15 years

Today is The Man and I's anniversary.  We have officially been married forever (well, 15 years which basically feels like forever when you get married young ).  When people, especially younger people, find out how long we've been married they will occasionally comment with something to the effect of:

You must be soulmates.

To be honest I think the whole 'soulmates' thing is horse shit.  7 billion people in the world and I'm supposed to think I stumbled on the one guy who I could stand to live with and still love for this many years?  Nope.  We have just managed to figure out how make things work, even when things aren't at their best.  I could sum up how to have a successful marriage in one sentence:

Don't be a shit head.

But somehow I think I could be accused of over simplifying some things.  In an attempt to avoid that I've decided to come up with my very own top 10 list.

 "How The Man and I have stayed married for 15 years" top 10 list:

10.  We are okay with the fact that we are both going to change.  The Man is a different person (figuratively, not literally) now than he was when we got married, and thank God I'm different too.  I'm proud of the ways I've grown and changed.  I think I'm smarter, stronger, and more sure of myself than I was then.  Change is good.

9.   He makes me breakfast, and I make him potroast.  You may think I jest, but pancakes and bacon are direct roads to my heart.  It's hard not to love someone who feeds you delicious foods...even harder not to love them when they also clean the dishes after they cook.

8.  We support each other in our craziness.  I have a way of coming up with really wonderful, and stupid, and grand ideas.  The Man never looks at me like I'm crazy (well, not totally), and he'll play along at least some of the time.  It may be a 1000+ road trip over a three day weekend, or just a overly ambitious hike.  He might not join me for all my adventures, but he's always supportive and gives me the space to stretch my wild heart.  I'd like to think I do the same for him.  Support him, encourage him...give him the occasional nudge to try something he's been thinking about.

7.   We try to look good for each other.  I try not to wear clothes that he hates (at least most of the time), and I make sure my nails look good because I know that he likes that.  Hit the gym, and stay away from mom-jeans.  Taking care of yourself physically not only makes you look better, but it means you have more confidence and that's sexy too.

6. We try to let little shit roll off our backs.  Sometimes The Man does stuff that drives me crazy...and I KNOW I do things that drive him mad.  But if you let the little shit build up it becomes big.  So I do my best to let the little things go (although, I'll be honest, sometimes this is harder than it sounds).

5. We make memories together...lots of them.  Take lots of risks, go on lots of adventures.  They don't have to be big, or far away, or expensive, but they have to have intention.  This is the fuel that drives my life.  As cheesy as it sounds, I really believe that you have to make everyday an adventure.  If you try to find adventure in the little things, everyday life is much more enjoyable.

4.  We keep the house clean.  Okay, this may sound silly, but I really believe it helps.  If the house gets too messy it's harder for either of us to relax and enjoy each other.  Sometimes all it takes if an extra 15 minutes a day to pick up the clutter.

3. We just do it.  Lets talk about sex; with kids and jobs, and all the other life crap, sometimes it's hard to get in the mood.  I've found that if I just go with it, even if I'm not in the mood to start with, I'll end up being really glad I did.   And while we are on the topic, have fun with it, be adventurous, be open.  I guess what I'm saying is: Don't get in a rut.

2.  We try to be thoughtful.  We do little things for each other.  It may be bringing home flowers, or a bottle of whiskey.  It could be anything, but just try to be thoughtful and do little things for your partner.  If they are stressed, try to find a way to help.  Shoot a middle of the day text, or leave a note in the morning.  Just let your partner know that you are thinking about them and that you've got their back.

1.  We spend time apart.  I really believe this one is key.  I don't want to spend all my time around The Man.   There isn't anyone on the planet that I would want to be around all the time.  Hell, if I could I'd love to have some time away from myself every once in a while.  He's totally on the same page.  He spends one evening a week out with friends.  I usually take about one trip a year without him.  We spend time with friends.  We have hobbies that don't involve each other.  I'm not sure I'm going to go as far as to say that absence makes the heart grow fonder, but it certainly doesn't hurt.

Well, there ya go.

10 things that have helped The Man and I stay married for forever.  They might not work for everyone, but they have certainly helped us.  Every relationship is different, so it's important to find your own list.

What works for you?

I'm off to pack for camping... with children and my parents...not exactly a romantic way to spend our anniversary...but I'm alright with that.

When the timing is right

A couple weeks ago, I wrote about our Sweet Little Dog passing away.  Its funny how often I think of her; how often I still get a little choked up.  I miss her dearly.  I'm pretty sure no dog out there could cuddle as well as she could.  Wether it was a stubbed toe or a horrible case of strep throat, that little dog could make anyone feel a little bit better.

She will never be replaced.

I assumed that it would take me a long time to even want to look at other dogs, but I was wrong.  I quickly became that weirdo on the street who pointed out every dog that passed within 20 yards.  I petted every dog that I could, and I'm sure I made more than one dog owner feel a bit uncomfortable...hey, is this crazy lady going to try to take off with my dog.  I think, along with missing Sweet Pepper, I just missed the companionship.

So it didn't take long before my children's (and husbands) requests to go and look at the dogs at the shelter were answered with, "yes".

It started with a dog named Tater.  He was an 11 year old terrier.  I told myself repeatedly not to fall for an old dog, that my heart can't take another loss too soon.

But we went, and he was so sweet.  The kids fell in love instantly (although I'm pretty sure they would have fallen in love with any of the dogs instantly).  I started to go down that path too.  That was until the shelter representative told me that Tater had just had half of his teeth removed, and would soon need the other half removed as well...to the tune of $1500.00.  Yikes.  I mean, we all adopt dogs knowing they are going to cost money, but to have a bill that big right off of the bat was something we just couldn't take on.  So with my upset, whiney, unhappy, and begging for me to reconsider, kids in tow, we looked around at the other dogs.

There was the typical set:

• cute puppies playing (and peeing) happily.  No kids, we ARE NOT getting a puppy. 
• dogs who wont stop barking
• nervous older dogs, all of whom seem to be calling to me to take them home
• and that one, the quiet one, sticking her head around the corner trying to get up the nerve to come out and say hello.  

Those quiet ones always have a way with me.  

We managed to leave the shelter dog free that day, but I just could not get that quiet one out of my mind.  So a couple of days later we went back, and she was still there, and still shy.  We took her outside and played with her a little, and she started to come out of her shell a little bit.   The next day we went back AGAIN, and by this point she had my heart.  

So we took her home.  I'm so grateful that we did.  

Her name is Bergy and I'm sure you will be hearing lots about her.

Our goal was never to replace Pepper, we couldn't even if we wanted to.  But it sure is nice to have a dog around again.

Oh and PS.  Tater got adopted out the same day that we took our Bergy home.  A great big THANK YOU to Heart of the Valley Animal Shelter for helping animals find forever home and helping people find new friends.

how much is too much?

I have a tween at home.

As I have learned over the last year or so, that means lots of complaining... It's too hot outside.  It's too cold outside.  Homework takes FOREVER.  I have NOTHING TO WEAR.  All my friends have phones...

I could go on and on, but I bet you get the gist.

Due to the high volume of complaints that are in circulation throughout my house, we have been talking a lot about why complaining isn't good.  About how it can make you negative, only focusing on what you don't like.   About how, in turn, you only see the bad in the world and it can lead to a very negative outlook on life.

Recently, in an effort to try and combat the onslaught of complaints, hubs and I sat down to discuss ideas on how to battle.  There were lots of ideas but all seemed shitty.

• battle fire with fire (complaints get responded to with complaints)...we decided this would form a vicious cycle.
• ignore any complaining that found it's way out of the tweens mouth...well, sometimes she has a right to complain.
• make her list three positive things every time we caught her complaining...well, I guess I'm just not Mary Poppins because thought of this made me throw up in my mouth a little bit.

Only one idea seemed reasonable enough to try:

• give her complaint cards.  The idea here being that she starts the day with a certain number of complaint cards.  She can use them however she sees fit, but when she's out...she's out.  Hopefully this would make her think twice about complaining.  Is this complaint really worth it...

I'm sure you get the idea.

At first this seemed like a great tactic to try.  Although I wasn't sure what would happen when she ran out of cards and continued to complain, my hope was that at least it would make her more aware.  But the more I started to think, the more I started to worry.

We all complain, right?  Some complaints are totally valid.  I'm often a sounding board for my hubs when he gets home from work, and he does the same for me.  What is that other than complaining?  What about all the times I groan from the fridge, "Hey, who put the milk carton back empty?". 

The more I thought about it the more I realized how complaining is part of my normal, day to day, life.  I complain when I can't find something I am excited to wear, when plans I make fall through, or when I have to do dishes (or laundry) for what seems like the zillionth time that day.  I have been known to complain when someone ate the last apple, or used the last roll of paper towels and didn't let me know.  I complain about the cold, and sometimes the heat.  In fact, I just complained (albeit only in my head) about getting interrupted for about the 20th time while writing this blog post. The list is endless.  I could summarize it by saying this:  I realized that I have been known to complain when I breathe.

So after a bit of self-realization that my daughter may in fact be following in my footsteps I started to wonder what it would be like if someone gave me five complaint cards for the day and told me that was all I got.

I doubt it would be pretty (and I'm pretty sure there would be complaining from yours truly).

In the end, we decided to nix the complaint cards idea - I mean if mom can't get her shit under control, I can't very well expect tween to.  We had (yet another) good long talk about what it means to complain, and how some things are worth complaining about while other aren't...at all.  Things seem to have gotten better (for now), but I'm sure we will cross this bridge again. 

It turns out that focusing on the positive and not letting complaining get out of control is probably something that we all need to work on.  Because, we really are SO lucky.

the art of loss

Let me start by being very clear:  I am not much of a 'feelings' girl.

I'm not a cryer, in fact if you know me well, you will know that there are few things I dislike more than crying in front of people.  It's not that I want to seem stoic, or hardened.  It's simply not 'me'.  I don't like the way crying makes me feel, nor do I think it helps me cope.  It simply makes me feel uncomfortable and out of control of my emotions.

But, the last week or so, I've been having daily bouts with the feels.

We lost our dog.

Actually we didn't lose her at all, and I kind of hate that term.  We knew where she was all along.  She was with us, visiting vet after vet...getting sicker and sicker, with seemingly no idea what was wrong with her.  Until the vets had a theory...but no answer.  So we did the kindest thing we could do.  We had her euthanized.

It has been so damned hard.

Putting the dog down was awful.  I was a blubbering mess.  I was in it deeper with the feels than I have been in years.  But equally as bad (or maybe worse) was having to come home and tell my 8 and 11 year old that we had to put the dog to 'sleep'.  They not only lost a dog, but a best friend.  They lost the soul who would listen to their childhood complaints without rebuttal, who would lay with them when they were sick and help them feel better, who calmed their fears, and who was their ever present companion on the crazy rollercoaster called childhood.

And loss is something that's not easy to deal with when you are a child (heck, its not easy as an adult either).  Watching them grieve has reminded me of the five stages of grief.

1. denial
2. anger
3. bargaining
4. depression
5. acceptance

The loss didn't seem to hit my 8 year old right away, but a couple of days later it hit him like a semi-truck.  We had just come home from a long day.  My son was upset and tired and needed comfort...in the form of his dog.  The reality set in that she wasn't there to hold and cuddle hit him so hard.  The result involved much wailing and crying.  And much denial.  He insisted (through sobs that I'm surprised didn't result in a visit from CPS) that our dog was coming back.  That he would wake up in the morning and she would be there.   At first my husband and I tried to reason with him.  This just resulted in more tears.  We tried to divert his attention.  This just made him even more mad.

Things were spiraling out of control quickly.

His tears had eventually started my daughter crying...and I was on the verge as well.  This had been going on for close to 45 minutes and I saw no end in sight.  Eventually I lost it as well and all the tears that I'd been holding back while I watched him cry started to stream down my cheeks.

Through my tears all I could say was: "I know buddy, I miss her too.  I hope she comes back tomorrow too."

*Obviously I know she's not coming back, but that doesn't help me from wanting it in the moment.*

That was it.  That was what I needed to say all along.  Just the reminder that he wasn't in it all alone was enough to help my son crawl out of that dark hole and start calming down.  Having his feelings validated was what he needed.  He didn't need me to try to solve the problem (not that I could have anyhow), he just needed to know that he wasn't in it alone.

Eventually the tears stopped that night (from me included), and I was left with the reminder that kids are going through the same process we are.  That night my son was smack dab in the middle of the denial stage.  I had been there at some point too.  These stages of grief manifest differently on different people.

We are all there...trying to climb out of the same dark hole.

RIP Pepper Potts

its all hard

I vividly remember being about four months pregnant with my first child when I read somewhere about how common it was for women to poop while in the pushing phase of labor.  

I was appalled.

How come I had never heard this!?  How could a girl grow into a woman, sit through many a sex-ed class (even the weird one in church where we had to watch a video of a woman giving birth with full 70's bush), get married, and become pregnant and not find out this vital piece of information.  I mean come on now.  You want to talk about birth control... how about we tell teenage girls that if they get pregnant there is a good possibility of pooping in front of your doctor and baby daddy while in the midst of one of the most painful experiences of your life.  Oh and there's loads of other fluids too.  I guarantee you that those teenagers would be extra careful about using protection.  

But there I was, already pregnant...no going back now.  I dealt with it.  I got though my birth (thats a whole different story) and came out the other side with a beautiful daughter and I wouldn't change a thing.  That being said, I really wish that I had known about the whole pooping issue before I got knocked up.  Some things are just easier to deal with when you are good and prepared for them. But it seems like some of the more low down and dirty parts about child rearing are some of the parts that no one seems to want to talk about.

Over the last couple of years I've had a lot of run ins with one of those other parts of parenting that no one seems to talk about.

The fact that it doesn't get any easier. 

When my kids were babies it was so hard.  My nights were sleepless and my days were filled with pee and poop and vomit.  I would get so tired of being physically touched all day that by the time my husband came home, I handed the baby over and couldn't even give him a hug, simply because I was so desperate for my body to be MINE.  Keeping my children, marriage, and myself happy and heathy was just SO hard.

When my kids were toddlers it was so hard.  I was getting more sleep, but the days were even busier. I could no longer lay them in their swing to put that load of clothes away, or take a shower.  There were no longer the long stretches of sitting in a rocking chair nursing and snuggling.  Sure, naps were now a little more scheduled, but when the kids were up they wanted to be busy all the time.  It hadn't gotten any easier, or any harder.  It had just gotten different.

My youngest is in elementary school and it is so hard.  Sure he is going to school during the day, but somehow the hours while he is at school fly by with household tasks and errands...and you can forget about that if you are trying to work as well.  And the evenings are filled with after school activities. Between school, activities, meals and trying to get the kids to bed at a decent hour it is SO hard.  He is so great and can do so much to help take care of himself, but he is still little and needs so much help.  It doesn't get any easier, it's just different.

Now my oldest is in middle school.  It's so hard.  She's old enough to be home by herself for short periods of time, and even help take care of her younger brother.  She can even cook a basic meal.  In many ways things have gotten easier.  I rarely have a sleepless night, and I would LOVE to have a few more cuddles from my kids.  But now there is tween-age drama, constant activities, typical attitude and the age old struggle to find independence.  It is SO hard.  But have things gotten harder?  No.  They have just gotten different.  

And I worry about what is to come, about the stages we haven't hit yet.  

I will admit that it gets under my skin a little (okay, maybe a lot) when I hear moms who have children that are younger than mine talk about how they know things will only get easier.  Guess what? It doesn't.  And I hear it a lot.  

So I try to be honest...without being harsh.

Kind of like pooping on the delivery table, I want women to know what they are up against. Wouldn't it benefit everyone if we were honest about how hard it is to be a mom...or a dad?  Wouldn't it be better if we were all honest about what it's really like.  Why do we have to 'one up' each other with how hard we have it? 

Recently I saw on social media a woman who wrote about her experiance in an airport while she was traveling with her small children.  She got to chatting up an older woman about how hard it is.  How hard it is to be a good mom.  How hard it is to try and do it all (key word: try).   About how hard it is when they are little.  About how it will get easier.  The older woman's response was kind but honest. To sum it up: you just wait. While not the most supportive route to take I do appreciate her honesty. It doesn't get any easier.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I hope that as moms we can stop looking at each other and thinking about how much easier everyone else has it.  Its rough.  No matter where you are at.  

As a friend I will commiserate with you.  I will cry with you.  I will hug you and bring you wine.  I will do whatever I can to help you get through whatever stage you are at.  I promise not to look at you and assume that the place I'm at is any harder than where you are, but please do me the same favor. Don't assume that I have it easier just because my kids are older.

So lets get this shit out in the open right now.  It is hard.  It is all hard.  It doesn't get easier, it just gets different.

one of 'those' kids

When I was growing up there were always one or two of those kids, you know the kind, the kind that made it all look easy.  They didn't seem to have to try to get great grades.  They picked up every sport they tried without effort.  They always looked good and seemed to have endless supplies of confidence (even during puberty...yikes).  They always seemed to have something witty to say and were able to flow in and out of social settings with ease.  While I'm sure that not all was as rosy as it looked from the outside, it was quite a sight to behold as a child.

Well, now here I am, with children of my own.  Who would have thought...I have one of those kids.

Where did he get this level of awesome?  I have no idea.  Clearly not from me or his dad.

And now that I live with one of 'those kids' every day, I can attest to the fact that it is not all rosy.

School is too easy, we worry about boredom and have met with teachers to try to increase the challenge for him.  I (as a preschool teacher myself) can totally understand the difficulty of trying to challenge one child more, while still teaching a whole classroom.  At this point, we haven't found a solution to keep him challenged in school.  So, as his mom, I worry about boredom.  I worry that at some point he will 'check out' or stop trying.

Sports come naturally, but there is always someone better, someone stronger, someone faster.  When you become accustomed to winning, it can be a hard pill to swallow when you actually lose (which we all do).

Being the life of the party comes with its own set of expectations and responsibilities.  When you are a child it can be difficult to cope with this.  Too many friends knocking on the door to play.  Too many invites and playdates.  And once adolescence comes, you just hope your child will use this strange power for good instead of evil.

Even the big kids want to hang out with him.  I'm not sure this one needs a whole lot more explanation.

Maybe this sounds like a lot of blubbering about first world problems.
 
"Oh shit, my son is too cool!"

And maybe it is.  But I've seen the other side too.  I've been with the chid who cries because they just don't understand the homework.  Talked them through kids being mean, and hurtful, for stupid reasons.  Wiped the tears when the birthday party invite didn't come.

And I can't say that one is easier than the other.  They are just different.

And often times, both leave me wondering what I should do...

relish in the memories

Today I am going to relish in some memories.

Given that its throwback Thursday and my Instagram feed is filled with peoples memories, it's no wonder that I'm thinking about some of mine.

Just a few weeks ago, my family and I went on a fantastic mini-vacation.  It was one that I'd looked forward to for quite some time, and it was just as magical as I had hoped.  We went to Moab and spent the better part of the week exploring Arches and  Canyonlands National Parks.  We found little places to eat that we loved, and vowed we would go back to.  I watched my daughter be brave and my son be free to explore.  Even the car ride was something I look back on and smile.  Long hours in the car with your family should be part of every childhood.  We made memories.  So many memories.   

On the way home my husband and I talked about all the other places we want to explore,  the road trips we want to take the kids on, and the memories we want to make.   I think we started planning the next three (at least) vacations.  When I got home, I started Pinterest boards for these future trips and googling important stops to make along the way.  I am really looking forward to the next one.

But, as I sit and scroll through the feed of memories, I am beginning to think that I'm spending far too much time planning the making of memories, rather than enjoying the memories I have already made.  

How often do I sit and think about the places we have already been, and the things we've already seen.    I still have albums full of vacation pictures that have never been printed.  Mementos from trips that have never been framed.  

I spend way too much time thinking about the places I long to go rather than being amazed at the places I have already been.  

In a world that is full of 'keeping up with the Jonses', it's hard not to look at the amazing things others have experienced and not feel some level of envy.  I want to see those things too.  I want to make those memories too.  But the reality is, that with a world as big as the one we live in, we will never see it all.  We will never go to all the places on our lists, or see all the things that we wish we could...and thats okay.  That's part of what makes the human experiance so great, there will always be the unknown.  

So instead of spending all my free time thinking, and planning, where to go next, I vow to spend some more of that time relishing in the places I have already been, the experiences I have already had, and the memories I have already made.  

Because they were pretty rad.