We Weather It Together

Marriage is much like the weather. Most of the time, temperatures are comfortable with sunny skies and warm breezes. Occasionally there are storms, like the short refreshing ones that come and go quickly on a summer’s evening. While sometimes unpleasant, they harmlessly water the plants and clear the air from the heat of the day. Other times, the storms build up ominously over time and when you see the dark clouds and hear the warning rumbling, you know you need to secure the windows and test the flashlights. Even the best of relationships have to weather such ugliness – mine is no exception.

With the way that I censor myself here, it would be easy for you to think of my husband as a perfect, coffee-bearing gentleman who supports me unfailingly. And that is almost always true – except for when it’s not. He is my biggest fan but also my harshest critic. His words can make or break my self-esteem most easily. And let’s be honest here, sometimes men do not do criticism in the most constructive fashion. Last weekend, conditions were most favorable for sever weather.

The signs had been there all week, with a flippant comment here and some passive aggression there… storms clouds were looming all around our house. Despite the distant grumble of thunder and other warnings, I was still taken aback by the harsh wind and icy hail. Luke’s advancing cold front met with my area of low pressure and an atypical storm ensued. Luke let loose all his frustrations in a tornado of accusations aimed directly at me. At first, I tried to find reason in what he was saying, and then I realized there was no space in his rant for rationality. I put up my hand and walked away from the argument, post-poning the resolution and violating one of our fundamental “Fighting Rules.”*

That evening, when the storm clouds had cleared and we had given each other some space, everything still felt a little off. Feeling exactly like the air right after a storm, electrified from all the lightning and the light still a little green from the cloud cover, things were calmer but not finished. Nothing felt resolved and I felt betrayed. His criticisms tore at all my own insecurities of not being good enough, of not doing enough, not being enough. That night, I went to bed still angry (another “Fighting Rules” violation), still trying to make sense of the source of the fight. It’s taken just about the whole week to survey the damage.

Monday, I woke up resolved to be more of the wife and mother that Luke expects and deserves. More importantly, I resolved to be more of the wife and mother that I want to be. That night, he restated his complaints and conceded that his delivery of the information was wrong. I agreed that he had been an ass. On Tuesday, he apologized. He feels the way he feels but he was sorry for being a jerk about it. I let him know that I heard what he was saying. I didn’t disagree with his argument but I’d prefer he speak to me in a more respectful manner to voice it next time. And each day since has brought us a bit more to a place of understanding again.

I won’t go into any more detail of what we actually argued about as the content is so deeply tied into other posts that I want to share. But I will say that I am not perfect, nor do I pretend to be. If anything, I am most uneasy with my skills as a parent and my ego is a fragile thing. But Luke likes to think me perfect and finds it shocking when I am not. When he leaves for work in the morning, he wants to be secure in the idea that I have it ALL under control – the kids, the house, the finances… But this parenting/household CEO/maid/woman-trying-to-reenter-the-work-force gig is a juggling act that I am not handling with all the grace and style that I would like. I easily get over-whelmed. I often muddle through rather than leap forward. I often let our chaos run amuck rather than reining any true control over it. But I’m working on it.

And as for Luke, since he really is perfect 98 percent of the time, I can forgive the stormy 2 percent once in awhile. Besides, he did bring me coffee this morning and that is all the perfection I need.



*Susie and Luke’s Fair Fighting Rules were developed from our first argument as a married couple almost 15 years ago. I can’t remember what we even fought about but we did learn from our mistakes and outlined the following rules for future conflicts:
Never walk out on an argument, Never go to bed angry (you can’t sleep well), Never plead your case to your mother (she will only take his side anyway), and Never end an argument with the words “Fuck You.”

A Note from the Ledge...

I don't have time for a proper post, although I have many drafted in my head. The kids were on their three week Spring break, my parents came to visit and I hosted 15 relatives here the Saturday before Easter. This is extraordinary since I live about 850 miles from any of my family. So needless to say, I have been busy cooking, washing dishes, doing laundry and fielding disapproving looks and snide remarks. I have just enough time to change the sheets on the bed before I go to pick up my dear friend at the airport. She keeps coming to visit despite my terrible hosting skills. That is unconditional love, baby. Soon, I will be back to my regular routine of cooking, washing dishes, doing laundry and making disapproving looks and snide remarks. Until then, let me leave you with this:
Enjoy!

Love Makes Coffee

Seventeen years ago today, I thought I had a plan. Finish the papers, take the exams, graduate, find a job, plan a wedding… It was the last half of my last semester in college and I was trying hard to focus. The workload was overwhelming and I used it as an excuse, as a protective cover to hide behind rather than face my doubts and fears about the future.

When my long-distance boyfriend (let’s refer to him as Christopher) would call, I would whine, “I can’t talk right now, I have two papers due tomorrow.” But he’d want to know what I was doing and with whom. I was feeling suffocated by his constant need for reassurance. It turns out, he had good reason to be worried.

Seventeen years ago today, I liked the idea of having a plan. The plan was sensible. The plan meant security. If I could just focus and stick to the plan… But I was distracted by some nagging emotions. Christopher was having a career crisis of his own so he was coping with his own doubts. When we talked about them, he would describe his dreams and goals. In one pivotal conversation, I pointed out to him that when he spoke of his future, he neglected to mention where our prospective children and me might fit in. He was stunned by his own omission and admitted that he wasn’t sure he wanted to have children. The plan was cracking.

And then there was Luke. Luke lived downstairs and visited my room often to see my roommate. A few weeks prior, they had gone out on a date leaving me inexplicably jealous. I was confused by this emotion. I had no right to be interested in Luke since he obviously liked my roommate and especially since I had Christopher. So I tried to ignore those twinges. I tried not to notice how the party was more fun when Luke was there, the card game was more interesting when he was playing, that dinner tasted better when he sat at my table. Instead, I always had a project to research and a paper to write.

Seventeen years ago today, I wished out loud that I could spend St. Patrick’s Day properly, in a pub or café with a mug of Irish coffee. But there was no pub and no time.

Seventeen years ago today, Luke knocked on the door and asked me what he needed to make Irish coffee. With the typewriter in one hand and Christopher on the phone in the other, I shut the door with my foot and grumped that at least someone would be enjoying the night. A couple of hours later, Luke knocked on the door again - this time with a coffee maker and a bottle of Jameson Whiskey. Other friends joined us after we had already consumed a few mugs. I finished my paper with shaky fingers as a party built around me. Time sort of suspended after that. It’s needless to say that I was up all night, what with all the coffee and a steady stream of visitors. We played card games, had intense conversations, drank and I read James Joyce out loud. Aided and abetted by caffeine and alcohol, I allowed my heart to take the lead.

Seventeen years ago today, I wasn’t looking for love. That was not the part of the plan. But love doesn’t make plans - love makes coffee. And he’s been making me coffee ever since.

May all your St. Patrick’s Days be as lucky as mine and Luke’s have been.


*photo credit to Flickr.com

Lunch With The Ex?

In the latest episode of How I Met Your Mother, the crew was discussing what happens when you have lunch with your ex. Barney, as he is the authority on the subject of dating, states there are only four reasons to meet an ex-boyfriend/girlfriend for lunch: 1. He/She wants to get back together, 2: He/she wants to kill you, 3: He/she wants to return your stuff, and 4: He/She wants to rub your face in the fact that they are better off without you. Being that Barney has not had a relationship that has lasted more than a few hours, it’s understandable why he wouldn’t consider a fifth reason to have lunch. May I propose Lunch Date Reason #5: He/she wants to simply catch up?

When you are in a serious relationship, that person is the first person you think of in the morning and the one you call first when you want to share good or bad news. You know their friends, their family, their coworkers and their pets. And when you break up, you can’t help but miss the friendship part of the relationship. There is no “But we can still be friends…” not that I know of, anyway. Even when a break-up is for the best, there are pieces of that other person that you will miss. It’s a simple fact.

My first real boyfriend and I dated for three years. We were a part of each other’s families calling each other’s parents “Mom” and “Dad.” Together we attended many weddings (seven in one summer), family dinners, vacations and school reunions. We made dreams and plans. We chose the names of our future children and where we would live when we retired. Our lives were intertwined. Opting to end the relationship meant having to let go of all of that and while I knew it was the right decision, it was a huge loss just the same.

I don’t often ponder what might have been if we had stayed together. I just know what wouldn’t have been – life as I know it now with all my boys and their joyful chaos. I chose to go with the unknown over the already decided. I chose passion over familiarity. I followed my heart and am so glad I did. I have no regrets but I do think of him – the same way I wonder about What If Marty and those other friends that I haven’t found on FaceBook.

But if I did find myself in New York and invited my ex out to lunch, #5 would be my reason. I’d want to hear about his work, his wife and child. I’d ask about his parents, his nieces and nephews who are all adults by now, his friends that used to be my friends. I’d get caught up on all that I’ve missed these last seventeen years. And in the process, I’ll be reassured that he is doing well and that breaking up was truly best for both of us, not just me. Perhaps that is the 6th reason to have lunch, but this I knew already.

Now it’s your turn. Pretend you have set up a date with your Ex. Which reason would it be? What would you and your ex talk about over lunch?

Taking Back The Girl, Revisited

Ordinarily, being trapped at a Starbucks with only my laptop in tow would be a dream come true. I’m living my own fantasy right at this moment. But in true Susie fashion, not even this is enough. I am antsy – worried about all those other things I should be accomplishing. I brought work with me but I am missing the papers I actually need. There is no free Wi-Fi (Starbuck’s, WTF?) so I can’t do the research I thought I might do and I don’t actually have enough time to drive home and regroup.

Added to my over-caffeinated nervousness, is the fact that I left one very despondent toddler at preschool. He’s been having really hard goodbyes lately, so much so that my husband can’t bear to be the one to drop him off. So at the last minute, I stuffed my laptop in a bag, my hair in a ponytail holder and Logan in his car seat and here I am - sitting here, oozing with mommy guilt and coffee fumes.

I know not to take the crying child too personally. He’s having separation anxiety, a phase that will probably pass and even if doesn’t, can’t really be helped. Scooping him up and bringing him home would only have made the situation worse next time. He has hopefully pulled himself together shortly after I have left. As a seasoned professional, I know this. As a parent in desperate need for a moment alone, I can’t help but feel awful. Leaving him feels selfish and indulgent.

What’s a mommy blogger to do? Well blog, of course! Which brings me to my next thought. Did you know that last week was my blogiversary? Me neither. Looking over the last year of posts, there are so many thoughts that I would have liked to share, or started to share and not finished. Some posts I have started but was not able to give them the time I needed to make them complete and convey what I wanted. Some deal with difficult subjects and some just seemed like old news because some other fabulous blogger scooped me. So I had been pondering my anniversary post but went and folded some laundry instead. It seems that blogging has gone the same way as getting my hair cut and my closet organized – pushed to the list of Things I’d Really Like/Need To Do But Can’t Because I Don’t Have Time. I suppose the more appropriate term would be “Don’t Make Time” because time for myself is never a priority. This is not good, I know. Really, I’m working on it. Remember this post? Well who will join me in recommitting to making a little time for ourselves as people? Going to the grocery store does not count. Nor does picking up dry cleaning or taking the dog to the vet.

What are you going to do for yourself today or this week? Tell us in the comments or post on your blog. Let us know how you will Take Back the Girl. And me? I think I’ll take a breath, relax and enjoy my childfree Starbucks moment (even without the Wi-Fi).

Did I mention that the Dishwasher is Broken?

One of the ways that I uphold my fragile sense of organization is by keeping lists. I have lists for things I need to do (pick up dry cleaning), need to buy (dog food), want to buy (area rug for family room), need to do soon (get tax stuff together), need to look into for the future (summer camp for kids), and the list of lists goes on…

I have no problem making lists. The problem I have is in getting anything from those lists accomplished. You see sometimes, a single item on the To Do list requires a complicated series of other To Do’s - which can make completing a simple task exhausting. Take, for example, item #4 from my current To Do list: “Get prescription filled.” Sounds simple, right? In actuality, getting the prescription filled requires calling the doctor’s office to ask them to write the prescription, wait appropriate time for request to be filled, drive to the doctor’s office to pick up prescription, sign forms saying that I am picking up the script, take script to pharmacy, return to pick up prescription after appropriate waiting time, find out that the pharmacy was actually out of that medication, then make faces at pharmacy staff person when I am asked if I would like to take my prescription to the pharmacy across town to see if they can fill it there and then FINALLY pick up the prescription. And so, “get prescription filled” takes three days.

So, it was no surprise to me today that I wasted a LOT of time trying to tackle item #1: “Make Insurance Claim.” When I was rear-ended two weeks ago resulting in some scratches to my bumper, I naively thought that I would simply just call my insurance agent and give him the information and he would make it all better. I was also naïve to believe that the guy who hit me had given me the correct information I needed to file the claim. You know where this is going, right? After three phone calls with my insurance agent, four different conversations with the guy’s “alleged” insurance company, two conversations with a police officer (not to mention the three calls it took to get to the officer I needed), one Google search, one Whitepages.com search and one “What the hell, let’s try Facebook” search, it has been determined that the man who hit my car does not actually exist. Neither does his car. Nor does his insurance policy. In fact, the only proof I have that incident even occurred are the scratches to my rear fender and to my pride. It has taken many steps and about two hours to learn the hard lesson of ALWAYS get a police report. And I still can’t cross out #1 from my To Do list. Sigh…

The other way that I uphold my fragile sense of organization is to not let my dishes pile up. It’s a simple thing, really. Each day, if I am only going to accomplish one household chore, I at least reboot the dishwasher. The clean dishes get put away, the dirty ones go into the machine - you know how it works. The empty sink and clear counters give the illusion of a clean kitchen, even for just a few moments out of the day. You know where this is going, right? Last night, I loaded the dishes, filled the soap dispenser, and turned the dial. After a few moments, there was a loud, awful grinding sound - the sound of money about to be spent on fixing or replacing a major appliance.

So, as I sit here in my kitchen full of dirty dishes considering taking another mental vacation, I will instead move “Call Repair Guy” to the #1 spot on my To Do List. I better rest up for that one.

Theme Thursday - Cold

It's been quite some time since I participated in Stacy's Theme Thursday but I was determined today to find something in my archives to share. It was easy with COLD as the theme since we are feeling chilly even here in North Carolina. While I know many of my northern comrades are tired of the cold and the snow that comes with it, we reveled in it for the brief moment we had it.

Logan's first snow experience.



Jess tries to catch the elusive flake.



Morning frost etching the window.



Happy Winter Everyone!