Enough Self Love

A site that I absolutely adore posted this link about self-love. So you don’t have to open if you don’t want to, a 250lb woman strutted down Hollywood Blvd in a bikini. People then stared at her. Then she stated she wanted “to promote body confidence.” Now, what I understand about this is she’s aware that she needs to lose weight, but she wants to love herself now.

That’s absolutely awesome.

But can’t she do that wearing a pair of skinny jeans and a freaking shirt? The comments on the post made it worse that it should be. Everyone wants self-love. Everyone preaches self-love. But like it or not; how we dress matters. How we present ourselves matters even more.

I agree that so many need to have some self-love. No one should feel so terrible about themselves that they walk around in an outfit with their buttcheeks hanging out of the pant legs, and the sisters hanging out in the front. That is absolutely sad. Regardless of size.

We’ve gone way past self-love. Now we’re just using it as an excuse for selfishness, and calling it something to justify it. Below is my original comment, followed by the replies I received by some other followers.

I’m sorry, but… No. There’s self-love, and then there’s just being inappropriate. You CAN love your shape and dress for your shape at the same time. When we, as women, wear this nonsense, what message are we sending to our kids? Are we dressing like the women we wish our sons to marry? I doubt it.

ca——aw^^^ffs. What is so hard to understand about what @birthwithoutfear is trying to say? Every time someone gets all high and mighty. And wth would I dress ‘like the women we wish our sons to marry’? I dress for myself and occasionally for my husband. And I want my son to marry whoever steals his heart and loves him fiercely- what she (or even he!!!) is wearing has nothing to do with it. Shallow.

k—-dc Inappropriate for who?? Your eyes cause it’s something you don’t want to see?? Get over yourself. There are lots of men and women who love curvy women, why… because we have a confidence about us. We are at home and comfortable in our own skin. I personally think girls with a less than curvy figure that wear shorts up their ass or their breast falling out are inappropriate but that’s my opinion. I don’t tell them that because maybe they felt very sexy and confident that day. Good for them!! Don’t bring somebody else down cause it’s not to your liking or what you think is inappropriate.

jenntwilleySo, by that argument if your son walked in with someone who dresses like a prostitute, you’d be totally ok with that? Really? How we present ourselves *does* matter. I’m not saying don’t love yourself, but if you’re going in to a job interview, you really going to wear a lowcut top so the interviewer gets a good luck at the ta-tas? What’s shallow is doing everything for yourself and just expecting the world to cater to your whims.

jenntwilleyAnd I do agree that shorts up the ass and boobs falling out are inappropriate for skinny girls: because they are inappropriate *for everyone*

k—-dc There is a difference by going to an interview dressed skimpy abd messing a point as this lady was doing. Opinions are like assholes. Everyone has one and they are all different.

k—dc*and making

I could have gone on, but it’s basically pearls before swine at this point. This site is dedicated to mothers. And that’s my point. As a wife first, I dress so that my husband doesn’t have to apologize for me or be embarrassed by me. As a mother, I dress so that my son knows what a woman should look like. He thinks I’m wonderful already; but he needs to know what to look for. And if I don’t teach him something: everyone else will.

I am all about self-care and loving who you are. I’m more about making better decisions and self-awareness. If you want to only do something for yourself – and there’s nothing wrong with that – then don’t get married. And sure as hell don’t ever have kids. The day you commit to someone you are saying that you will never again make a decision that doesn’t only affect you. Having a child says that you will never again put yourself first.

Maybe this makes me an old-fashioned jerk. But I don’t think you should ever have to dress a certain way to show self-love.

A Birthing Story

How God Makes Beautiful Things out of Dust…

I had been waiting for this for weeks. Given the promise by my then OB-Gyn that I could go into labor any day by 37 weeks, I had literally planned on going into labor any day… I planned my schedule around it. When my due date came and went, a reality slowly began to sink in:

I’m not in control of this any more than I’m in control of how the sunrise looks in the morning.

What do I trust?

I had made the switch from a “normal” OB practice and hospital birth to the commitment to a natural childbirth in a birthing center with a midwife. It was a ridiculous amount of God’s favor to make a switch at 38 weeks. I was panicking a little when I was basically fired from my OB for asking for my records, but so be it. It was in God’s hands now.

What do I trust?

I had watched every documentary on natural childbirth that I could get my hands on. I had done ridiculous amounts of research. But nothing actually prepares you for the birth experience. I knew Hubs was super-supportive, and would be amazing. I was with him, so I felt invincible.

What do I trust?

Finally, at 41 weeks I started having serious contractions. I started timing them, and they went from every hour to every 20 minutes in a few hours. Called the midwife, and she wanted them at 10 minutes before we came in. I learned about having pain that you can’t talk your way through, that random bleeding, and feeling like you’re losing control is a good thing. I was losing control just like I was supposed to.

We started being attacked; Hubs and I were across town from each other. Money was super tight, I was at the grocery store because I knew we had to have food for the next few days while we were holed up at home. The debit card wouldn’t work. The paypal wouldn’t work. Hubs couldn’t get what he needed done at work; I’m stranded, in labor, at Walmart. We made it home. I put in my favorite CD of all of our favorite love songs as we drove to the birthing center. We prayed. We laughed. He would rub my hand and pray during contractions.

I saw a strength in my husband that I have never seen before in anyone. He never once complained about how tired he was – and I knew he was exhausted. When I got to 5cm, they allowed me to get into the tub. He rubbed my back; he ran 3 miles back and forth to the kitchen to get water and tea. He cooled my forehead with a cold washcloth and told me I was beautiful.

I remember telling him that I loved him over and over. I remember one specific conversation in the tub:

Me: Hey baby, will you do me a huge favor?

Hubs: Of course, my love! What can I do for you?

Me: Will you marry me?

Hubs: Heck yeah!! We should have a baby.

Me: We totally should!!

This was a conversation we’ve had no fewer than a million times over the last several months. It brought more than a chuckle to the midwives whom were also exhausted. But that day it seemed so Real. We were about to physically view the extension of our love. A combination of the two of us that we had created.

It was perfect.

They figured out that while J’s body was straight on, his little head was turned sideways, and it was putting pressure on his little arteries every time I pushed. I had to get out of the tub, and at this point, after I had been pushing for an hour, moving and doing anything was a little unreasonable, let alone hiking out of the tub. My amazing husband all but lifted me out of the tub on his own, and all but carried me to the bed. It was only a step away, but it felt like a huge ordeal. I immediately felt the weight of what the water was supporting, and it became much harder.

Somehow, Hubs managed to be in charge of one of my legs and getting me sweet tea at the same time. He was amazing. Not long after I had been pushing on the bed, he heard a conversation I didn’t hear: they were thinking about transporting me. I didn’t hear the conversation, but I did hear my husband, praying in tongues over me as I began to push again. Suddenly, the little guy’s head shifted, and my body took over pushing. Hubs said later that he could see my entire stomachand I was able to push my son into the world a few minutes later.

Just before 3 am that Saturday morning, our lives changed forever. He was perfect. Poor little head was a bit bruised where my body had pushed him through an opening he wasn’t wanting to go through, but he was perfect.

As the midwives began to take care of me, stitching me up nicely and tending to my son who was already sleeping happily in a blankie, Hubs and I began to sing our favorite song together:

The Lord is my light and salvation, whom shall I fear? Whom shall I be afraid?

The Lord is my light and salvation, whom shall I fear? Whom shall I be afraid?

I will wait for you.

I will remain confident in this: I will see the goodness of the Lord.

This wasn’t meant to be a super-spiritual post. But if I’ve ever tasted God’s presence before, it tastes like sweet tea in a birthing tub.

God, grant me the serenity….

So, remember my post about vacations and car problems? (you can click here to catch up.)

Ok, good. Because today we look at part two. Ironically with the same vehicle.

Last vacation, aptly named our “babymoon” since it was our last hurrah before our son is born, we took a vacation to the beach. It was beautiful. Seriously. South Padre will always have a little bit of a soft spot in my heart, but admittedly, some not-so-great memories started to resurface.

The first time Hubs and I went together,  it was horrible. Hubs managed a terrible sunburn and a jellyfish sting. We fought almost the whole time, and it was a nightmare.

I was terrified that it was going to happen again. Terrified that I told him that I would be willing to go to Colorado (against my better judgment) to make him happy. He finally cornered me on where I wanted to go, and I sobbed. I really didn’t care where we went (although the altitude made me nervous) but I was just so nervous that we were going to have a repeat of every beach vacation that we’ve ever taken. He promised, and then got excited about going back.

And part of it came back to haunt me.

For those of you who have never been, South Padre has several points where you can drive directly on the beach and get a great parking spot. We found the bestest parking spot.

And proceeded to get stuck in the sand.

Seriously.

Long story short, we ended up snapping at each other, and it sent me into a tailspin. I apologized no fewer than 20 times, desperate to get him to acknowledge my penitence. He kept saying he wasn’t mad, and proceeded to get the car unstuck from the ditch of sand we had dug ourselves into. That’s when it hit me;

He wasn’t mad.

No, seriously. LIke, he wasn’t mad at all. Gave me a quick kiss, and looked over to see tears streaming down my face. He gave me a beautiful hug, and literally reiterated. He wasn’t mad. Instantly, we were back to ‘normal’ and had a blast.

We parked (differently) and had an absolute blast in the water. Napped in the shade, snacked and had sandwiches, and didn’t spend more than $4 on the whole day. And that’s when it happened:

The check engine light came on.

Now, to give a brief history, the car has a background with that little orange light. Namely, it usually means that the gas cap isn’t tightened all the way, and it shows up as an emissions leak. It’s never once had a major problem. Never. This car has 206k miles, and the most expensive part I’ve ever replaced was an alternator. And I replaced the gas cap to keep stupid stuff like this from happening.

So, while we had a blast for the week that we went through Texas, there was also something lurking in the back of our minds.

Please oh please oh please oh please don’t let something BIG be wrong with the car.

I didn’t say anything too much, until we went to Galveston. I asked very nicely if we could find an auto parts store to do a reading on the light. Hubs didn’t say anything either.

What I didn’t know is that he knew had pushed the transmission to a pretty high rev. He was terrified something big really was wrong. Finally, after a few days, he stated, “I just hope it isn’t the transmission”

I just stared at him.

“Baby, if it was the transmission, the transmission light would be on instead of the engine light.”

“This car has a transmission light?”

“My king, it has several of them: for the trans itself, the fluid, the temperature, and something about the pressure of the seal” (which I still don’t understand)

Instantly, his mind was relieved. He never told me how stressed out he was. He never went into any description. He had rehearsed 18 different scenarios of survivalist maneuvers, only to find out at the auto parts store – it was the gas cap.

Fast forward to last night.

As most of you know, We are currently expecting our first baby. I’m about a week OVER my due date, and we had an appointment with the midwife. Of course, we were hoping that we would get in there, I’d be dilated to like, a 9 or something, and we’d get to stay. So we packed for battle. As we’re driving the hour commute to the hospital, I look over and see that the temperature gauge is over the halfway point. I start panicking. The last time that happened, there was air in the line, and it would overheat without warning. I asked Hubs about it.

“Babe, it’s fine. It’s just warm.”

IT MOST CERTAINLY IS NOT FINE. We are going to be stranded with the dog and all of our bags, and I’m going to have to walk 10 miles just to get to the Highway patrol station, and He’s going to have to get a second job to afford all of the repairs. I can’t believe this. He drives this car every day. How could he not notice the coolant was low? How could he be THIS IRRESPONSIBLE??? He knows what our financial situation is right now! How are we going to do this???

My head took off a little without me.

God, I really need your help here. Pleeeeese help me just keep my mouth shut.

I’m near tears. I’m furious. And, that’s when I realize… I’m scared.

I’m not just scared. I’m terrified. Is this just about the stupid thermostat? No way. Our lives are about to change forever, and I’m totally letting my hormones run amok with everything else.

After the appointment (which was completely non-eventful, btw) he decided that I should drive. Hubs HATES driving in traffic, and we were in rush-hour everywhere. That’s when I was the most humbled I have been in a long while.

I was looking at the wrong gauge. The one I was fixated on: was the oil pressure.

The thermometer was normal. Completely and totally normal. No lights. No problems. Car was even full of gas.

Yep.

“Oh, God… ” I said.

“Yes, my love?” He says, giggling quietly.

“Oh, babe. I’m so sorry.” I said.

“I wondered why you were freaking out.” He said “Do you really not trust me when I say, ‘everything’s ok’?”

“I do. I really do.” I shake my head.

I’ve decided to change the serenity prayer.

God, grant me the serenity

to keep my stupid mouth from talking

my mind from creating 100 terrifying scenarios

and my heart from not trusting you.

More Than Just Marriage.

I don’t think the issue is divorce. Ever.

That “D” word has been a sensitive topic in the church for eons, and I don’t think it will ever change. Marriage is a powerful force on this earth. A good marriage is a force to be reckoned with. A great marriage just drives people crazy.

We use a scripture to prove our point, and then hammer it home with nails of shame, guilt, and anger. Malachi 2:16 does indeed say, “I hate divorce.”

Now, you can either get over it – or you can read the few chapters that comprise the book of Malachi, and gain some perspective on what God is trying to say.

He isn’t happy. In fact, I’ve never really seen in such great detail on how p!ssed God is at the Israelites.

And divorce isn’t the issue. Seriously.

When you [priests] offer blind [animals] for sacrifice, is it not evil? And when you offer the lame and the sick, is it not evil? Present such a thing [a blind or lame or sick animal] now to your governor [in payment of your taxes, and see what will happen]. Will he be pleased with you? Or will he receive you graciously? says the Lord of hosts.
Malachi 1:8

In the words of Joe McGee, “I see that one-eyed, three-legged goat that you put on my altar. You can’t breed it; you can’t sell it. But you don’t mind giving it to me.”

In other words; we’ve treated God like our garbage disposal. He’s getting our leftovers. Not our best. The Laws that tell the Jews of what is supposed to be a sacrifice are the foretelling of the Lord Jesus Christ – the final sacrifice.

The next part is a little long, but please bear with me:

And this you do with double guilt; you cover the altar of the Lord with tears [shed by your unoffending wives, divorced by you that you might take heathen wives], and with [your own] weeping and crying out because the Lord does not regard your offering any more or accept it with favor at your hand.

14 Yet you ask, Why does He reject it? Because the Lord was witness [to the covenant made at your marriage] between you and the wife of your youth, against whom you have dealt treacherously and to whom you were faithless. Yet she is your companion and the wife of your covenant [made by your marriage vows].

15 And did not God make [you and your wife] one [flesh]? Did not One make you and preserve your spirit alive? And why [did God make you two] one? Because He sought a godly offspring [from your union]. Therefore take heed to yourselves, and let no one deal treacherously and be faithless to the wife of his youth.

16 For the Lord, the God of Israel, says: I hate divorce and marital separation and him who covers his garment [his wife] with violence.
Malachi 2:13-16a

God is now calling the bluff of the men of Israel. They have divorced the wives that they married in their faith, to marry a “heathen” or Gentile. They’ve deliberately mistreated the women, so that they would run away, then they can accuse the women of leaving – according to Moses, that was grounds for divorce.

Then they griped and moaned that God wasn’t honoring their sacrifices. Really? They were unrepentant of the treachery that they had committed on the altar of the Lord, they were mistreating their wives so badly that the women were literally fleeing, and they were complaining because God somehow had a target on their back until they repented.

God hated divorce for the same reason he hated the retarded goats that were being placed on His altar: Marriage is a symbol of the Coming of Christ. We, his church, are presented as a bride to our bridegroom. And I can guarantee that God has felt like wiping out his children and not making any more. But he didn’t. He’s in love with us.

They were making a mockery of His LOVE. No wonder God was furious!

This is why I contend, and have said it before, that God isn’t mad at us for leaving abusive situations. In fact, He’s seen it before, millions of times. Men (or women) who deliberately mistreat their spouses to the extent that they leave, only so that the offending spouse can marry another or play the victim as the other one leaves.

It’s a story as old as time itself.

Proverbs refers to it again and again: The foolishness of man subverts his way [ruins his affairs]; then his heart is resentful and frets against the Lord. (Prov 19:3)

We screw something up because of our own mistakes, then we become bitter, or worse yet, think God is behind all of this. The most pious will claim that their faith is being tested and ask for prayer; instead of just repenting and changing our behavior, it becomes someone else’s fault.

God’s not super happy about that. It’s not about the divorce; it’s about what it represents. Broken hearts, broken promises, broken homes. And so many think that God’s love is just like their ex’s love; temperamental, codependent, and passive. Because someone who promised to love them changed and went back on what they said they would do, the broken heart assumes God will do the same.

And that is NOT the God I serve.

I urge those that are going through the Respect Dare to continue until the end. I hear so many, see so many that just trash their husbands: how much money they make, how little they do, etc. behind their husband’s back. Many “do their own thing” because they can’t stand the way their husbands do small things. I’m not saying that women can become that cold-hearted, but… many become so hell-bent on proving something, that they sacrifice the beautiful oneness that is an amazing marriage. For many marriages, it’s not about having an “ok” marriage but about having a GREAT one. A marriage that truly reflects God’s love and purpose is a powerful commodity!

But for those that are victims of abuse, don’t feel like you could have done something to save your marriage. The abuse was put there deliberately as an attack. It was the abuser’s fault; not the victims. Are there ways to handle someone who mistreats you – YES. If you need some pointers, go here.

But at some point, we have to climb down off the cross. Jesus was done with it; so are we.

We can admit that in our own brokenness we did things that were really stupid.

We can admit that some things were done to us that were downright evil.

We can admit and come clean with everything, and repent and know that God loves us anyway.

We can refuse to stop hurting other people because we are so engrossed in our own pain.

And we are free.

The Marriage Goal

I heard the most heartbreaking thing I’ve heard in a while just a few days ago. A young woman was looking for a job, but it would mean considerable time away from her family – something that she claimed she never wanted.
As I cautioned her about this her reply broke my heart:

“but with that job I could be completely financially independent.”

“Is that your goal in marriage? To be financially independent?” I said.

Does that confuse anyone else that a goal in marriage is to not need the other person at all – except for when it’s convenient?

I am at a loss.

Marriage is dangerous. It’s a powerful weapon in the eyes of God. It sets thousands to flight in our faith, and creates a bond that can never be broken. Marriage changes everything. It changes how we see things and make decisions. It puts two families together, and creates children that will forever be connected to both of you.

Marriage changes everything. Or at least it should. When two people come together, a man shall leave his mother, and a woman leave her home, and they will become one flesh.(Gen 2:23-24) The two people who make that covenant start creating a life together; ONE home, a conglomeration of furniture that doesn’t match, two eating habits eating one meal, ONE bank account, and ONE household. One head of the household.

Marriage is dangerous.

And the world hates it.

Why is it that events such as weddings get very little attention over such dramatic things as divorce and break-ups?

Why is it that a cheating scandal will plaster the cover of several magazines, but celebrities who have been married for several years having their third child are lost, if they’re even mentioned at all?

Happy couples make people sick. Happy MARRIAGES drive people crazy. Some argue that you lose part of yourself in an attempt to be who someone else wants you to be. Some argue that you become more of whomever you are in an attempt to assert your independence.

My argument is that you DO lose part of yourself – because you ARE becoming someone else. You don’t get married to HAVE a spouse. You get married to BE a spouse. But you also become more of yourself; you just have to pick what part of yourself is increasing. Is it the part of you that doesn’t feel like you can trust anyone else and constantly feels like you have something to prove? Or is it the part that embraces the changes that you now experience? Do you love creating a safe place for someone to fall, thrilled that they are succeeding in their career? Or is it a constant one-upmanship?

Do you have a five-year plan that only includes YOUR goals?
What are the goals for your marriage?

Yes, the marriage. If you’ve ever played or worked on a team of any kind you may understand that the team has a goal to WIN. A team plays against an opposing team; there are rules and goals, and they have an objective.

What does your objective look like for your marriage? Because, let’s face it: there’s a whole world out there that’s on the opposing team. Proverbs has warned about the women who will – on purpose – seduce your husband into committing an affair. There will be decisions about our emotions, ladies, that can lead us to commit emotional and physical affairs that will destroy us.

If we don’t have a goal, we will be destroyed.

“Where there is no vision, the people perish” (Prov 29:18)

You can make a decision that your marriage will succeed. Or someone will make that decision for you.

 

Do YOU need respect lessons?

My job is pretty awesome. I get to people-watch in courtrooms, and fight the urge to yell, “Jer-ry! Jer-ry!” at some of the parents. I get to drive around a few different cities, and am very seldom trapped in an office. Except for when I have to do paperwork (and NO ONE hates paperwork more than me) I rarely even use a computer. The world of blogging has been a comfort and a blessing. I get to stare at a little white screen and pretend that millions of people will soon swoon over my obvious writing skills and pass it on to others that will do the same.

Think “A Christmas Story” – Digital Version.

Except by the time I come home, all the cool ideas I’ve had for a blog during the day get lost in the maze of spaghetti that is my female brain. Lost forever. But this one has been rattling in there for a while. As so many of our friends here are doing the Respect Dare by Nina Roesner, and many of my clients are being escorted through the 5 Love Languages by Gary Chapman, it occurred to me. There are WAY more people that are doing things half-right. So, in light of my very own experience with the Online Marriage Evaluation, I prepared a short questionnaire that may lead you to see if any of this stuff is for you – or if you’re doing it perfectly.

And if you’re doing it perfectly, stop reading my blog and get your own. I have a feeling it’s the same ones of you that can fit into your highschool jeans. Go eat a cookie or something. The grown-ups in the room would like to talk.

1) Are you nice to the waiter/waitress, but rude to your spouse at dinner?

2) Would you ever speak to your dog/cat/goldfish in the manner you speak to your spouse?

3) Do you and your spouse have separate bank accounts because you (or they) have trust issues?

4) Do you have a 5 year plan written out together? What about a Dream Plan?

5) Are you or your spouse inventing reasons, volunteering for activities or overtime – just so you don’t have to come home?

6) When was the last time there was a good ‘rustle under those covers?

It’s not an exhaustive list, by any means. But I see a LOT of families a day. I see mostly families that are in some serious trouble – enough that when they come to me all I get is: “THEY’RE the problem (pointing at the kiddo) and YOU need to fix them.”

That kiddo isn’t usually the problem. They’re usually the symptom. They’re the running nose, the cough, or the fever. They’re the sign that something else is seriously wrong. Sometimes it’s “just” drug abuse or alcohol, and they’ve made some stupid choices. Most of the time it’s because dad (or mom) is in jail, Mom (or Dad) has made some seriously selfish mistakes because of their own entitlement, or a combination of all of the above.

And a lot of it comes from a lack of respect.

If you’re saying that they don’t deserve respect, then I suggest that you check out this little gem right here. Odds are most of us don’t deserve respect. I don’t actually “respect” my dog, but I’m pretty nice to him. In all fairness, he’s a seriously awesome dog. But if I’m nicer to the dog than my husband, I need an attitude check. If I’m really nice to the server who has been so generous to refill my water 18 times, but the second they turn their back, I’m pouncing on my husband’s eating habits, what kind of message does that send?

Maybe the world does need a little more respect. I know mine can always use more, and I have the best husband on the friggin’ planet.

What is Romance?

Who actually looks like this?

So often, we think of romance as the infamous February 14th holiday. Every man fears it. Every woman secretly hopes that something wonderful happens.

It’s ridiculous.

My husband did something far more romantic just a few weeks ago. He fixed the toilet!

This is romance. Seriously.

That evening the toilet had been acting funny. We only have one bathroom, so if THE toilet isn’t working, it’s a state of national emergency. I thought it was going to overflow, so I turned the water off and let it drain down. Then I turned it back on, and flushed. Same MO. Dang. I told the Hubs, and he said he’d fix it.

But that doesn’t always follow my timetable.

In the middle of the night, as my usual 8-mos prego routine, I went to pee. I was terrified that it would overflow so I sat there and listened to it stop.

It stopped. I waddle back to bed.

Later that same night, Hubs goes into the bathroom, and apparently there was water on the floor. He told me the toilet overflowed (and sounded kinda mad) and that he would fix it in the morning.

I was a little defensive, but in all the strength I had, I just said, “I’m sorry” and let it go.

Then I get this beautiful note.

Cool, huh??!!

This past weekend, Hubs and I learned a valuable parenting lesson:

You will be putting stuff together for the rest of your life.

All those cool boxes of stuff: do not come assembled.

Who knew?

Hubs knew. And He. Was. Ecstatic.

He spent 2 hours putting together the stroller and swing/bouncy chair. He worked on it steadily almost an entire evening home.

I thought it was pretty romantic. Until I read his Facebook status:

My first night spent putting together J’s toys. The first of many over the next two decades. This is so AWESOME!

Sigh. Swoooon.

What is romance? Is it the man who works a 50-hour week and wants to get a part-time job so I don’t have to work as hard considered romance? Is the man who gets up early so he can work in the garden to provide good food for his family less romantic? Is it romance when you send someone you love to bed early, and take care of the “getting ready for bed” sequence for them?

It’s romantic. Flowers die. Chocolate is nice, but honestly none of us actually need it.

We need to feel respected. We need to feel safe. We need to know that the toilet isn’t going to drown the dog in the middle of the night when we get up to pee.

I know so many of us long to be “swept away” in a beautiful vacation, or a wonderful dinner. So many single ladies view romance as candlelight dinners, fondue restaurants, and jewelry. Most married women get pretty excited about our husbands doing the dishes, quiet(ish) evenings with a bowl of cereal and a Unit marathon, or simply seeing your husband put together a toy that requires an engineering degree just to hold a person the size of an eggplant.

It’s still romantic. Really it is.

What Do You Have to Prove?

Last summer, Hubs and I went to Rocky Mountain National Park for a week-long adventure of hiking, whitewater rafting, hiking, photography, hiking, and taffy eating. But mostly hiking. Our major adventure for the week was a TWENTY MILE hike down over a valley, over the Continental Divide, and up the other mountain. Our goal was to get to a lake that was actually the starting point of the Colorado River. Hubs, being ex-military and hiking enthusiast that he is, packed his rucksack like a pro. We had food, a poncho, a pony, a flashlight, and a first aid kit. That thing was HEAVY. What did I carry?

The water. One, measly little Camelbak full of water. It weighed maybe 9 pounds. I was furious, but I tried to keep my mouth shut.

We started off with a considerable amount of layers on. Being that we were already pretty high, the air was thin and it was cold that morning. We both had multiple layers of breathable clothing, ate a good breakfast (in relative terms) (ok, it was crap from McDonalds) and were excited about trying to do this. I had never done anything like this, but I was with Hubs, so I was invincible.

The views and the atmosphere were absolutely stunning. We weren’t running, but we did hit a pretty impressive pace. We’d stop for water and realize how high we were. Hubs had to teach me something they learned in HALT training: how to breathe. Shortly, how to force air to your brain before you pass out. It wasn’t long before we realized that all the people who were joyfully hiking with us were no longer behind us. We were on our own now. And Hubs looked like he was getting tired.

I wanted to show him that I could be an asset. I wanted to show him that I was just as capable as he was.

I wanted to prove to him that I was valuable.

We stopped for a snack break beneath a beautiful tree on Thunder Pass. It was quietly sleeting/raining, and it was so amazingly peaceful. Literally no one was out there. I really wanted to give him a break, so we laughed over dried cherries and beef jerky. It wasn’t until later when I’d learn the best lesson I’ve ever learned about myself.

Fast forward about 9 miles, we are soooo close to the lake that we’re almost running trying to get there. Ok, running is a strong word; we were dying. Combined with altitude, the fact that the “trail” was literally a 45-degree angle, and we had already hiked 12 miles, we were shuffling.

Desperate to give my husband a break, I asked and asked and asked to help carry the rucksack. Finally, he was tired enough to let me help him, and switched me.

That thing weighed at least 200 pounds. I swear to God. It was like carrying a bag of concrete strapped to my chest. The belt hit right below my diaphragm and made it impossible to breathe. I was determined to at least help him a little, and shuffled my way about 8 miles – or 9 feet, whichever came first…

He took the rucksack back from me. I almost puked. That’s when it occurred to me: he needed to do this. He needed to be this man. It was never about how I could help him or what I could do for him: it was about what he needed to do. I wasn’t built to handle his job.

Now, I could go into 100 reasons why I wasn’t able to complete this task: I wasn’t doing gluten-free anything, and so my muscles were filled with MSG, I was tired already, the pack was situated weird, my mommy didn’t hold me enough, whatever. The point is, feminism only goes so far in a relationship. Love never asks about our ability to do stuff. Love only asks that we BE what we need to be. Hubs didn’t need me to carry his load; he needed a cheerleader.

And I was so caught up in proving I was as good as he was, that I missed my chance to cheer him on. I missed my chance to be what he needed me to be. I missed my chance to let him be the leader he wanted to be.

And we missed the lake.

We promised ourselves that we’d go back to Thunder Pass when baby J gets a little older and try again.

BEWARE the Online Evaluation

Ok, so I’m having a baby in like 5 weeks. My personal cell phone – where I accomplish every single thing I do during the day – has had a nervous breakdown. The bills have been sky-high recently, draining more of our finances than I think is necessary. We haven’t gone grocery shopping in a while, but have lots of “stuff” so I’m getting to be creative, and honestly kinda like the challenge. My husband’s laptop has also had a nervous breakdown. We owe more money for his school than we can pay right now, and the Army won’t get off their butt’s and call us back.

In short: it’s been a little stressful time.

Lesson learned: THAT IS NOT THE TIME TO TAKE AN ONLINE EVALUATION OF YOUR MARRIAGE.

EVAHH!!

Ok, so here’s the link to the “Free Marriage Evaluation” that we took. It’s not the worst one out there, and honestly? Both times we took it, we did pretty well. The “weakest link” was ONE area of weakness – Affection. Which we both laughed out loud on. We make our friends SICK with how affectionate we are.

I made an OJA worker nauseous just telling him about how my amazing husband sings my son to sleep every night while he is in my belly.

But apparently, I’m a little stressed.

And, yes, you did read that right: both times we took it. Actually… um… all THREE times we took it. We each did it individually… and then I made the stupidest mistake I’ve done in a while…

We took the thing together.

Two hours later… we still weren’t done. It’s a 30 question quiz. It took us all of 5 minutes to complete separately.

Well, crap.

The quiz showed me the following:

That I don’t feel appreciated or important to my husband (because he should know all kinds of things that he’d know if he could read my mind, dangit)

That I don’t feel like I get enough affection from him (even though it’s 200 degrees outside, and we’re both sweating up a storm, we’re supposed to have a make-out session every night, right?)

That I feel taken for granted.

According to my husband, he’s the worst person on the planet because I get off the sofa and refill his lemonade.

I can’t make this up.

Now, are we stressed right now and need to go over the budget so I can breathe a little easier? Yes. But for crying out loud?!! Are we really failing at our marriage because he doesn’t refill his own lemonade??!!!

I remember all of those quizzes that we as teens took in magazines about “Is He a Friend or a Boyfriend?” “What’s Your Clothing Style?” and “Are You a Go-Getter?”

then I look at the magazines we read today…

“Lose Weight with this ONE Simple Rule!” “Are you a Diva in the Bedroom?” and my personal favorite, “What’s Your Sex IQ?”

How mature of us. I mean, Cosmopolitan is SOOOO much more mature than Seventeen magazine, right?

Right?!!

cricket… cricket….

Except for the fact that every article thinks you should still weigh the same in your 30’s that you did when you were 18 or 19. Some of you can do that. I’d like those of you that do to just stop reading this, and go eat a donut or something. Thanks.

How realistic are we being here? How much truth do we put into a 5 minute quiz and then set our life goals on that? Now, some tests are pretty reliable, and I can tell you that some of the more widespread psychological testing (Myers-Briggs is all over the internet) that has been proven reliable is one thing.

But to put faith in Cosmopolitan or even a super-duper Christian counseling quiz without any amount of professional evaluation: FAIL.

So, after 2 hours of discussion, and me assuring him that he is not the worst human of all mankind, we went to bed. Now I feel like a total ingrate for everything that he does for our family, and he feels like a failure. This morning, as we got up and I made his lunch, etc. He literally tried not to thank me TOO much. So I wouldn’t get paranoid.

If that’s not love, I don’t know what is.