine that I write in my own non-fiction story will definitely disappoint her fans, but she is more human than a caped crusader.

It’s a story that is not any more impressive or important than any other person’s story, the difference may simply be that I am willing to write mine down. It reflects a time in my life that I would rather pretend never happened, but it did, and I’ve grown past it. It is dramatic, however, and the emotions should have waned for me in the last six years, but when I start to read it, I am right back there again. Hopefully it will be cathartic to start the separation from this story. Eventually it will be in a book that will be outside of my control and each time I can release it a little more. This is part of the process that I didn’t quite anticipate, but I am open to being moved where I need to go.

I sense that this project and this story have happened outside of my will. I trust that it is for a purpose greater than me, and for that, I will subject myself to the uncomfortable. My hands will sweat, my stomach will churn, my voice will probably shake, but this is the next logical step in a process that must continue. My husband has forgiven me, our marriage has been put back on track, and I just hope that those who hear the story are just as forgiving.

Say What You Need to Say...

2009-07-16T10:33:00.002-07:00

It might be my impression…but it feels like I am pulling that relationship short straw lately. I try not to complain, and it is a failure, in my eyes, to give in to negative thoughts that insist on bombarding my mind, but man is it hard. It is hardest when the slights happen because of people with whom I have lifelong relationships. I watch older women, who I admire most, and I can hardly imagine that their brains even know how to think negatively, and I doubt their reactions to frustration would be anything but acceptance with quiet grace.

I am not quiet and I have only a modicum of grace, so how can I move past the emotions I feel when I perceive that I’m being slighted? My recent solution has been to do what every other woman who is not all that graceful or quiet does: I gossiped, I ranted negatively, and I even held a grudge. That sounds so girly and I hate it. It’s not okay with me that those are the tools I employed when a relationship got stressful, or someone did something that upset me. Why in the world are women wired this way? What evolutionary benefit does this sort of conflict resolution promote?

I guess if there is no real need to create drama with a specific person, you feel a little better having talked about her with a friend instead, but it is such an unattractive behavior, and one I would love to completely abandon. It is hypocritical of me to tell my kids, “It is not nice to talk about someone who is not in the room, unless what you are saying is beneficial,” and to then proceed with that same behavior in conversations with my husband. He is my gossip soundboard. I truly do not call up one friend to talk about another, but rather my frustrations are frequently vented on my husband’s ear.

I realize that it is normal, human behavior to get caught up in the stories of other people and to then express opinion about their lives, especially if you are involved in the drama, but I want to grow past this rut I have let myself dig. I have passively let rifts occur because in recent years, I have remained silent with my offender when I used to express discontent. In my early twenties I thought nothing of confronting someone who was hurting me and expressing my displeasure by imparting my wisdom on them. It was rather ineffectual and often put an even deeper strain on our relationship. I’ve tried other tactics that have left me emotionally drained, but again have proven somewhat futile. So, I have simply just stopped trying, but the emotions are still there, and the ability to communicate thwarted. The long silences don’t work for me either.

The last thing that I want is to become so indifferent that I avoid the hard conversations altogether. I will have completely resigned when I no longer have the energy to talk with someone about difficult topics. So, where to go from here? Objective “I” statements are my new method. When I feel the urge to vent frustrations about relationships that are in a difficult place, I set out to write as many “I” statements as I need so I can begin to verbalize what needs to be said. Example, “I am so angry because I am not getting my way.” “I am sad because I am feeling misunderstood.” My emotions are valid, and my reactions are my responsibility, so I will no longer keep my emotions to myself, but rather approach those sticky relationship issues from my perspective only. No more assumption, no more silence, no more expectation that people can read my mind. I will just say what I need to say.

(As a side note...I will post flower pictures with each blog that is specifically about how I am trying to grow. A badge to remind me)

Mechanical Misery

2009-07-13T08:17:00.000-07:00

Last summer it was my phone, this year my car, but there are a number of things with which I just dread dealing. (computers and grills included) I want to simply pass off the job to my already overworked and exhausted husband and then I proceed to get mad that it doesn’t get done yesterday. I’m not sure what frustrates me more: the undependability of manmade things, or the fact that my husband can’t drop everything to tend to my needs. It’s not fair…it’s not reasonable, but it is how I feel.

I just want to be taken care of sometimes. I am not a high maintenance woman, by any means, but there are days that I feel like just curling up in a ball and letting things magically happen around me without even having to bat an eye in that direction. I rail against the reality that it is never going to happen, especially this time of year. I throw my little tantrum, shed a few tears of frustration and then get back to the daily grind as quickly as I can. It’s not his fault, but really, I have NEVER seen a computer, a phone, or a car acknowledge its weaknesses and apologize for making my life miserable. My husband can, right?! Sure, he can, but should he? It’s not his fault that those mechanical things fail on me right when he is overcommitted, but yelling at the things has proven futile time and time again…and I never feel any better.

The things will get fixed, time will pass, and I’ll get my husband back, but in the meantime, I need to find another sounding board that is less emotional. Thus, I turn to the internet… boy, am I a glutton for punishment!

Singled Out

2009-07-12T09:43:00.000-07:00

Three weekends left…after this one. Three more chunks of time when I need to muster up energy, schedule efficiently or pay the price because the kids are bored. I will have one break in there when my mom has the kids while I head up to the mountains, but generally I am on call 24 hours a day, just like I have been since April. I have stolen some evenings to myself, as my husband has been with the kids or a babysitter that I’ve hired has come over, but this time of year is my stint with single motherhood. I am awe-inspired by the women who do this more regularly and even more impressed by those women who manage to do it with the added responsibility of working while mothering. I acknowledge that I am not really a single mother because I do not have to work to make the money that I spend on food and activities for the four of us, but I think I get a fairly good idea of what it is to be the only adult around.

Yesterday, after my oldest was so badly disappointed that one of my plans fell through, he yelled, “Well, if you just had a back-up plan.” I bristled, and yelled back (yes I am an ashamed yeller…when provoked) “I am tired of coming up with ALL the plans day in and day out. I do it ALL the time.”

And I am tired now, but I am not as exhausted as I was when the kids were much smaller. The absolute hardest time in my house was when I had a two-year-old and a 7-month-old, and our schedule was the same. Things have gotten easier each time one of my kids has turned three, and now that all of them are over three it is often just really fun.

We can do more things, and I can have real conversations with the little bodies that crowd together in the back of my car, but there are some days that are harder than others. The weekends are the hardest. Single parenting when the weekend comes around reminds me, and reminds the kids, that their dad is not with us. I can see curious eyes when we go to church and I am there, alone, with the kids. I try to often play with my wedding ring, in place of being able to wear a disclaiming bumper sticker: “Yes, I am alone, but I am happily married…he’s just working right now.” Very often there are families who do the things that we do, and it is hard not to miss the full-family dynamic.

As a group, the kids and I decided that this summer we were not going to join any teams or sign up for any camps. As a full-time scheduler, I can see the appeal in getting my kids signed up for a ton of things. If I am handed a practice and game schedule, it is easier to work with smaller windows of time, and this summer has been an experiment in how to handle all the scheduling myself. It is more relaxed as far as running from place to place, but there has been a lot more pressure put on me to incorporate enough activities to create distraction.

My mom was a legitimate single mom, a role I appreciate increasingly, and I understand a little better why my siblings and I were regularly scheduled. We all thrived with externally imposed scheduling, and I have no doubt it helped the weekends pass faster. Families go camping, families take bike rides, families head to the mountains for the weekend, and as a single mom it is harder to do these things. Although it might be just as fun, it is also a different experience when there is only one adult in tow.

I’ll impose myself on my friends’ family time, when they include me in their weekend activities, but I am cognizant of the fact that it is always less awkward when I am not the third wheel, and every family deserves time to themselves. Seeking out those friends of mine who are single parenting, either permanently or temporarily, has helped with not just distraction but with adding the support that I know I need.

I am glad that the festival season is almost over, but I am glad that I have this time of perspective with our kids. We grow through this single-mothering season together, and as painful as it is sometimes, it makes each of us stronger and appreciative of the time we get as a family the rest of the year.

I Will Age, But I Refuse to Grow Old

2009-07-09T21:25:00.000-07:00

It took me a while to get down the stairs today, navigating gingerly with every step. I paused at the bottom and my husband reminded me that I should probably move from high-impact activities to more joint-friendly sports. I hate that he’s right, and I hate more that I am coming to the sad reality that I have used and abused my body. I don’t regret the wear and tear that I’ve put on it, and I regret even less the life I have been afforded by being active, but I have to come to terms with what is happening to my body, my face, and my life as time goes by. A common expression in our house is, “Man, I’m getting old,” and I don’t want to say that any more. I am not starting a quest to turn back the clock, but rather, I choose to take a new approach to the inevitable. Yes, age is happening, but “old” is a choice and my choice is to never grow there. Just like good wine or tasty cheese it's aged, but old wine or old cheese sounds like a dangerous decision.

I’ve been out of high school 15 years and some of my friends have been in my life for over 20. That sounds ridiculous to me, when I say it out loud, because I feel like I did in college. Minus the body that insists on betraying me and the fact that life has happened enough to me that I’ve been married for over a decade and my kids are practically pre-teens, I don’t feel like I’ve changed. Logically I know better, but I think this must be the initial stages of mid-life contemplation because I feel compelled to prove to people that I am really not getting older. I want to ignore the fact that workers at fast food windows continually call me ma’am, and that I haven’t been carded in over 6 months. Every fiber of my being wants to rail against that, but with deeper consideration, I accept the fact that I do not have the time or the energy. So how can I better accept that pesky second hand?

It is impossible to talk about aging without talking about the abstract existence of time. It is overwhelming to really wrap my mind around it, so concrete metaphors are my only way to conceptualize. One of my graduate school professors explained the time continuum like a stack of papers that goes from floor to ceiling, and that the very top page represents the amount of time that humans have been in existence. WHAT?!? That is mind blowing, but with what scientists have been able to piece together about how long things have been around, including the rocky mountains that draw me to them every summer, it is probably a fairly accurate example. Nothing that we wonder about happens in an instant, and our lives need to be savored in much the same way.

Every time I drive south on I-25 toward Colorado Springs I am struck by the scar that marks one of the foreground foothills. If you are familiar with Colorado at all, it is a mark of miners that tore away part of the mountain in search of gold, and what remains is a manmade imprint on a timeless treasure. On that large stack of papers, that mark on the mountain was likely less than a punctuation mark on that top page, yet it has become a part of the landscape and a great story for curious kids who occupy my backseat.

Why do I value the scars that mark my body any less? They are the scars that tell the moments of my life and how I lived when that mark was made. I can take my finger and trace on the smiley face and squiggly scar that crowd my knee. I can feel the double scar on my abdomen that represents the entrance of two of my kids. My body is a map of where I’ve been, and how I’ve lived. My sagging chest is the remnants of the life I could offer my kids when they were newborns. Those crowfeet that insist on pinching in my eyes are from smiling and laughing with friends and family. My left ring finger that locks on me regularly reminds me that I miscued too many basketballs, but then I look at the ring that lies just under that stubborn knuckle, and I’m taken to even more stories and moments.

So, life will continue to wreak havoc on my body, and I have a choice about whether I will celebrate the changes and force myself to enjoy the aging process, or whether I will fight against it and invest my time (and money) in erasing the life that has happened to my body so far, bitterly complaining that I am getting old. Now don’t get me wrong, I will continue to work toward the most healthful body and mind I can, and that does take energy and time, but most of all it takes acceptance that what I have been given, and what is yet to come, is a beautiful gift worth celebrating.

He hath made everything beautiful in his time. Eccles 3:11

Aspiring to be a Man in the Mirror

2009-07-07T22:42:00.000-07:00

There is not much left to say that hasn’t yet been said, and to be honest, I am not completely committed to adding something new to the conversation. I am not overly emotional about the passing of Michael Jackson, but I am intrigued by the social phenomenon that surrounds his death. It is newsworthy, and superficially interesting, but there must be something to this hoopla that I have missed along the way. I know most of Michael Jackson’s lyrics, and many of my childhood memories could easily be accompanied by an MJ song, but even so, I would hardly consider going to a memorial site to write my name on a monstrous banner. Or stand in line to get tickets to attend the memorial, and I would most definitely never be caught with flowers and stuffed animals so that I could place them on a memorial site. I do, however, find myself turning my head toward the television to watch his tearful daughter say her goodbyes, and I cannot help but to well up when the people who really knew him are choked up while honoring his life. I even felt compelled today to introduce my 9-year-old to the “Thriller” music video that scared the pants off me when it was first released. He really was a remarkable man, and in so many ways I hope I can affect even a fraction of the change on the world that he managed along the way.

My moonwalk is unsteady and I cannot hold a note above high C, but there are some themes to Michael Jackson’s life that resonate with me, and thankfully resonated with millions of others. The body of work that he leaves behind will undoubtedly completely overshadow the bizarre nature of his public life in recent years, and for that, music lovers can be grateful. He changed the landscape of popular music and the lives of every musician to follow him will most likely have been influenced by his talent. Something is moved within me when I hear a song from the 80’s that recalls an emotion, a memory or an indescribable feeling that can only be reached through song.

I may never write award-winning songs or move an audience to screaming with my hip gyration, but maybe, just maybe, what and who I leave behind will be just as moved by my legacy. Isn’t that why people are drawn to memorial services like MJ’s? Don’t we wish that our lives counted for as much as his did, along with the fact that he moved and changed us while he was here? Maybe those who fought for tickets today want to be able to say that with their lives they really lived by attending the memorial of the greatest artist to walk the earth. For me, that is not enough of a legacy to leave behind, and I want to keep working toward that greater change.

I will take a page out of Michael Jackson’s book and start that change with the man in my own mirror. I hope to reflect in that magic glass a daily influence and a legacy that might amount to something.

If You Wanna Make The World A Better Place, Take A Look At Yourself, And Then Make A Change
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pbzMsIcp6fI

To be honest, I will be thrilled if my kids are not the ones offering the tearful memorial, but rather my great grandkids, and because I have made an imprint on their lives too. Thanks Michael for all that you’ve left behind, and thank you for coming in a time where you can be visited regularly, on youtube.

To FB or not to FB...That is the Question

2009-07-05T23:07:00.000-07:00

I have had a facebook account for over three years, but in the last three weeks, I actually started to invite friends there and post information. I have fully committed myself to proposing my book to publishers, and it is apparent that I need an online following before any publisher will even give my proposal a sniff. I went to twitter first, in May, curious about the mysterious activity promoted on every news station as an invitation to “follow us on twitter.” It was out of pure curiosity that I followed and received followers in the strange land called “twitter”. It has its own language and cultural expectations, and I am most definitely still a foreigner there. It became a fun distraction during the weeks that my husband was working in Colorado while my kids were back in Minnesota with me. I didn’t have anyone to talk to at night, except for the short phone calls, and nothing makes time completely disappear like navigating online, and most especially tooling around on twitter. So I want followers, and I am intrigued by all those other people who want them too…is it really a bad thing?

I am not the only one who is fascinated by this social phenomenon. It seems only natural that people are flocking to these bright light websites like moths to flame. Everyone wants to be followed. They want to know that they matter to someone, that there is a person in the world who wonders what they are doing or who they have become. It is a different addiction to seek out names from the past and connect with people than other more destructive addictions, but I see potential for disaster there too. Stay-at-home moms are seeking treatment for their computer addictions, and I have found myself shuttling my kids off to an inane activity so I can blog, or tweet or FB (all verbs that were not in existence 10 years ago). My husband and I can be found most nights these days plugged into our own outlets glancing up at the tv behind the laptop screens, occasionally commenting on the story that flits across the screen. Maybe if he were on facebook or twitter, he and I could actually connect again, but he is working and I am sidling up to my distraction. He is living in his own cyber world and I in mine.

I have found that very few people I know, in the “real” world, have visited or choose to visit twitter regularly, and some still do not have facebook accounts. Several people I respect highly have no deep-seeded need to be followed or friended, and I cannot find those intriguing people on either facebook or twitter, so they must know something that I do not know. What is wrong with me? I tried for a really long time not to get sucked in, but it seems to be the new community, the new connection, and if you are not tweeting or FBing then you are not connected in today’s day and age.

I want to be able to pull the plug and connect better with the people immediately around me, but I think that is precisely why I am finally sucked into the cyber-community. Our family has not stayed in one place long enough to have established the connections that every person needs and deserves. I have friends from all the places we’ve been and the life we have lived, but it is not in one physical place. The nature of our lives is not conducive to unplugging the connection that really can only happen for me online. The one place that a large majority of my friends and family can actually be found is that silly screen that stares back at me into the wee hours of the morning. I would miss out on a lot of life that is happening and being recorded on those sites. If I unplug, it is the end of a fledgling writing career, and then how can I telecommute for my actual paying job?

This is my new distraction. The reason I can feel connected to something when the someone I hope to be connected to is plugged in somewhere else. Is there really anything wrong with that? We all want to feel connected and isn’t it okay to be connected to family and friends who are actually interested in how things are going? It is not that my husband is not interested. He and I have both been consistently committed to doing what we need to do to stay connected, but this time of year, it is hard for him, and actually unfair of me to expect from him, to be all the connection that I need. I need the witty comments of my crazy friends, and the satisfaction of curiosity about what others are doing. I need a nudge of hello and a cyber-smile when I have screaming kids in the background.

I vow to stay connected. I want to plug in to what people are doing and saying, but I vow too, that I will not do it at the expense of the living breathing people here in this house. I want to be able to say how amazing our day was and how witty and fun and entertaining our kids were. I want to close up the laptop and flick off the television and laugh late into the night with the man who has always been and who will remain my best friend. He may not be on facebook or on twitter, but I know he is following me, and I him. I’m lucky I don’t need the email updates to remind me of that.

The Family Grounding…

2009-07-02T14:06:00.000-07:00

A Fresh Look at a Popular Form of Discipline

I was grounded today. We all were, in fact. I blame my nine-year-old, and he blames me, but we had crossed the point of no return, and the only thing that could happen was a grounding for us all. Because I cannot ground a 9-year-old and leave him on his own all day, the entire tribe was forced inside, and activities were limited for the oldest. The term “grounding” is such an interesting one when it is used in reference to the loss of privilege and the isolation from friends and fun. It is only one of literally a dozen definitions of “ground” and “grounding” and it is not even the formal verb definition. “To ground”, as a verb, is most commonly used in reference to keeping a plane from flying, and in the informal use it refers to keeping a person from a place as a punishment. When you are dealing with an active 9-year-old boy, the formal and informal definitions both apply.

The place we couldn’t go today was the house of good friends who we have not seen in almost a year. There are only a handful of things that my son could have done that would have warranted a grounding from their house, but hitting his sister, to the point of bruising, definitely qualifies. I think he truly thought that our activities for the day were too important to be cancelled, but what he learned is that the mental health and connectedness of my children is too important to ignore.

I endured the proclamation that he hates me and that I am a son-of-a-gun (and unbelievably he actually used the word gun instead of the alternative.) I drove around until he was calmed enough to go back into the condo without evoking a call to police, and then the grounding commenced.

One use of the word “grounding” has to do with charged particles in a circuit of electricity, and when they come across a “grounded” object the potential for those charged particles is diminished. That transformation literally happened behind the closed doors of my son’s temporary room, but I presented myself as the grounding rod. I handed my son a pad of paper with an unfinished sentence on the top: “I hate my life because…” and I told him to write as much as he needed to in order to finish the sentence. He brought the sheet out to me when he was done, and I sat down with him, numbering 8 things that he had listed. We started to go through each concern and we dissected those things that he could effect change upon, and those things that he was not allowed to worry about any more. His face softened, the genuine tears rolled, and we discovered a number of anxieties he had, as of yet, been unable to communicate. I couldn’t fix every concern of his, but I helped to diminish a few of those charged particles.

An online free dictionary that I found did not reference the use of the term “well grounded” but I know that I am not alone in my parenting quest to hope for well grounded kids. I want them to be “down to earth”, and I guess I can make the connection to earth while talking about grounding because “earth” is the most popular definition of the noun ground. The soil that I hope to put under the feet of our growing kids needs to be rich and nourishing, and the only way that I know how to provide that is through positive reinforcement and encouragement. After we spent some time removing some of my son’s charged particles, I handed him another piece of paper with a different unfinished sentence at the top: “I like my life because…” He had to finish that sentence too, but this time he had to come up with ten endings. We were back to better after this exercise was done, and the grounding from friends became an exercise in much more than punishment.

When I was “grounded” as a kid, I would lose toys or an opportunity to go play with friends, and that has not changed. I saw little to no redemption in my grounding, and my son may not see the value yet either. However, now that I am the hand that forces the grounding, my perspective about its use as an effective growing tool has changed dramatically. It is a time to slow down, turn off the electronics, quiet the noise of summer playtime and listen to the boiling frustrations of a growing boy. I take very seriously the fact that when my kids do something grievous enough to get grounded, in this case it was a bruising blow to his sister, that they will indeed be forced to grow through the pain that a grounding seemingly causes. For this…I will always hold my ground.

Parenting the Positive Aspects of Sports

2009-07-01T09:58:00.000-07:00

Youth sports have been the most influential component of my life since I was five years old. I played youth sports, competed as a college athlete, coached competitive youth teams, and I am the parent of three children who play sports throughout the year. My husband and I are college coaches now, and we both spend a lot of time in sporting arenas recruiting from youth teams. I am a self-described sports fanatic and I have watched a shift in youth sports through the course of time. Arguably the most notable change has been parent involvement and influence on the young athlete.

The shift in sports parents has been remarkable, since I first started my involvement in youth sports nearly 30 years ago. Back in the early 80’s it was not uncommon to find a parent on the sidelines of a sport who had never competed, and who was clueless about the rules. There were contentious situations when a competitive parent would yell at a ref because they didn’t understand, but the pressure on the kids playing was not nearly the insanity it is today. When I played, the passion and the drive for the sport most often came from the players competing, but I am seeing an increasing presence of parents who are definitely the driving force behind the involvement of their children.

I have seen children implode because of pressures put on them by their parents, and it is easy to identify that “crazy parent” on practically any sideline. I know better than to try to influence every parent and every athlete that I may encounter, either with my own children, or along the recruiting trail, but I do think that some of the things that my husband and I do will help our kids to be lifelong athletes, and responsible “teammates” when they are done competing.

We are a sporting family. We often have family games in the basement or at a local park, and those games give us a chance to teach, on a microcosmic level, some of the important life lessons that are so invaluable in youth sports. I truly believe that the more a child sees a parent competing and handling success and failure, the more they too will glean some positive attributes.

There are so many wonderful things about youth sports, hence a lifelong involvement. Some of the positive aspects include: learning self-confidence, learning how to win, learning how to lose, learning that life is not always fair, learning how to work with others, learning how to respect authority (coaches and refs), learning to push yourself to achieve personal goals, learning to be a part of something bigger by encouraging teammates and sacrificing yourself for the good of the whole team. We also believe in loyalty, and making an impact where you are, rather than trying to manage or control an experience by moving our kids from team to team or coach to coach.

The most effective way to encourage a child’s acquisition of those positive traits happens in the car and at home both before and after a game or practice. We have regular discussions with our kids about what a good individual goal might be for a practice or a game. Most often the goals include a consistent and intense work ethic. We make a point to then ask each kid how they did with working hard when the practice or game is done. We point out the times we saw them skate hard, or run their fastest after a ball. They light up when they realize that we encourage the small things. We try hard not to focus on the goals scored or the games won, because confidence comes with achieving those more attainable goals, and success often comes from achieving those smaller goals first.

Let the coaches coach…and the refs ref
Despite the high level at which both my husband and I competed, we defer to other parents and volunteer coaches to teach our kids. They can learn something valuable from every type of coach they encounter, and we feel that it is important to let some of those life lessons simply happen without our influence. We talk regularly about how important it is to listen to the direction of a coach and to make an impact on an individual level by being coachable. The same goes for refs. We encourage our kids to respect the refs, even when their calls are wrong, because that is part of the game, and we hope our kids learn to go forward, changing to a more positive mindset of playing in the next moment. To enhance our perspective about the importance of coaches and refs, we tell our kids to thank coaches regularly, after many practices and games, and to shake the hand of a ref after every game.

We really want our kids to be good sports, and as competitive as they all are, we insist that their focus often shift to the successes of their teammates. As a parent, I often pick out a player on the kids’ teams that I will make an effort to encourage during the game, and I will talk at length with our kids about how their teammates had their own individual successes throughout a practice or game. There is nothing quite like the challenge of competing in a team sport, and in order to do it well, there MUST be an emphasis on the successes of the players around our kids.

The best we can do for our kids is to be an example of a calm and encouraging coach when they see us coaching from the sidelines, and to translate that positive encouragement into our parenting. Both my husband and I value the players we coach as individuals, and when our kids see that, it helps them to have an equal amount of respect for their own teammates and coaches. It is hard, and we come across situations regularly where we have to reevaluate our approach, but the effort is so worthwhile.

It is a challenge to influence every aspect of a child’s involvement in youth sports, and that is why it is increasingly important to educate all the parents, coaches and volunteers who keep the youth sports engine running. Sites like ResponsibleSports.com offer invaluable resources to a parent invested in the success of their athlete. The success to which I am referring is simply gaining some of those positive attributes that can be gained by competing, not just getting a scholarship or winning every game. Youth sports are too important to be too singularly focused on that longterm goal of being a professional athlete. Our goal is to raise professional people who have gained many of their strengths competing in youth sports.

How to survive…and even enjoy…a long road trip with kids

2009-06-29T16:53:00.000-07:00

Despite an unexpected exploded tire in the fifteenth hour of our recent 16-hour trip, driving cross-country with three children under the age of nine was actually a fun and memorable day. When I told people that I had planned to drive 900 miles by myself with our three kids, the reactions were mixed. “Are you crazy?” and “Don’t you think you should take someone with you?” My answers were simple, “Most definitely” and “I don’t think I need anyone else in the car.” I could only refuse the help offered because our kids are seasoned car travelers, and both they and I know what to expect for those long hours trapped in a small space.

Since 2000, and the arrival of our oldest, the majority of our travel has happened in the car. We regularly travel long distances when we drive, and each of our road trips has been at least 8 hours long. As unique as each trip has been, there have been some activities that have consistently helped the drive go more smoothly, and during our over 30 road trips, we have found a number of things that work for us.

CAR BAGS
Each year we have accumulated new items for the individualized car bags for each kid. They are bags that sit in our closet waiting for the next road trip, and we go through them before each trip to make sure that the activities that are in them are still appropriate. The car bags are unique to the interests of each kid, and we replenish and sharpen pencils, replace dead batteries and add at least one new item for the trip. This most recent trip the 9 yr-old boy bag included: Harry Potter book, a pad of blank paper, pens, crosswords, Sudoku, cd player (he has had a handheld game in the past, but not this last time). The 6-yr-old girl bag included: paper and pens, coloring books, math pages, flashcards, cd player, Junie B. Jones book, and sticker puzzles: http://www.kimmyshop.com/ProductInfo.aspx?productid=3003235. And the 3-yr-old girl bag included: crayons, paper, doll with Velcro clothes, and a Leap pad with books and cartridges http://travelwithkids.about.com/od/familytravelgear/tp/leapster.htm.

I, too, have a car bag that sits within arm’s length so that I can reach it when there is a lull in the peace. I saved scholastic books through the school year, and I had two books for each kid. There were three packs of gum, a Hannah Montana cd, two new movies, a disposable camera for my oldest, and extra princess sticker books for the girls. I have done the timed release of “surprise bag” gifts, and I’ve also only brought out a surprise when I can tell that the kids need something to spice up the ride. Both methods work well, and they look forward to my reach into that bag.

THERE MUST BE MOVIES…
It is not possible, these days, to imagine a long day in the car without the presence of a DVD player. I personally don’t subscribe to the “DVD player for each rider” scenario, but we do have one dvd player for the car. It is attached to an effective pair of speakers so they can listen together. It might be a bit old-fashioned, but I don’t want our road trips to become these individualized experiences that happen behind the head phones donned by each kid. One DVD player bonds them, forces cooperation and because I have a personal preference for the family time that happens in the car, for the movies, it is an experience better shared. As soon as we pulled out of the drive, I told the kids what times the movies would be showing. I have them spaced at intervals that leave 2-3 hours between showings. They look forward to the set time, and they can be occupied during the wait with the other activities we have in the car. This most recent trip I employed a payment method so that each kid could “buy” his/her ticket to the movie. Every person was expected to “pay” a compliment to every other person in the car in order for the movie to start. My three-year old liked the shirts of her siblings, but young kids get a discount at a regular theatre too.

SCHEDULED SLEEP TIME
There have been a number of road trips where my kids just doze off as we’re driving and I can kick out several hours without the distraction of energized kids. Lately, it works best for our kids when they know what time they are going to be expected to close their eyes for a while. It curbs the fights about whether someone gets to stay up while the others are sleeping.

KEEPING THE PEACE
Pick a popsicle stick…Often, the fights my kids feel compelled to win, are the fights about injustice. They fight over who chooses what game, or what movie, or what music to listen to, and the discussions can be the most contentious arguments in our car. Prior to our departure (brave parents can do this on the road) each kid picked out a popsicle flavor that was a unique color, and the stick that remained became the “choosing stick” for that kid. The sticks are in a brown paper bag, and I draw a stick when the kids cannot make decisions on their own. The sticks work well for other occasions, outside the car too.

Singing only… To curb the arguing, encourage the kids to sing everything that they have to say to each other. If you have to sing, it is hard to whine or sound angry, and it can often lead to uncontrollable fits of laughter.

5- minute exercise at rest stop: jumping jacks, short sprints, leg wiggles

ENGAGING ACTIVITIES
Audio books: We listened to Peter Pan on a recent road trip, and the oldest was totally into it, but the younger kids used the listening time to do some things on their own. There are so many wonderful audio books that are appropriate for the entire family, and it kills a lot of time.

Car games: There are a number of games, and travel websites with ideas of how to pass the time with some bonding activities.

Next word begins with…last letter of word given i.e. Kid one says, “banana” kid two has to come up with a word that starts with “a” Advanced version for older kids: geographic locations example “Indiana” and the second person says, “Atlanta”

20 questions…either with or without the question ball.

Car bingo: You can create the items to find depending on what you might pass while on the road: cow, semi-truck, telephone pole, stop sign, the letter “a”, bird, silo, bridge, police car, tow truck, train, and you can make it specific for the places that you know you’ll pass

There are prefab magnetic games you can buy: http://www.familytravelgear.com/page/FTG/PROD/SMPT-game-0561-car-road-bingo

Dance breaks: When a good song comes on suggest a 5 minute dance party where everyone has to dance in their seat. As the kids get older they have started to know exactly which songs to which they would like to dance.

GIVE UP ON EXPECTATIONS: As well-planned and organized you think your road trip may be, allow yourself permission to let go when expectations are disappointed. The one thing that can be completely predictable is the fact that there will be surprises along the way. Every trip is different, and the unexpected is what makes a road trip memorable. Don’t get too caught up in being rigid with your kids and enjoy the journey!

Pruning my project

2009-06-24T13:12:00.000-07:00

Warning to gardeners: What you are about to read may be difficult. What has happened in our yard may very well be disturbing and appalling to you. For any offense you suffer, I am incredibly sorry.

We have lived in our house here in Minnesota for two full years, and I just recently looked around to take stock of the plants that grow in our yard. I have noticed their presence, but my yardwork over the last two years (or should I say war waged) has been with the dandelions that seem to think they are the rightful owners of this property. At any rate, we are starting to get the yard under control, and in a recent dry spell I had time and energy to look more intently at the plants.

Just outside our front door are five large and generally overgrown Bridal White Spirea. Last year my husband took a buzz saw, okay, so it wasn’t a buzz saw, but rather a trimmer. His approach to these plants, however, was much closer to that of a hack than a meticulous gardener. The plants were overgrown last year too, so he trimmed them down to get the scraggly limbs under control. I can sense the gardeners bristling because I am fairly certain that my lingo gives me away. I truly have no idea what I am doing. I don’t remember what time of year my husband hacked, or if it was a good time for the plant. I don’t think he did it when they were blooming, but I am certain we put those bushes under a lot of stress because of our lack of knowledge.

So this year, the plants started to get over grown again, but I noticed that several of the branches were completely void of leaves and flowers. A large portion of the plant was essentially sitting in the middle of the bush… dead. The flourishing branches had become intertwined with the dead ones, and it was hard to distinguish between the two at times.

So, I got on this pruning kick. I wanted to get some of the dead branches removed so that the plants looked better. As I started to tear away those branches that were dead, I realized that nearly two-thirds of the bush was lying on my sidewalk while the scraggly third that remained looked thinned out and sad. It looked better without the dead portion taking up space, but I worried for the little bit that was left.

Within a day, the branches that remained were full of flowers and blooming beautifully. I could tell the plant was breathing a sigh of relief to have all of that dead weight removed from the innermost parts.

The pruning had to happen, and I think I may be able to save the plants after all, but in the pruning process I discovered another metaphor by which I can identify a stage in my life.

Nearly 6 years ago, I started a book project about marriage that literally changed my life. I set out on a journey to discover answers to questions that I had about my own marriage. It was a critical point in my life as a mother of two small children in the midst of moving from house to house. It was a hard time, and the research project provided me an intellectual and emotional outlet that felt phenomenal.

That was the growth of a big, healthy plant. Life continued, I concluded the research, I occasionally dabbled in the writing, but I was unable to fully complete this project that I had started. Part of the reason, I justified, was because we had a third child, we moved two more times, and I started to work, full time and then part-time. Parts of the plant died away because they were no longer necessary to complete the project. I had not recognized the distraction that my book provided, and it was a constructive form of addiction…for a while. As I started to actually get the answers I had sought about prioritizing in my marriage, working through some of my own personal issues, and soaking up the all-too precious time with our kids, I didn’t need the project any more.

I don’t really need it now either, but I see the strong branches that remain from that original bush. I have seen what truths and beauty they retained while fighting through the dead and dying parts of the plant, and I am motivated to share. I have been helped so much by this project, I feel it would be a travesty to let the plant simply get choked out. Someone needs to prune, take out the dead branches and give this plant a chance to grow again.

I don’t doubt that the next phase of sharing and soliciting publishers will be a stressful time, but I intend to pay attention now. I will meticulously shape instead of hack and I will take care to guard this precious gift that I was given by all those women who volunteered to share their lives and their experiences in marriage. It is my thank you to them to pay it forward…and finish writing it down.

Hosting