My Husband, the Superhero

I'm not really in the blogging mood right now.  I'm too busy feeling bad for myself.  So, instead of focusing on me, I'm going to talk about the most awesome person I know: my husband.

A couple weeks ago, Ben informed me that our finances were hurting.  Not in a oh-my-gosh-we-can't-pay-our-rent-this-month- kind of hurt, but very very close.  To keep our wallets insulated, my husband picked up a second job.  He will now be working 70+ hours a week from here until Eternity (that's how it feels, anyway).  When I suggested that I find something part-time or full-time he firmly told me no.  My health was a major factor in his reasoning, as was my desire to stay-at-home with the kids.  In his words, "I want to let you be a mom."  I think I fell in love with him all over again.

This guy is amazing.  He will be returning from his last medical school interview later this evening only to be at church early tomorrow morning and back to work for 32 straight hours soon thereafter.  All because he knows we need the money and, in his mind, that is his responsibility.

If you aren't yet convinced, I can bet that tonight he will ly get up with the kids in order to give me a break.  Of course, I am crossing my fingers that Andrew's new pattern (as in, since his daddy left town) of getting up every few hours will be broken tonight.  And, he will offer to massage my shoulders, listen to my weepy feel-sorry-for-myself stories, and even comfort me.

How did I snag this guy?

On a much brighter note, he has been accepted to all the medical schools he interviewed at.  I am so proud of him.  We now have the luxury of choosing between a few schools rather than going to a school because it was the only one he got into.  (That sounds very haughty.  It isn't intended to be like that.)  Naturally, we will let the Spirit guide us as we make the final choice.

Clearly, Ben is the better half.

Seeing Beyond the Imperfections

I used to hide from the camera.  In my teen years, I didn't want to remember what I looked like.  In fact, I still feel that way.  Like most teens, I was insecure--about my acne, my weight, my smile, and everything else.  My measuring stick were my sisters.  They were and are beautiful.  In my mind, I could not compete to my dark haired beauty counterparts.

The struggle continued into my marriage.  But, like the famous Mahana (Mormon joke), my husband's continuous praise helped me see beyond the physical impurities and recognize my great potential.

Acceptance of my body has come in different stages.  The most important, for me, was accepting my face by no longer avoiding the camera.

Over the past few months,  I have obsessed about including myself in photos.  Not because I have some sense of impending doom,  but because I want my kids to have photographic proof that I was at certain events and that we did have fun together.

(The one catch,  Ben is not allowed to photograph me.  How do I put this...the photos he takes of me are not the most attractive.  Hey,  I have my dignity to maintain.)

Since I am alone with my kids much of the day,  I photograph us with the old-school style of holding the camera out and taking face shots.  That's right, face shots.   My fear of looking at my blemished face has disappeared.  This is for my kids anyway.

[caption id="attachment_942" align="aligncenter" width="500" caption="My sweet angel, Andrew"][/caption]

[caption id="attachment_941" align="aligncenter" width="500" caption="My gorgeous daughter, Emily"][/caption]

These kids? They make my life full.  Fuller than I could ever have imagined.

Since the miscarriage, I am often reminded to hold my two babies close. This is hard because the physical pain I am experiencing;  still, I hug and rock them constantly.

How can I possibly describe the indescribable?  My little Emily and Andrew are my life.  I say that unashamedly.  Sure I have myself outside of them, but right now that "self" seems so unnecessary.  Perhaps it was the miscarriages that helped me see my reality: Despite the challenges of being a mother, it is one of the best jobs I have and will ever hold.

I will also say, I am the best mother for them.  Yes I am.  No living person loves these two more than me.  Another person would not sing them personalized songs when they wake up from naps and in the morning or throw spontaneous dance parties when they wake up at midnight or miss them while they are sleeping.  I am their interpreter, teacher, cook, mediator, and, best of all, their mother.

In a short time they will be grown up.  The will no longer need me as much as now.  This doesn't make me sad, however, because I feel one of my greatest job responsibilities is raising them to be moral, industrious, conscientious adults. For now, though, they need me.  And I need them.

They see my face daily.  Not the face I crucially examine, but the perfect face of their beloved mother.

Just like I only see perfection in them.

I Am So Talented

One of the big themes I see over and over again in the blog world is balance.

Well, boy howdy, I have found the solution.

At least for me.

Go ahead and pat me on the back.

Oh, what is that? You want to know my secret?

My secret is simple:  husband found a new job in which he is working nights.  Brilliant,  really.

Now that he is no longer around to tempt me into spending time with him,  I have commandeered my nights and whipped them into cleaning action.  I wash dishes,  sweep and mop floors,  vacuum the messy carpet,  and wash, fold, and put away laundry.

I am like the super cleaning woman.

Whew.

I'm feeling tired just reading that!

All right, it isn't as hard as it sounds.  Considering we only live in 500 sq ft, the floors take like 10 minutes to clean; the laundry room shares space with our only bathroom; and it takes like 4 seconds to walk from room to room.  Living in a small space does have its advantages.

I have decided to ignore household chores and the internet while my kids are awake--otherwise known as taking long walks and playing in the park--so I use the four or five hours after they go to bed for my time.  My time to blog, write, and clean.

It's splendid really.

Except for the fact that my husband is gone and that I miss him greatly.

Sometimes, though, I choose to see the positives.

Like a clean house.

A Simple Walk

Five for Ten is still going strong!  Click on over to see what all the fuss is about.  The theme for today and tomorrow is "memory."

When we started dating, I didn't think it would last. I was too young, too immature.  You made me believe that we could be something more, something eternal.

After 6 months, we started talking marriage.  With butterflies in my stomach, I allowed the fantasy to ignite.  You held me entranced by the promise of forever, a future that I once thought impossible.

One Sunday, we took a walk.  We went down a street with familiar houses.  There was a particular one for sale, we stopped to grab the flier.  Within minutes we talked about what could be.  A house.  A family.  You.  Me.

I suggested an alternative--you quit the job you hate, go back to school, and we become starving college students just trying to get by.  You wistfully smile and allow yourself to think about that for a minute until reality hits.  You feel trapped by a job.

You gave me a ring with a question.  I answered, without hesitation, "Yes!"

The dream was within reach.

Months later we decided to break up.  You felt the need to embrace a higher calling for two years.  You wanted to give back to God what he gave to you.  You embarked on a mission.  Those two years would transform us--our relationship--into a force so powerful that we only wait 27 days from when you return to get married.

For two years we bickered.  We broke each other's hearts multiple times.  We learned to have faith and to trust.  In God.  In ourselves.  In us.

A culmination of 4 years together and we finally had our forever.  A covenant in a temple is said, our reflection in mirrors is looked at, and tears of joy are shed.

Almost 3 years into marriage and we remember that walk.  We are indeed poor students.  But we aren't starving.  We are full.  With life.  With children.  With each other.

You are pursuing your career of choice, I am living mine.

A simple memory, a fleeting fantasy, that is still unfolding.

Eternity.

And the Rest Is History, I Guess

In continuation of Momalom's Five for Ten series, today's topic is "Happiness."  Click on over to join the fun!

During the whole appendectomy episode,  Ben decided that he wanted to try a new educational/career path.  Being in the hospital reignited his dream of becoming a doctor.  Since his GPA was practically spotless, he was weary of smudging his record with the tyrannical science courses.  With my wholehearted support,  he decided he would give pre-med a one semester try.   If he felt confident after that first semester,  he would continue on until the next semester, and, after that, he would be set on medical school.  (See? I really do support him in his dreams! As long as they do not include becoming a career pilot.)

The first semester was rough.  Not only were we new parents, but we were both taking classes.  Plus, to put it mildly, Ben's classes were not easy.

When the semester was over, he managed to walk away with better grades than he expected.   He decided to continue.

Now, almost 2 years later, we have reached a point that was a mere speck in the horizon.

Yesterday, we received Ben's MCAT scores.

If I could fully relate how much we have both sacrificed to reach this point, I would.  I will tell you this--there have been many days, especially over this last semester, when I wouldn't see Ben until he stumbled into bed around 2 am.   I'm not just referring to the weekdays.  I mean Monday-Saturday.  (Sunday was our sacred family time.) It was difficult.  Parenting two little babies by myself, especially when my husband is only a couple miles away, was harder than I anticipated.  I wrote many disparaging posts (which I may just delete) and cried more than I care to admit, but I tried my best to support my husband through it all.  It helped to know that he was struggling as well.  I mean, he had to study and actually take the test.  I only had to blubber about solo parenting.  Besides, he loves his children more than I can describe.  He would have given anything to be with them.

So.  April 10th came and Ben took the test.  When finished it did nothing to alleviate our anxiety.  For all we knew, he would be taking it again (because he likely did not do well enough) after he found out his score.

The kids and I may have seen Ben more this last month, but the tension was still palpable; the nights still sleepless.

Fast forward to yesterday.  The scores were scheduled to come out at some point during the day.  While Ben tried to work and I tried to, um, tend to the kids (meaning read all the delightful Five for Ten posts), we couldn't help but look at the website every ten seconds.

Finally, a little after 1:00, I received the call I had been expecting.  I answered the phone with a hurried--"Was it good??" To which my husband replied, "Yes!"

Pure happiness.

For inquiring minds,  knowing the score is the first step.  We will now be applying to different medical schools and starting the interviewing process sometime in September.  In some ways, I never thought this day would come.  I was sure we would be stuck in undergraduate education forever.  I am glad that this theory proved to be untrue.

Dear 23-Year-Old Self,

Yes, I am finally back on-line.  It will take me forever to get caught up but so life goes.  While disconnected, I was thinking about this blog and realized I did not write myself a birthday letter; thus, this post's inception.

Remember those goals you wrote when you were 12?  The sheet was short and simple--something like this (in no particular order).

• Marry a worthy returned missionary in the temple.


• Graduate from college.


• Become a mom.

The goal you hoped most to achieve was motherhood.  You had no idea when that would come to pass and marriage seemed like a fleeting fancy, something that happened to those who were beautiful and witty, characteristics you (falsely) believed you lacked.

Yet, here you are at 23.  You have achieved those goals.  You are a college graduate--the first in your immediate family. You have married an incredible man who is everything you hoped he would be and more.  You have two beautiful children that bring unsolicited smiles frequently.

Motherhood was harder than you expected.  With school, you knew what was needed to receive that "A."  With parenting, there is no syllabus with its accompanying assignment sheet.  You can't check Blackboard for your grades.  There is no professor to explain difficult concepts.  So, the next time you envision that imaginary audience who groans and shakes their heads at your mistakes, remember that there is no imaginary audience.  When you make a mistake, it is okay.  Grow from your mistakes, don't dwell on them.  When you do have a question, ask your friends.  You are surrounded by experienced parents who would not think you are a failure for asking.

Please forsake those insecurities that tie you down.  You are not the awkward teenager who once lived in her older sister's shadow.  You are beautiful, vivacious, and benevolent.  You have a husband who would slay dragons for you.  You have a daughter and son who instantly forgive your shortcomings.  You have accomplished all the goals you once set for yourself.

People do not look down on you because of your choice to become a stay-at-home mom.  Stop using your education as a snobby reminder that you could have done more with your life.  This is your dream!  Even if someone thinks less of you, it is your choice to believe it or ignore it.   Instead of "if onlys" become the best mom you can possibly be.

Replace your doubt with trust.  You know what is best for you and your family.

Above all, trust your husband.  Trust your friends.  Trust your parents.  Trust your Savior.  Embrace forgiveness--of others and of self.  Hold fast to the truth that has constantly guided you.

Love always,

Me

Smiling the Arguments Away (Maybe Not Away...)

Yesterday Ben and I got into an argument.  Right as things started getting heated, I felt the urge.  I tried to bite it back, not wanting Ben to feel patronized, but it came:  my goofy grin.

Naturally, it ticked Ben off.  He went to the kitchen to cool off while I went to our bedroom to get rid of that dang smile.  Within a few minutes we were sitting on the couch having a more civil discussion.  Later that evening, we giggled over the whole event.

I am happy to admit that I am not the only one who does this.  Ben also smiles when things get tense.  When I see him smile, I start to smile and then we both end up in fits of laughter on the couch.

Really, the worst time to smile is right in the middle of an argument, right? I don't think so.  That is, I don't think Gottman thinks so.

Disclaimer: If you didn't know this already, I am a big fan of Gottman.  When I think about marriage relationships, his research is generally at the forefront of my mind.  He is like my shoulder angel (in marriage, that is).

In his research, Gottman was able to quantify his observations and turn them into a mathematical model.  One of the fascinating results he found was the magical 5 to 1 ratio.   Happily married couples generally have five positive interactions to one negative interaction.  When a couple consistently dips below that magical number (meaning more negative than positive interactions) they are in danger.

Keeping this in mind reminds me that Ben and I have a built-in safety monitor in our relationship.  Neither of us enjoys conflict--especially with each other; thus, when our arguments are getting out of hand, we turn to our safety net: humor.

Ben's responsibilities plus my responsibilities are very overwhelming.  What keeps our relationship strong is our ability to laugh.  This doesn't mean we don't tackle the tough issues, it means that we can approach those issues without either of us becoming too defensive.  At least most of the time.

I think next time, though, I will try to hold my goofy grin in until after the serious part is over.

All Things Aside, I Think I Have It Easy

My brain is whirring from all the thoughts that are being produced.  Its noises keep me awake and wake me up.

I dream about cranial nerves, heart tissue, blood characteristics, and components of the Central Nervous System.  I am haunted by exams, papers, and due dates that I have missed.

In case you're wondering, I am not in school.  These strange dreams and clogged processes are the product of my husband's stress.  See, he has asked that I help him study this week.  That means that I can't blame my kids for my late nights.  No, this week I entirely blame my husband.

I'm not complaining, though, because I have it easy.  I may stay up late quizzing him, but he must take the exams and write the papers.  He also must stay up later (or all night) to complete his various assignments.

Between helping him at night, preparing meals, keeping little toddlers occupied, and nursing a growing boy, my days are quite cluttered.  I may not get around to each of your blogs daily, but I will catch you here and there.

Until then, be grateful that you aren't preparing for medical school.  I know I am.

Who Gets Up With the Baby?

Before we were married, Ben and I had a long discussion about division of household chores.  He suggested, and I agreed, that if he works full-time, I would also work full-time doing the household chores.  When he came home, we would share the remainder of the tasks.

This worked well.  In the beginning, we both worked part-time and attended school full-time and shared the household chores.

After we had Emily, things changed.  I quit working but continued to attend school full-time.  It seemed natural that I would take care of the household chores.

After a couple of months, we realized we needed to re-evaluate this division.  It was nearly impossible for me to take care of a colicky baby, finish homework, and stay on top of meals, dishes, and laundry.  Thus, Ben began cooking and cleaning more.  I focused on the laundry.  It worked rather well.

Breaking up household tasks was easy.  Breaking up who gets up with the baby was harder, is still hard.

With Emily, Ben and I would both get up.  He would change the diapers, I would take care of the feedings (obviously).  It was an arrangement that worked quite well.

When Andrew arrived, things changed.  I was no longer juggling school and mothering.  I became a fully certified stay-at-home mom.  Ben, though, is busier.  Between 4 part-time jobs (equaling about 20-25 hours per week total), 16-17 credits of pre-med courses, and MCAT studying, his time is limited.  He stays up later than me and usually gets up earlier than me.  It seemed logical, in my mind, that he forgo night time duties.  I didn't explain this shift to him, I just stopped waking him up at night.

A week or so ago, I explained to Ben that Andrew would probably sleep longer through the night if I would get up to change him rather than just allowing him to find comfort in eating.  I just don't want to deal with getting up and changing him.  So, because of my laziness, I am actually getting less sleep. Ben reminded me that he can also help.  If I give him Andrew, he would be happy to change him.  Yet, it seems illogical that both of us lose sleep.  I figure that since I am home all day, I should solely handle Andrew at night.

My question for you is this.  Should I include Ben in night time tasks if he is already getting less sleep than I am?  If yes, how can I do this without burdening him even more?

Alternatively, any advice on kicking my lazy habit of not changing Andrew's diaper in the middle of the night? That is probably more pressing.

Thank you, in advance, for any advice you share.

I Can't Stop Smiling!

I am giddy.  So giddy that I can't hold still.  I am fluttering around like a butterfly, hopping from my husband's lap to the computer chair to the kitchen, with an unexplainable energy.

I'm sure it has something to do with this guy



this girl



and one amazing husband.



I think so.

Just  ignore the wings that suddenly sprouted from my back.

Sometimes Cleanliness Is Not Required for Happiness

This morning I woke up to Manly's hungry cries.  I took him out, changed him, and rocked him, hoping he would fall back asleep.

I guess not.

This morning I held Manly as I worked out.  He giggled, I smiled, we had fun.

Working out is a lot harder while holding a chub-a-lub.  Maybe that's a good thing.

This morning I fed the Queen breakfast.  She ate all her cereal and promptly poured the milk all over the table.

Great, now the table's messy.

This morning, the Queen emptied out all her toys, the desk drawers, the bookshelf, the kitchen cabinets, and 2 water bottles.  She had fun.

I wonder if this house can get any messier?

This afternoon, I took the Queen and Manly on a long walk.  They fell asleep to the rhythmic bouncing of the stroller.  I pondered the mysteries of the universe while enjoying the lovely weather.

I wonder if we will have a drought this summer because of the lack of snow?  Oh, look at that mom and her cute baby!  It sure is peaceful out here. I think I should do this more often.

This afternoon, I nursed Manly to sleep and unintentionally fell asleep myself.

I should get up and......

This afternoon, I washed the dishes as the Queen emptied out the cupboards I had just rearranged.

Perhaps I should start cleaning after she goes to bed.

This evening, I made delicious dinner, messing up the clean kitchen.

Oh, well.  Entropy is a scientific fact--the proof is in my apartment.

This evening, after the kids went to bed, Mr. B cleaned the house for me.

I love this man!

Today, routines were broken and new routines decided upon.  Today my house was messy and cleaned again. (And again and again....)  Today I was frustrated and close to tears, looking at my messy house.

Then I read Becca's thoughts on routines.  I laughed at her familiar examples and cried over poignant description of broken routines.  I recognized that I am not alone in my frustrations.  And I smiled.

Yes, the Queen has refused to take a nap for 3 days straight.  I have been pulling my hair out!

Tonight, I can't stop smiling.  Even though Manly has cried on and off for the past 2 hours, refusing to sleep, I try to remember that it will not always be this way.  Soon, he and the Queen will be too big to fit on my lap.  I will fondly remember this time.

I will look back with gladness,  happy that I made the most of this time.

Love Letter to Mr. B; Reader Be Warned--It Is Mushy

To my darling Mr. B:

You were head over heels in love with me before we started dating.  You knew we would eventually marry.  I was young, immature, and reticent to absolve all future potential endeavors of love.  My thinking was rational but love had a different idea.  I felt the first inkling one night,  a few months into dating you.   You may remember this night,  it was the first time you sang to me.

You stopped the car by my front door,  grabbed my hand before I could open the door,  and told me you had a present for me.

You grabbed a CD, put it into your CD player,  pressed skip until you found the song you were looking for.  I breathlessly waited,  wondering what you had in store.  When I heard the first bar,  I recognized the melody.  While caressing my hand,  you sang,  in your melodious tenor,  our song,  our first song:  "How Forever Feels."  I was entranced.

A year later,  I forlornly waved good-bye as you embarked on a 2 year mission in the service of our Lord and Savior.   I was soon packing my own bags to head to college.

In your absence, I devoted millions of tears to your memory.  That first year   I only listened to upbeat music devoid of any love references.  I thrust your presence from my mind.

Yet,  my body and spirit ached for our reunion.

When you had 6 months left,  I turned on our songs again.  I still couldn't bear to listen to our first song,  so I listened to one  song that brightened my life: Here's to the Night.  Yes, I cried but I was drawn to this song like a moth to open fire.  It brought peace and anguish.  Most of all, it brought love to my thirsty soul.

When you came home,  we resumed our plans for marriage.  We felt no need to postpone the inevitable so we arranged for a quiet, private ceremony to be held a few weeks thence.

Do you remember taking my hand,  leading me to the dance floor,  and holding my body close as we danced to our wedding song?  Do you remember singing along with Clint Black's crooning voice,

When I said I do,  I meant that I will 'til the end of all time

Be faithful and true,  devoted to you

That's what I had in mind,  when I said I do

Do you remember kissing my neck whispering in my ear how much you loved me?

I do.  I still tremble when thinking about your sweet touch that first night.

Here we are,  two years and two kids later.  Since our lives are busy with the preoccupations that accompany "the real world" and parenting,  we have turned to a song with sultry lyrics.  A song that arouses passion while capturing the muted tones representing our love.

We have turned to The Closer I Get To You.



Mr. B, I love you more now than I did when we were first married.

Happy Valentine's Day.

Love,

Your Eternal Wife

This is part of Momalom's Love It Up challenge as well as Chocolate on My Cranium's Wordfull Wednesday: Love Songs .

Talking, Sharing, and Serving: Three Things I Love About My Marriage

I will celebrate my third year of marriage in July.  "Three years ?!?!" you exclaim.  "Why, you are only a toddler in marriage years!"  I know.

This may be true, yet I feel as if we have been married forever.  Those years when we weren't together are a bit blurred.  Perhaps it is because we dated for so long.  (And when I was a rather young age.)  Or, maybe, it is because we have two kids babies.  Whatever the reason, I feel like a seasoned wife.

There are some aspects in my seasoned marriage that I really appreciate. Things that I hope to continue.

Talking

While we were dating, Mr. B pointed out my very hurtful habit of shutting off when I am upset.  This habit still haunts me, it is a constant battle.  Trial by trial, I am struggling to ignore my first inclination, to turn to stone on the outside (better known as stonewalling), and do as Mr. B has taught--talk it through.

This can be rough.  Talking usually involves an uncomfortable subject.  Something that needs to be changed, something that I don't want to change (at least on the inside).

Our talking has evolved with our marriage. Right now, face-to-face discussions are nearly impossible (unless we want to stay up until 2 am) (not likely).  To solve this potential stumbling block,  we have turned to modern technology: Google Chat. This has not only provided us with instant communication, but has also enabled me to better confront whatever fear is encouraging my stonewalling.

For instance,  I am in need of some serious time management coaching.  In a recent conversation (via Goggle Chat), I asked for some advice.  He, in return, asked me how I spend my time.  I instantly became defensive and began building up my walls.  Until I remembered that I had asked for his help in the first place!  Once that thought pierced my thick skull,  I tore those walls down.  I became receptive to Mr B's suggestions.

Sharing

I am very proud of Mr B.  He is proud of me.  We enjoy sharing our accomplishments.  When I graduated, Mr B threw me an awesome graduation party.  I had some cool cake, yummy food, and pleasant company.  He was truly happy for me.

When Mr B  recently received high honors for his superior grades, I not only smiled but looked for a way to celebrate with him.  We went out to his favorite restaurant.  I tried to show him how happy I was for the reward he deserved. Really, his wins are my wins.

Because we share this part of our world together,  I feel closer to him.  I know that when I have a good day, I can expect a nice hug and smile.  I also know that when my day goes awry, I have a shoulder/back rub to look forward to.

Serving

The best piece of advice I received before we married was to selflessly serve your spouse everyday.    Seeing as how I am lazy, being selfless doesn't exactly come naturally.  But, as I have struggled against my natural urgings of selfishness, I have found something wonderful: happiness.

When I make the bed, clean the kitchen, keep up on the laundry, and tidy up the living room, I am greeted with a hearty "Thanks!" when Mr B comes home from a long, tough day.  The gratitude is not my only reason for selfless service, it is the love that I am constantly gaining for my husband.  See, it is hard to be angry toward someone that you serve.  This is true.  If you don't believe me, try it.

Now, don't you go thinking that I only serve in our relationship, because you would be wrong.  Dead wrong.  I would have to say that Mr B does most of the serving around here.  When I am having a hard day, he will come home and pick up for me.  When he knows I am feeling down or sick, he will pick up dinner.  He does those tasks that I shy away from, like bath time at night.  He gets the house looking shiny on the weekends.  Most importantly, he takes care of my emotional and mental needs.  He lends a listening ear at 2 am.  He provides mental stimulation, through conversations, at night.  He heaps charming accolades upon my achievements.  Even if they are undeserving.

As we talk, share, and serve, our marriage matures.  It becomes less wistful and more stable.  It becomes more Eternal.

This is part of Chocolate on my Cranium's weekly Wordfull Wednesday challenge. Check out her blog to find other entries!