My realtor advised that I leave, take the kids and dogs, and get out to stay with my folks so it would make the selling process easier. So I did the long drive with two kids and three dogs and moved into my grandma's house while we listed, sold, and moved out of the house. I don't know if she realized that me staying with my folks so the house could sell easier meant being 20 hours away from my co-parent. But it did sell fast, so that's a blessing.
Now, I'm certainly not alone, not by a long shot. Between my grandmother and her husband picking up after us and occasionally feeding us, not to mention running to the grocery store, I feel like I shouldn't complain too much. Then there's my mom and dad not even a hundred yards away from my grandma's to help out here and then too, and a few tens of feet from them, an additional refurbished garage with my sister and her husband, their two kids, and my younger brother. And of course, ever busy, but always willing, my younger sister, who lives just 20 minutes away, 10 if you speed and there's no red lights.
Even with all these wonderful people around to pick up the slack, turn to in times of need, and avid babywatchers, I NEED my husband. Because for every other person here, their help is optional. Their needs will always come before mine or my kids, which is fair and right and despite some surprise and disappointment, I have realized that my expectations on them (specifically my mother) were ridiculously overwhelming.
Bedtime routine is always thrown off by someone else. Three separate households means anyone and anything can be found at any time in any different location. There's never one set plan, one set house to hang out at, or one schedule to stick to. If I need something, I have to ask for a favor. I have to be ready to give something in return for a 20 minute break from holding my 5 month old. They are always gracious, loving, and mostly willing. But everyone needs breaks from each other now and then and I have no where that is just mine. I sleep with my infant, shower with my toddler. There are always someone else's fingers in my food and water. I have to share every little part of my day with two precious babies.
And I am about to lose my mind.
It's not just parenting alone. It's also being in someone else's house. My toddler insists on opening the door EVERY time I'm on the toilet. We're also in the middle of potty training, so accidents have been happening. My 3 dogs compete with the 3 dogs who already live here for dominance, love, attention, food, water, and who can terrorize the goats, chickens, and horses the worst. Not to mention the littlest dog suddenly got the poops and rather than let her stay out in the "cold" (its CA. We've just come from SD. THIS IS NOT COLD), my grandma has insisted she stay in her walk in shower, and two days of dealing with THAT nasty mess, my lovingly misguided grandma decided that it was time for me to put my dog down!! (I didn't. I took her to the vet and got her on some diarrhea-stopping meds and food.)
It's only been a month. I can only imagine what it must be like for single moms and dads, widows and widowers, people forced to do it alone all the time. Maybe its almost easier in some ways, because if you don't expect the help, if you know no one is going to come strolling through the door at 6:00, then you only have your own schedule to keep, your own routine to follow, and your own expectations to fulfill. Or if you work, that's kind of your break in some weird way. You get to be human again. You get to just be yourself and not a pair of boobs to feed to your spawn. But mostly, I think it is just awful, lonely, hard, stressful, and dehumanizing in a lot of ways. I haven't really gotten a break to just be myself, thinking my own thoughts and eating MY OWN FOOD WITHOUT SOMEONE ELSE'S SPIT ON MY FORK.
My husband leaves this Friday to begin the drive across the country to us. Unfortunately, he's taking a detour to drop his mother off in his home state and have a short visit with his family. I know I shouldn't. But I resent this delay in his arrival with every piece of my being. I have been doing this alone (yes, even surrounded by people, the kiddos are 100% my responsibility 100% of the time) for 30 days and will have to continue for another 4.
Better sign off there. My 2 and a half year old will be in as the sun crests over the horizon to jump on my head and the baby is crying for boob. God grant me strength.
Thursday, March 12, 2020
Thursday, January 23, 2020
Missing my pieces
I haven't been apart from my little duck since the day she was born for more than a few hours. I suppose I could count the time she slept over at my mom's house when I was trying to wean her, but I was only a few yards away at my grandma's... was there for bedtime and for breakfast, so does it really count?
But now we're hundreds and hundreds of miles apart for the first time. It's so quiet. It's so lonely. I'm desperate to know everything she's thinking every second we're apart. Is she having fun? What does she think of the plane? Is she getting enough attention? Is she having fun with her family?
Obviously, intellectually I know most of the answers to these questions. But emotionally I want to be there with her. She's a little piece of my soul, wandering around, exploring the world. She used to be inside me. And then she lived off of me. Now, she's an independent little creature, able to go far off with other people.
My son is sound asleep near me and I wonder how long it will be before he can go off without me. A few short years. That concept is so mind-boggling. That years suddenly feel short.
Looking back to how I felt right after high school, it felt like I was never gonna get married. Looking back into the first few years of me being married, it felt like I was never going to have children. I was so desperate for it. For these big life events to happen RIGHT NOW. But the truth is... they did happen fast. They weren't slow, weren't a long process. It felt long and impossible... until it happened. And then suddenly my period of waiting seemed so short. Its a fact of adulthood that I am faced with over and over again. It's something that's been said to me for as long as I can remember. But somehow, these life-truths don't become real until you've lived through it.
I'm going to be 28 in two short months. 28, waiting for my husband to come join me at our new base. So many things have changed, and here we go, ending up back where we first met. Life is funny that way. It's made us both pretty reflective lately.
I miss him. I miss my little girl. But all too soon this little vacation from real life will end and we'll be back to the craziness of all of us here, packing up for the move. I'm going to try to enjoy these days while I can. Even though they kind of suck in their own way.
But now we're hundreds and hundreds of miles apart for the first time. It's so quiet. It's so lonely. I'm desperate to know everything she's thinking every second we're apart. Is she having fun? What does she think of the plane? Is she getting enough attention? Is she having fun with her family?
Obviously, intellectually I know most of the answers to these questions. But emotionally I want to be there with her. She's a little piece of my soul, wandering around, exploring the world. She used to be inside me. And then she lived off of me. Now, she's an independent little creature, able to go far off with other people.
My son is sound asleep near me and I wonder how long it will be before he can go off without me. A few short years. That concept is so mind-boggling. That years suddenly feel short.
Looking back to how I felt right after high school, it felt like I was never gonna get married. Looking back into the first few years of me being married, it felt like I was never going to have children. I was so desperate for it. For these big life events to happen RIGHT NOW. But the truth is... they did happen fast. They weren't slow, weren't a long process. It felt long and impossible... until it happened. And then suddenly my period of waiting seemed so short. Its a fact of adulthood that I am faced with over and over again. It's something that's been said to me for as long as I can remember. But somehow, these life-truths don't become real until you've lived through it.
I'm going to be 28 in two short months. 28, waiting for my husband to come join me at our new base. So many things have changed, and here we go, ending up back where we first met. Life is funny that way. It's made us both pretty reflective lately.
I miss him. I miss my little girl. But all too soon this little vacation from real life will end and we'll be back to the craziness of all of us here, packing up for the move. I'm going to try to enjoy these days while I can. Even though they kind of suck in their own way.
Thursday, January 9, 2020
POOOOOOP!!! I suck.
I suck. I mean it. There are days that I really really truly SUCK. I mean, I fall so short of who I could be that I feel like I don't even know how to associate myself with that person.
It happens when I'm mad. It happens when I joke. It happens when I don't think. It happens when I mean it. When I mean it so much and then an hour, or a night, or a few days, or years go by and then I look back and I think... "Why did I mean that??? Why did I feel that way? Think like that?? Why did I ever SAY or DO or let myself BELIEVE that??"
I have to acknowledge where I have fallen so short of who I am in a giant, ego-crushing, eat-my-pride, look-myself-straight-in-the-eyes-and-say"YOU SUCK" kind of way that I'm not even sure of who I am anymore.
And it's good. It's miserable and hard and HORRIBLE. I cannot ask for forgiveness and expect it. I cannot just ignore it. I have to live in a place of true self-actualized truth that I suck sometimes. And it's so much better than ego. It is. I want to break down those horrible habits. I have to CHANGE my thought-process. Every horrible, selfish, self-righteous moment of short-sighted judgement and pity-partying idealism that I have indulged in... I want to use these to become more like my mom. More like my sister. More like the person God wants me to be. It's barf-worthy. It's disgusting. But I am so happy to go through it, come face to face with who I am and can be and use that to CHANGE. Truly change. I don't want to be who I was. I don't want to be who I am. I want to grow into someone that can be trusted. That can be vulnerable. That is kinder, truer, more patient, more loving. Someone who you can tell a secret to and know it can be kept. That can be told something hard and not judge you for it.
I thank God for these opportunities. I don't want to stay stagnant, self-righteous, judgemental. I want to be better for the people who are always so good to me.
It happens when I'm mad. It happens when I joke. It happens when I don't think. It happens when I mean it. When I mean it so much and then an hour, or a night, or a few days, or years go by and then I look back and I think... "Why did I mean that??? Why did I feel that way? Think like that?? Why did I ever SAY or DO or let myself BELIEVE that??"
I have to acknowledge where I have fallen so short of who I am in a giant, ego-crushing, eat-my-pride, look-myself-straight-in-the-eyes-and-say"YOU SUCK" kind of way that I'm not even sure of who I am anymore.
And it's good. It's miserable and hard and HORRIBLE. I cannot ask for forgiveness and expect it. I cannot just ignore it. I have to live in a place of true self-actualized truth that I suck sometimes. And it's so much better than ego. It is. I want to break down those horrible habits. I have to CHANGE my thought-process. Every horrible, selfish, self-righteous moment of short-sighted judgement and pity-partying idealism that I have indulged in... I want to use these to become more like my mom. More like my sister. More like the person God wants me to be. It's barf-worthy. It's disgusting. But I am so happy to go through it, come face to face with who I am and can be and use that to CHANGE. Truly change. I don't want to be who I was. I don't want to be who I am. I want to grow into someone that can be trusted. That can be vulnerable. That is kinder, truer, more patient, more loving. Someone who you can tell a secret to and know it can be kept. That can be told something hard and not judge you for it.
I thank God for these opportunities. I don't want to stay stagnant, self-righteous, judgemental. I want to be better for the people who are always so good to me.
Sunday, December 8, 2019
2019 Christmas
Something miraculous has happened this Christmas. I have almost everything done... and I'm only a week into December. I was determined to have my shopping done in November, and I'm so close, I can almost taste it. I have been wrapping gifts and putting together my packages for my family. I want to make sure that everything is delivered before Christmas, but I never thought I'd actually DO it. And yet, here I am... my brother and sister-in-law's gifts are wrapped and ready to go. All the nieces, done. My brother, done. My younger sister, done. My older sister, almost done, but not quite. (I need a box for a complicated gift). My bro-in-law, done. My dad has long-since been taken care of. His gift is even there already. My mom, my mother-in-law, and my father-in-law are really the only ones who I desperately need to take care of. My mom's gift is more of a project, and I want to get her something else as well. My mother-in-law is always so hard to buy for and for some reason the second I got married, it became my responsibility to buy gifts for all his family? It wasn't a responsibility I was prepared for. And its not one that I'm very good at either.
I kind of want to get something else for Evie. I don't have a big present for her. I have lots of fun little ones, but I really want to get her a little play piano. I think she would love that. Maybe some more books, I love reading to her and she loves being read to.
I feel like even though I put all this effort into gifts every year, its never enough. I want to give as much as I love... and that's just not possible.
With all this time, though, I want to be able to focus on what this season is really all about. I want to take the time to enjoy all the good things about Christmas. Making cookies. Decorating. Spending time with family. Driving around and seeing all the lights. But more than anything, listening to God, spending time with him, and giving him the attention he deserves.
I kind of want to get something else for Evie. I don't have a big present for her. I have lots of fun little ones, but I really want to get her a little play piano. I think she would love that. Maybe some more books, I love reading to her and she loves being read to.
I feel like even though I put all this effort into gifts every year, its never enough. I want to give as much as I love... and that's just not possible.
With all this time, though, I want to be able to focus on what this season is really all about. I want to take the time to enjoy all the good things about Christmas. Making cookies. Decorating. Spending time with family. Driving around and seeing all the lights. But more than anything, listening to God, spending time with him, and giving him the attention he deserves.
Saturday, December 7, 2019
Showing up with God
I have been feeling such a loss of faith, more and more, as I grow as an adult. It’s not as easy to show up and put in the work to find my faith as it was when I was young. Especially since I was blessed with the privilege of going to private school 2-12 grade. Being surrounded by other people my age who knew and loved God, being required to attend chapel, vespars, and church was like a cheat code to feeling connected to a higher power.
But this year, I want to restart my whole life... I want to show up. Even when it feels fake. Even when I feel like I feel nothing, have no faith, and barely believe in the truth of God. I’m going to show up anyway.
I started this blog at the beginning of the year, a half-baked thought, a determination to try. I think I gave up because I didn't have faith in myself. And yet here I am... almost exactly a year later. And I have. I have really tried. I have shown up, I have followed my faith, I have carved out the smallest, saddest path to God I can. I have been doing my devotions, talking with my mother, my sister-in-law, my sisters, my husband. I have been trying and with help. And while I haven't felt some magical coming-to-God moment, and I don't know that I've truly given up my doubts, I do feel closer to the truth. Reading the Bible is wonderfully comforting, if not a little frustrating at times. I have so many questions, so much confusion when I read certain passages. Verses where I feel sure that I'm supposed to find understanding, only boggle me.
I am learning I am showing up. And I do feel like I'm on the right path. I thank God every day for his patience with me. I am determined to get to know Him. I long for Him with every second of my day, every breath in my body, and every confusing moment. I can't say that I know what I'm doing, or if this is the way to find him. But I am still chipping away at the wall of unbelief in me.
Bob Goff says in his book "Love Does" that he felt like he was stalking God. Instead of seeking a relationship, he was searching for facts. He was learning everything he could about God, but not actually nurturing a real, active friendship with his Creator. I feel like that's where I am right now. I'm still in the stalking phase. I'm looking at God through other people trying to figure out how to let him into my life in a real and active way. I haven't quite gotten there yet. But I'm not giving up.
I have completed 51 devotions this year, that's almost a devotion a week, though that was completely by accident and there were definitely weeks where I didn't seek God at all. I am working on three devotions right now, one about loving my husband well (sometimes I feel like I put my husband into the God role, and I often feel the most understood when I'm fostering my relationship with my spouse through God's word), one about Christmas (I admit that this feels familiar in a way that doesn't bring much understanding... same old verses said in the same old way and I don't feel the conviction of truth that most people who are seeking God talk about finding) and a 365 day devotion with my mom to read the whole bible in a year. This one is the most compelling for me. 1) I have never read the whole Bible and feel like a bad christian for never having even attempted it, and 2) the reader and writer for this devotion really does feel like a true leader for relationship instead of religion. I don't always agree with him. I don't always feel compelled to actually do the devotion, but I am inspired to keep going.
And that's what I'm doing right now. I'm just showing up with God. I hope that this leads to actually feeling His presence in my life, letting Him lead me, and give a REAL example for my children to follow.
But this year, I want to restart my whole life... I want to show up. Even when it feels fake. Even when I feel like I feel nothing, have no faith, and barely believe in the truth of God. I’m going to show up anyway.
I started this blog at the beginning of the year, a half-baked thought, a determination to try. I think I gave up because I didn't have faith in myself. And yet here I am... almost exactly a year later. And I have. I have really tried. I have shown up, I have followed my faith, I have carved out the smallest, saddest path to God I can. I have been doing my devotions, talking with my mother, my sister-in-law, my sisters, my husband. I have been trying and with help. And while I haven't felt some magical coming-to-God moment, and I don't know that I've truly given up my doubts, I do feel closer to the truth. Reading the Bible is wonderfully comforting, if not a little frustrating at times. I have so many questions, so much confusion when I read certain passages. Verses where I feel sure that I'm supposed to find understanding, only boggle me.
I am learning I am showing up. And I do feel like I'm on the right path. I thank God every day for his patience with me. I am determined to get to know Him. I long for Him with every second of my day, every breath in my body, and every confusing moment. I can't say that I know what I'm doing, or if this is the way to find him. But I am still chipping away at the wall of unbelief in me.
Bob Goff says in his book "Love Does" that he felt like he was stalking God. Instead of seeking a relationship, he was searching for facts. He was learning everything he could about God, but not actually nurturing a real, active friendship with his Creator. I feel like that's where I am right now. I'm still in the stalking phase. I'm looking at God through other people trying to figure out how to let him into my life in a real and active way. I haven't quite gotten there yet. But I'm not giving up.
I have completed 51 devotions this year, that's almost a devotion a week, though that was completely by accident and there were definitely weeks where I didn't seek God at all. I am working on three devotions right now, one about loving my husband well (sometimes I feel like I put my husband into the God role, and I often feel the most understood when I'm fostering my relationship with my spouse through God's word), one about Christmas (I admit that this feels familiar in a way that doesn't bring much understanding... same old verses said in the same old way and I don't feel the conviction of truth that most people who are seeking God talk about finding) and a 365 day devotion with my mom to read the whole bible in a year. This one is the most compelling for me. 1) I have never read the whole Bible and feel like a bad christian for never having even attempted it, and 2) the reader and writer for this devotion really does feel like a true leader for relationship instead of religion. I don't always agree with him. I don't always feel compelled to actually do the devotion, but I am inspired to keep going.
And that's what I'm doing right now. I'm just showing up with God. I hope that this leads to actually feeling His presence in my life, letting Him lead me, and give a REAL example for my children to follow.
Tuesday, November 12, 2019
Baby Number 2
The fear that washed over me when I saw those two lines appear on the stick was so real and raw. I’m not ready. Evie’s not ready. She’s still breastfeeding! I only miscarried 3 months ago!! This is too soon. And yet... I knew it was coming. The night of conception, I knew this was going to be the result. Even as I lay in the aftermath and panic washed over me as I counted and realized I had lost a week between Christmas and New Years... I knew I was going to get pregnant.
I had asked if Petal would mind if I took the morning after pill. Just the one that postponed your ovulation. Nothing awful. Not the abortion pill people think it is. Just a rush of hormones to push back your egg dropping a little bit. But he said we should trust God.
So now what, God? I trust this is your plan... but I didn’t stop worrying about it for many many months.
Now, I look down at my perfect baby boy, and I know now what God knew then. What an incredible blessing. What an incredible journey to meet my rainbow baby. My little slow moving sloth boy. My husband’s newest best friend. Soon, my daughter will have a perfect playmate. God even knew to make him bald so my vicious hair-pulling two year old would be rendered unable to inflict pain!
And in five short months... we move home again! Home to my family’s town. Home to my beat friend. Home to Cali. Home.
All I have is peace. Joy. And so. Much. Thankfulness.
I had asked if Petal would mind if I took the morning after pill. Just the one that postponed your ovulation. Nothing awful. Not the abortion pill people think it is. Just a rush of hormones to push back your egg dropping a little bit. But he said we should trust God.
So now what, God? I trust this is your plan... but I didn’t stop worrying about it for many many months.
Now, I look down at my perfect baby boy, and I know now what God knew then. What an incredible blessing. What an incredible journey to meet my rainbow baby. My little slow moving sloth boy. My husband’s newest best friend. Soon, my daughter will have a perfect playmate. God even knew to make him bald so my vicious hair-pulling two year old would be rendered unable to inflict pain!
And in five short months... we move home again! Home to my family’s town. Home to my beat friend. Home to Cali. Home.
All I have is peace. Joy. And so. Much. Thankfulness.
Thursday, October 18, 2018
My husband's crush
It's so natural. I have watched my parents discuss it. I heard my grandparents joke about it. These crushes we get, because when you get married, (as much as I wish we both could and would), you don't go blind to all other attractive people. I think there is some danger in religion that tells you that you must never have any sort of romantic or sexual feelings outside of your marriage. So when it does happen, because let's face it: it happens all the time, good people cheat because they think it means something more than it does. "If I'm not supposed to feel this way and I do, it must be because God's telling me I'm supposed to be with that person, right?"
At least, that's my theory.
But growing up with parents and grandparents who so obviously loved each other, who would openly talk about other people they found attractive, softened me towards the idea that no one gets married and stops looking at the sexy barista the same way you always did.
I copied my nanny and pointed out sexy women to my husband, the way she used to with her husband. I copy my mom and admit there is a level of attraction with my husband's friend. And by talking about it out loud with the man that I love, it never lingers long in my brain, floating away like the silliness that it is.
It doesn't come as easy to my husband, as most things that have to do with romance and sexuality. But over the years, more and more, he has opened up and embraced his sexual side and talked about his attractions with me.
One story imparticular amused me to no end. He told me he went to get lunch at a local smoothie place. They are notoriously long with making the food, and he had forgotten to bring his phone in and had nothing to do. So he sat there watching the young pretty girls work in their tight pants and midriff bearing shirts, looking at cute butts. I thought it was adorable, natural, and all too familiar.
I feel that I have set this precedence. With my open-mindedness, my communicative tendencies, and my desire to propagate healthy relationships with one's sexuality.
Enter The Flower.
It started out as half-hearted mentions of her name, always with a "Miss" at the beginning. Expressions of miner annoyances. Then turned into complaints. Oh how obnoxious. She thinks she's so funny. Everyone loves her so much. She wears clothing that's too tight for her job. She's always flirting with the new airman. She's married but spends way too much one on one time with the new guy. Along with the occasional comments on her looks. She was hot.
A friend saw some people from my husband's office working a booth at a street fair and asked them if they knew him. They gushed about how nice he was, how charming... She didn't catch their names, but said one was older and the other was absolutely gorgeous. I mentioned this to my husband and he said, "That's The Flower."
These complaints began to really take the form of a crush to me when I went out of town for a month and half. He had mentioned spending some time with her. Casually. In the background of other conversations so it didn't seem sketchy. Because it wasn't sketchy. They're both happily married, plus she's got a fling on the side with a coworker already, so really, she's too busy to pay him any attention, and why do I keep bringing her up anyway?
A few phone calls over an afternoon, him complain about his loneliness, missing me, missing our daughter. He texted a photo of grilling me with a caption of, "This is what I'm doing this evening!" And nothing else. I finally call as I'm putting our daughter to bed to see if he'd like to say goodnight and as soon as he picks up he says, "Oh, I have the flower and coworker over for dinner." All day he could have told me. The picture of him grilling their dinner, he could have mentioned it. But he chose the moment where I might overhear them on the phone to give me a casual mention of the whole story.
I tried to dismiss it. I was patient and kind and got off the phone. And obsessed on it for the rest of the evening. 10 came. I called again, thinking the guests would be gone and I could chat with my hubby for a little while. They were still there.
The obsessing doubled. I opened up about why I was being so quiet to my sister. She was equally perturbed. I texted and asked him to call when they left.
11 rolled around, no call. 12. Nothing. 1:30 in the morning and I finally called him. THEY WERE STILL THERE. He said on the phone, "It started storming and we're just snuggled up on the couch with the dogs waiting for it to blow over." I hung up on him.
I was livid. I asked him to text me a picture, proving the coworker was actually there and he wasn't just hanging out with the flower alone. He did. But I could see her knees in ripped jeans were sitting awfully close to MY HUSBAND. I hate those knees. Her jeans are stupid. I hate her stupid feet resting on MY FLOOR with her boney little butt on MY COUCH playing cards with MY HUSBAND.
They left shortly after, as my husband told them I was uncomfortable. Thanks, dear. Now I'm a psycho and they KNOW I'm a psycho.
Because I WANT to be the cool, calm, and collected wife that is confident and chill and knows that her husband isn't up to no good and that realizes there is a perfectly good explaination for everything and that at most it's just a little crush! A crush on a sexy girl from the office that I have nothing to worry about because she's married, and he's married, and I'm fine. Fine. FINE, I TELL YOU.
But I'm not fine. I'm not cool or collected. I'm an insecure mess because I know I'm not my husband's physical ideal. I'm not really anyone's physical ideal. I used to be chubby-thin but now, I have blossomed into a saggy stretch-marked fat version of a girl who used to be cute in high school. Now I have too many chins to be cute. I'm not unknown anymore. I am the same-old-same, getting older and more stretched out and less ideal every day. There's no excitement because we've been married for 4 years, together for 6, and he's seen a baby explode out of my body in a mess of blood and liquid and I am no longer the pale secretive peach of perfection I once was.
He apologized. He had a million great reasons and explanations. All of them made perfect logical sense. But my logic wasn't hurt. My emotions were. My pride. My trust. My defenses shot up and I felt as though this was the precursor to a sad ending of my love story. (That would be my flair for the dramatic, I suppose).
Life went on. We talked every day. One lonely day leading into another until he could drive out and meet me in Cali. He filled his days with anything to distract from being alone in an empty house. He tried Yoga, he told me. I encouraged him and I tried to forget about The Flower.
He surprised me by showing up a day early and we were thrilled to be around each other again. We visited with my family and then went up to see his. And I tried not to think about her. I tried not to feel like the disgusting creature every insecurity I had was telling me I was. I faked it a lot. But one night I felt it... I felt the pull to investigate.
So while he was sleeping, I took his phone and I went searching. I searched through everything.
I do not condone this behavior. If you feel the need to snoop, three things can happen: You find something and it breaks every ounce of trust you have, You don't find anything and feel like an idiot. Or you find something small... and blow it way out of proportion.
Can you guess which happened to me?
The small thing was texts from the flower. Asking him if he was going to meet her for Yoga. And going back further, plans for the night she was coming over for dinner with the coworker. And random gossip about someone they worked with. Nothing dating as far back as when I was home. It was clear they had only started texting while I was gone.
He hadn't mentioned she was the one pushing him to go to Yoga with her. He had also made dinner and game night seem like a last minute impromptu thing.
I sat there with this information, laying in the dark next to my sleeping husband, trying to figure out what this all meant.
It was a crush. An innocent, nothing crush. I knew that. The problem comes in... with the sneakiness. And the sneakiness stems from the "It's nothing" mentality in order to ignore the slight guilt that you shouldn't want to spend time with someone who isn't your wife.
Again. This was all just my theory.
But there is another spiraling part of me that thinks about the fact that people do cheat. They do. Good people cheat. Bad people cheat. People who get caught up in, "It's not that bad" for so long, they're ignoring it when it turns bad. People in good relationships cheat. People in bad relationships cheat. And I couldn't quite stop myself from wondering, what if I'm in a good relationship... but he's in a bad one?
I woke him up. And we talked for a long time. He said all the right things. He admitted that I was probably right about a lot of my conclusions. That he had a crush. That his complaints came from a wish that she showed him more attention. That he avoided talking to me about it because there was nothing to tell... Even though there kind of was. But it's just a meaningless crush. He'd never cheat. He'd never leave. He'd never hurt me. He wants me and only me.
I lost trust that day because I found out instead of being told. Because lying to me was easier than just an uncomfortable conversation. I felt more insecure than ever.
You know what's really difficult about being married to someone you're completely in love with? You are totally vulnerable. And I think that vulnerability is kind of beautiful. It's kind of sad. It can make you stronger or make you weaker. I am stronger than the day we got married. But I am also so much weaker. There are pieces of my self-esteem that he had annihilated, and pieces he has built up to be stronger than ever. I'm forever being changed and chipped and built back up. And I'm sure I do the same for him. I have hurt him. And I have helped heal him.
It's been a while since that late night conversation. I have brought her up in vengeful ways. I have needled and picked at him. I have annoyed myself with my inability to keep my mouth shut as I come out with biting comments.
He rarely has a comeback. And he never answers my scorn with his own. But he doesn't try to sooth me either. I don't know if he knows how. I don't know if I would let him, even if he did.
But now there's a night out coming up with the people from his office. And he has told me that she wants to meet me. She thinks I don't like her. I've only ever seen her knees through ripped jeans in a photo... so the only reason she could possibly have come to the conclusion that I don't like her is from things he's said. And I hate that. I hate the idea that he has spoken to her about me. It might just have been about things he said that night. The night of the dinner, I mean. But she's hung on to them as much as I have, apparently.
And for some reason, her nagging him to get me to come to the Speakeasy seems to be winning over my desire to stay home with my baby. And he keeps telling me to find someone to babysit that night.
I don't want this. I don't want any of it. I don't want to think about it or worry over it or blow it up to be bigger than it is. But I already have. I don't want to look at her or meet her. I don't want her to try to be my friend. My husband thinks she's hot. That's enough reason for me to want nothing to do with her. I just want to leave this base. Leave the crush behind. And not have to share him anymore.
Not that I'm sharing. He doesn't text her. He doesn't text anyone really. He doesn't mention her. He doesn't act happier certain days or name drop ever. I'm just tense, and broken and vulnerable and insecure and I hate it.
At least, that's my theory.
But growing up with parents and grandparents who so obviously loved each other, who would openly talk about other people they found attractive, softened me towards the idea that no one gets married and stops looking at the sexy barista the same way you always did.
I copied my nanny and pointed out sexy women to my husband, the way she used to with her husband. I copy my mom and admit there is a level of attraction with my husband's friend. And by talking about it out loud with the man that I love, it never lingers long in my brain, floating away like the silliness that it is.
It doesn't come as easy to my husband, as most things that have to do with romance and sexuality. But over the years, more and more, he has opened up and embraced his sexual side and talked about his attractions with me.
One story imparticular amused me to no end. He told me he went to get lunch at a local smoothie place. They are notoriously long with making the food, and he had forgotten to bring his phone in and had nothing to do. So he sat there watching the young pretty girls work in their tight pants and midriff bearing shirts, looking at cute butts. I thought it was adorable, natural, and all too familiar.
I feel that I have set this precedence. With my open-mindedness, my communicative tendencies, and my desire to propagate healthy relationships with one's sexuality.
Enter The Flower.
It started out as half-hearted mentions of her name, always with a "Miss" at the beginning. Expressions of miner annoyances. Then turned into complaints. Oh how obnoxious. She thinks she's so funny. Everyone loves her so much. She wears clothing that's too tight for her job. She's always flirting with the new airman. She's married but spends way too much one on one time with the new guy. Along with the occasional comments on her looks. She was hot.
A friend saw some people from my husband's office working a booth at a street fair and asked them if they knew him. They gushed about how nice he was, how charming... She didn't catch their names, but said one was older and the other was absolutely gorgeous. I mentioned this to my husband and he said, "That's The Flower."
These complaints began to really take the form of a crush to me when I went out of town for a month and half. He had mentioned spending some time with her. Casually. In the background of other conversations so it didn't seem sketchy. Because it wasn't sketchy. They're both happily married, plus she's got a fling on the side with a coworker already, so really, she's too busy to pay him any attention, and why do I keep bringing her up anyway?
A few phone calls over an afternoon, him complain about his loneliness, missing me, missing our daughter. He texted a photo of grilling me with a caption of, "This is what I'm doing this evening!" And nothing else. I finally call as I'm putting our daughter to bed to see if he'd like to say goodnight and as soon as he picks up he says, "Oh, I have the flower and coworker over for dinner." All day he could have told me. The picture of him grilling their dinner, he could have mentioned it. But he chose the moment where I might overhear them on the phone to give me a casual mention of the whole story.
I tried to dismiss it. I was patient and kind and got off the phone. And obsessed on it for the rest of the evening. 10 came. I called again, thinking the guests would be gone and I could chat with my hubby for a little while. They were still there.
The obsessing doubled. I opened up about why I was being so quiet to my sister. She was equally perturbed. I texted and asked him to call when they left.
11 rolled around, no call. 12. Nothing. 1:30 in the morning and I finally called him. THEY WERE STILL THERE. He said on the phone, "It started storming and we're just snuggled up on the couch with the dogs waiting for it to blow over." I hung up on him.
I was livid. I asked him to text me a picture, proving the coworker was actually there and he wasn't just hanging out with the flower alone. He did. But I could see her knees in ripped jeans were sitting awfully close to MY HUSBAND. I hate those knees. Her jeans are stupid. I hate her stupid feet resting on MY FLOOR with her boney little butt on MY COUCH playing cards with MY HUSBAND.
They left shortly after, as my husband told them I was uncomfortable. Thanks, dear. Now I'm a psycho and they KNOW I'm a psycho.
Because I WANT to be the cool, calm, and collected wife that is confident and chill and knows that her husband isn't up to no good and that realizes there is a perfectly good explaination for everything and that at most it's just a little crush! A crush on a sexy girl from the office that I have nothing to worry about because she's married, and he's married, and I'm fine. Fine. FINE, I TELL YOU.
But I'm not fine. I'm not cool or collected. I'm an insecure mess because I know I'm not my husband's physical ideal. I'm not really anyone's physical ideal. I used to be chubby-thin but now, I have blossomed into a saggy stretch-marked fat version of a girl who used to be cute in high school. Now I have too many chins to be cute. I'm not unknown anymore. I am the same-old-same, getting older and more stretched out and less ideal every day. There's no excitement because we've been married for 4 years, together for 6, and he's seen a baby explode out of my body in a mess of blood and liquid and I am no longer the pale secretive peach of perfection I once was.
He apologized. He had a million great reasons and explanations. All of them made perfect logical sense. But my logic wasn't hurt. My emotions were. My pride. My trust. My defenses shot up and I felt as though this was the precursor to a sad ending of my love story. (That would be my flair for the dramatic, I suppose).
Life went on. We talked every day. One lonely day leading into another until he could drive out and meet me in Cali. He filled his days with anything to distract from being alone in an empty house. He tried Yoga, he told me. I encouraged him and I tried to forget about The Flower.
He surprised me by showing up a day early and we were thrilled to be around each other again. We visited with my family and then went up to see his. And I tried not to think about her. I tried not to feel like the disgusting creature every insecurity I had was telling me I was. I faked it a lot. But one night I felt it... I felt the pull to investigate.
So while he was sleeping, I took his phone and I went searching. I searched through everything.
I do not condone this behavior. If you feel the need to snoop, three things can happen: You find something and it breaks every ounce of trust you have, You don't find anything and feel like an idiot. Or you find something small... and blow it way out of proportion.
Can you guess which happened to me?
The small thing was texts from the flower. Asking him if he was going to meet her for Yoga. And going back further, plans for the night she was coming over for dinner with the coworker. And random gossip about someone they worked with. Nothing dating as far back as when I was home. It was clear they had only started texting while I was gone.
He hadn't mentioned she was the one pushing him to go to Yoga with her. He had also made dinner and game night seem like a last minute impromptu thing.
I sat there with this information, laying in the dark next to my sleeping husband, trying to figure out what this all meant.
It was a crush. An innocent, nothing crush. I knew that. The problem comes in... with the sneakiness. And the sneakiness stems from the "It's nothing" mentality in order to ignore the slight guilt that you shouldn't want to spend time with someone who isn't your wife.
Again. This was all just my theory.
But there is another spiraling part of me that thinks about the fact that people do cheat. They do. Good people cheat. Bad people cheat. People who get caught up in, "It's not that bad" for so long, they're ignoring it when it turns bad. People in good relationships cheat. People in bad relationships cheat. And I couldn't quite stop myself from wondering, what if I'm in a good relationship... but he's in a bad one?
I woke him up. And we talked for a long time. He said all the right things. He admitted that I was probably right about a lot of my conclusions. That he had a crush. That his complaints came from a wish that she showed him more attention. That he avoided talking to me about it because there was nothing to tell... Even though there kind of was. But it's just a meaningless crush. He'd never cheat. He'd never leave. He'd never hurt me. He wants me and only me.
I lost trust that day because I found out instead of being told. Because lying to me was easier than just an uncomfortable conversation. I felt more insecure than ever.
You know what's really difficult about being married to someone you're completely in love with? You are totally vulnerable. And I think that vulnerability is kind of beautiful. It's kind of sad. It can make you stronger or make you weaker. I am stronger than the day we got married. But I am also so much weaker. There are pieces of my self-esteem that he had annihilated, and pieces he has built up to be stronger than ever. I'm forever being changed and chipped and built back up. And I'm sure I do the same for him. I have hurt him. And I have helped heal him.
It's been a while since that late night conversation. I have brought her up in vengeful ways. I have needled and picked at him. I have annoyed myself with my inability to keep my mouth shut as I come out with biting comments.
He rarely has a comeback. And he never answers my scorn with his own. But he doesn't try to sooth me either. I don't know if he knows how. I don't know if I would let him, even if he did.
But now there's a night out coming up with the people from his office. And he has told me that she wants to meet me. She thinks I don't like her. I've only ever seen her knees through ripped jeans in a photo... so the only reason she could possibly have come to the conclusion that I don't like her is from things he's said. And I hate that. I hate the idea that he has spoken to her about me. It might just have been about things he said that night. The night of the dinner, I mean. But she's hung on to them as much as I have, apparently.
And for some reason, her nagging him to get me to come to the Speakeasy seems to be winning over my desire to stay home with my baby. And he keeps telling me to find someone to babysit that night.
I don't want this. I don't want any of it. I don't want to think about it or worry over it or blow it up to be bigger than it is. But I already have. I don't want to look at her or meet her. I don't want her to try to be my friend. My husband thinks she's hot. That's enough reason for me to want nothing to do with her. I just want to leave this base. Leave the crush behind. And not have to share him anymore.
Not that I'm sharing. He doesn't text her. He doesn't text anyone really. He doesn't mention her. He doesn't act happier certain days or name drop ever. I'm just tense, and broken and vulnerable and insecure and I hate it.
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