There’s a poem I came across quite a long while ago that seemed to really resonate with the people I’d shared it with.  I don’t know where it originated, or who wrote it- but it’s lovely and uplifting.  I’m choosing to share it here now, because times are tough for a lot of folks.  Lives are ending, marriages dissolving, homes foreclosing, jobs being lost, and many other trials in between.  It’s important not to lose hope, because it will pass.  Just as other difficult times have.  So this post is for everyone going through something difficult, including myself and my family.

As many times as you’ve been down and out, tears falling from your eyes, and grappling with the harsh realities that have befallen you with heart heavy in chest, you made it through.  Recall the occasions that came next.  After the tears have dried, and the pain diminished, came laughter, smiles and hope.  Brighter days followed, whether it was soon after, or a long time coming.  It got better. 

No matter what sadness, hurt, disappointment, anguish, anxiety, or stress you felt- none of it lasted.  Time moves on, and with it comes light and happiness.  The birth of children, the mending of relations, and opportunity of new jobs, new loves, new friends, new homes, new happy experiences and memories…

New lives evolve out of the situations we endure and conquer.

You grow from the adversity you experience.  Insight is gained, maturity honed, lessons learned.  In the end, everything is A. Okay. Even if it's difficult to believe right now at this moment you find yourself in. 

Here’s a lovely, rhyming reminder of just that:

Don't You Quit

When things go wrong, as they sometimes will,

When the road you're trudging seems all uphill,

When the funds are low and the debts are high,

And you want to smile, but you have to sigh,

When care is pressing you down a bit-

Rest if you must, but don't you quit.

Life is queer with its twists and turns,

As every one of us sometimes learns,

And many a fellow turns about

When he might have won had he stuck it out.

Don't give up though the pace seems slow -

You may succeed with another blow.

Often the goal is nearer than

It seems to a faint and faltering man;

Often the struggler has given up

When he might have captured the victor's cup;

And he learned too late when the night came down,

How close he was to the golden crown.

Success is failure turned inside out -

The silver tint in the clouds of doubt,

And you never can tell how close you are,

It might be near when it seems afar;

So stick to the fight when you're hardest hit -

It's when things seem worst that you must not quit.

Me and my Three Pairs of Blue

Today I'm posting a Poem about the three loves of my life: My husband and our two sons.

I wrote this quite a while back- (Friday, January 30, 2009 at 1:50am to be exact).

 

I've been especially sentimental and emotional lately.  My youngest just turned the ripe old age of four.  His bother, also four, will be the Big 5 Years Old next month.  I can remember things about my own fifth birthday.  That means, he's most definitely not a baby any longer.  He'll have actual, legitimate memories of this time in his life now.  He's a full fledged, impressively functioning, human being (as is his wiser-than-his-years little bro). 

 

With the changing of Summer to Fall, I always feel a bittersweet ache in my heart.  It's the time of year that brings with it the most family-centered holidays, and it's also the time of year my first niece was born.  A year later, my own first child was born, and the following year- my second.  To sum it up:  I turn into one big emotional mush ball each Autumn.

 

It's a reminder of such truly magnificent times in my life.  But it's also a very pivotal reminder of how quickly time is passing by.  A part of me wishes time would slow, just a bit.  There are all of these mini-milestones taking place nowadays that are proving much harder to accept than I would have thought.  Just yesterday, I gave myself a minor heart attack when my firstborn rode on a school bus for the very first to his very first field trip.  It was so fascinating and wonderful for him to experience.  I was ecstatic for him.  Truly.  But for me, it involved a sleepless night before, and terrible chest and stomach pains the day of.  I tortured myself with visions of him wondering off in a pumpkin patch somewhere and not making it back, or of an accident happening in the extreme fog we experienced yesterday morning with this stranger school bus driver and the dimwits on the road without headlights on.  The worry was so physically exhausting that I felt fatigued in a way I was not accustomed to.  Afterwards I couldn't squeeze and kiss the boy enough.  The relief that washed over me cannot be described in words, the moment I saw his bright smiling face come around that corner at Pre-K yesterday afternoon.  No one drives my babies.  No one baby sits my babies (other than my mom, really...).  It's me and them.  For all of their lives.  Things like this field trip are all foreshadowing what's to come.  The boys will continue to take more and more steps away from me, with their own two feet.  I'm so proud of them, and their independent nature.  But I cannot help my need to be there with them... for them....  It's such a struggle to put my trust in others that they're looking out for my children when I'm not there.  I'm now understanding why so many mothers opt to go on Xanex.

 

Another reason I become so emotional (and sad) is that I desire incredibly to have more children, although like many others in our current economy, our situation doesn't allow for it.  And the older the boys get, the further away we get from the idea of adding more siblings to our brood.  I do not wish to have children eight or ten years apart.  The family I envisioned would be close, and "grow up" together in the same household.  If money were no issue, I'd have had another child by now.  It saddens me.  I wonder when that will end.

 

Don't get me wrong, I'm more than content with these two angels.  I simply just love being a mom, and I want for them to have a large support system of siblings to share their lives with.  I dream of being surrounded by all of my children and grandchildren in my senior years, with a home filled with love constantly multiplying and laughter pouring out through the windows.  I struggle with "quality over quantity" in terms of what we can afford to give them in life, and what they'll have to sacrafice if we were to add another child to the family.  Afterall, there are already tons of experiences John and I wish to provide them with that we're unable to.  Private school being number one on our list.

 

For now, it's just me, my beloved John and our two perfect boys.  And today, I'm counting every single blessing they continue to bring me.  I just adore the hell out of them!

 

 

Three Pairs of Blue

Three pairs of two
The most beautiful I’ve ever seen
Each a different shade of blue
Not brown, hazel, or green

The windows to each one’s soul
So I’ve heard my whole life
Two pairs to mother and mold
To the third, a supportive wife

The depth and the beauty of each pair’s hue
One tip of the iceberg to what lies inside
Of each magnificently unique pair of blue
For which I hold the utmost of pride

All six eyes of blue twinkle, dance and shine
I’m so fortunate to look into them each day
Beyond lucky am I that those blue eyes are mine
Making life more spectacular in every way

Those three pairs of blue make each smile more bright
And each teardrop more deeply felt
They brighten up a dreary day, and light up the darkest night
And with just a mere glance from them, I melt

The first pair grabbed me at my first look
With intensity and flirtatiousness I won’t soon forget
First my attention, then my heart those eyes took
Giving me a feeling of intrigue the moment we met

The second pair came on a December afternoon
And was like seeing love for the very first time
My joyful emotions filled up the room
His blurry, blue newborn eyes seemed to chime

In the middle of the night last Autumn
I met the third pair so big and brand new
Glaring up at me, yet another blue-eyed son
Speaking to me, “Mama, I love you.”

Three pairs of blue to cherish and love
They give me hope, strength and meaning so true
Together our family fits like a glove
Me, and my three pairs of blue.

 

 

Female Bonding over Self-Berating

During a phone call with a gal pal of mine, she said these very words:  “I’m beautiful.  I’m gorgeous, and I know I’m f*cking gorgeous.”  I laughed hysterically!  I couldn't even stop myself.  For the longest time I just laughed and laughed.  Then I quickly explained that I wasn’t laughing because I disagreed and thought that she’s truly buttass fugly.  Rather, I explained, that I laughed because I was just so completely caught off guard.  I never hear women talk themselves up in this way.  The way she said it, with such assuredness, and so candidly and straightforward as if she were stating that the sky is blue or was speaking of the weather outside, was really… truly….something.  It just doesn’t happen.  Here in the real world, I mean.  I'm not talking on reality TV or anything, with those girls who dramatically talk to the camera about how jealous their frenemies are of their beauty, their money, their men. 

I’ve written before about the things I’m learning along the way in this silly thing called life.  Well, one of those things I’ve learned is that it is very uncommon for the female community to actively compliment ourselves, or to easily accept compliments from our counterparts.  On the other hand, I’ve become increasingly aware of the fact that men DO.  My guy will be the first person to tell you all about his latest accomplishment.  I've seen him in action.  And I've seen many other men act the same.  So this clearly is a female issue. 

I do it all the time.  Like many other females, I’m my own worst critic.  And I can dish it out, but I can’t take it: Compliments, that is.  “You look like great!  Looks like you’ve lost weight, too”, someone will say.  My likely response: “Oh, no I don’t.  I haven’t washed my hair in two days, I’ve got a new zit on my chin, and I just downed four cookies before you got here.”  OK.  First lesson, not everyone needs to know EVERYTHING.  (Whoops- Wait, why am I blogging again, then?)  And second, yeah I actually have been eating better in general and hitting the gym.  So why couldn’t I just take the damn compliment and been proud of my minor accomplishment.  In trying to dissect why it is I don’t just accept the kind words with humble open arms, I’ve come up with a few reasons why this scenario typically goes down the way it does.

I somehow twistedly believe that in agreeing with the individual doing the complimenting, I’m being self involved and narcissistic.  As in, “Yes, I DO look awesome.  Thank you so much for noticing!”  Ick.  Secondly, I’d feel obligated to give a “thank you compliment”, as in “Why, thank you.  You look great, too!”  Two problemos with this reaction: First, it seems entirely insincere to give a compliment after someone else has given you one.  It comes across as what it is: a compliment only garnered by having received one.  And that seems terribly inauthentic.  I don’t like fake.  So coming off as a fake isn’t a trait I’d like to portray.  But, alright, say that a little white lie to be cordial and make the chick feel good isn’t such a bad thing.  I guess it’s not so terrible.  However, what if that person quite literally looks like crap?  Then I’d not only be a fake with my false nicey-nice “thank you compliment”, but I’d be a flat out liar.  It’d be incredibly difficult for me to accept a compliment without feeling a responsibility to return the kindness, and if the person’s gained 15 pounds, has dandruff flakes showing in her hair, spinach in her teeth, and frumpy clothing on during this “Compliment Encounter”, how in the world could I find one flattering thing to say to her?  It’s then that I’d grasp for straws, and hope to god that she’d at least had some nice smelling perfume spray that she’d thought to spritz on.  Then I could say, “And what about you, lady?  You smell lovely.”  But that’s certainly a stretch, of course.

More seriously, this mingling and unifying over our insecurities and downfalls is actually quite disturbing.  It’s far more common to hear us putting our negatives on display when in the presence of other females than it ever is to hear us bragging about our accolades.  There are a million and one situations I can recall in which my visits with fellow women consisted of a comparison of negatives in our lives.  We quite literally bond over them.  “My husband never puts his dirty clothes in the Hamper!”  (Mine, either!)  “Oh, my hair is so horrible I can’t do a thing with it, ever!” (Same here!  Look at this frizz, and these roots.  They’re a stylist’s worst nightmare.)  There’s not much off limits.  I hear the comparison of how wretched the children can be, how hefty the bills are, how argumentative the marriages are, how dire the struggles with weight are.  It’s pretty endless.  And on the rare occasion that a female does like to talk about the positives in her life, we other gals label her as a “bragger”.  What a completely twisted point of view the majority of us females tend to share. 

This self berating appears to begin at a very early age for females.  School girls quickly discover that by sharing our downfalls with others in our class, we form friendships.  We’re sympathetic to one another.  That nurturer in us feeds into the whole “You’re not alone” idea, and we demonstrate our loyalty partially through empathy for one another.  It’s a trait that binds.  Of course, I’m certain it’s not all conjured up.  Girls naturally have many issues with acceptance of themselves and their bodies, due largely in part to overwhelming media images.  But that’s a blog of a different sort.

If you’re a female, you’ve likely experienced these interactions yourself.  It’s almost as if we’re afraid to sound braggy and bitchy if we exclaim how happy we are with ourselves in one way or another.  Not only is this unquestionably unhealthy for female kind to continue on with the self defamation, but we’re teaching the up and coming female generations our ghastly ways as well. 

I often hear other women speak of how we should be lifting one another up instead of attempting to tear one another down.  But how can we do that, when we rarely work to lift ourselves up?  If we’re not thinking highly enough of ourselves to accept just compliments where compliments are due, share our happiness and good fortunes, and to proudly wear our accomplishments and strengths on our sleeves with each other, why in the world would we sincerely do as much for a fellow femme?

So, I’ll vow now to make a change. 

I’ll put out there that things are going pretty great around my way.  (BTW, this is a good reminder for me to be grateful, because today was kind of rough up until a little bit ago- with me losing sight of all I’ve got and focusing on the negatives.) 

Some good stuff I'd normally not broadcast:  My husband received a substantial raise and promotion recently, and is furthering his education once more in a career he’s desired to be in for some time.  Great news for him and especially for our family!  And this job switch is all at the expense of his employer.  Sure he’s a little grumpier and more tired at times with all he’s taken on at work, and I miss him lots, but it’s a true blue blessing of pretty epic proportions in our eyes.  Also, both of our boys are striving in their first year of preschool and pre-k, and the blessings of finding this wonderful school they’re in is not lost on me.  Each and every time I walk through those doors to drop them off, or pick them up, I’m reminded of how fortunate we are to be able to afford this great and loving environment that nurtures and educates our children.  I've joined a gym, and have been getting healthier and feeling better.  The hubs just signed up himself last night too.  A definite positive.  Some other stuff.... Since beginning couples therapy a year ago this month, John and I are the closest and most communicative we’ve ever been with one another.  Extended family issues are mended and progressing, and the time we spend with our loved ones is priceless.  Both of our children will be four years old soon.  Our youngest boy will celebrate his fourth birthday this Sunday.  And next month, just before Christmas, his older brother will turn five.  The holidays are upon us, and we’re looking forward to celebrating with all of the people we hold dearest.  All good things!  Sure there are a number of things that could always be better…. But they can always be far, far worse too.  I’m lucky, and pretty darn happy, I don’t feel the need to pretend otherwise.

So go ahead, compliment me the next time I see you.  ;-)   I’m ready for it!



Our Halloweens, Past & Present ☺

And if you want a reminder of just how quickly change happens all around you, just take a look at children....

This is Halloween 3 short years ago... My little Lion and Scarecrow in our ensemble of the Wizard of OZ. 

(Yes, that's me in the background, Dorothy.  And no, that was not a wig- but my Real Hair.  I went through a red phase...  Shouldn't every gal? 

My Tin Man Husband was busy painting his face Silver in the bathroom, and this shot was taken pre the crying and screaming that his scary face caused in the children.  They had no idea who he was and in turn suffered frightened meltdowns before heading out to Trick-or-Treat.)

 



Halloween 2009:

We were each an element that makes up a S'more...

Our Marshmallow...

& Our Chocolate Bar.... 

(And you can assume that my husband and I were each Graham Crackers.  So sorry we have no family pics on our laptop files...  as they were taken my my mother with her own camera.)

This is them as a Vampire and a Pirate from the same year, for their aunt's Halloween Bash....

Finally, last year they broke away from our "Family Ensemble" and chose their costumes based off of what they found most interesting in a Walmart aisle....

The Magician and his Bunny Rabbit. 

(A little too big to be pulled out of the hat, but cute as a bunny just the same. ;-)  You should see the view from the back, his tail was the cutest part!)

And this year, Halloween 2011, the kids will dress up as their favorite super heroes.  (And Dad and Mom will join in on the fun again, as the villains!):

Our Brave Spiderman and Batman.... 

I will dress as (a very less sexy) Cat Woman-think kitty ears, a tail and drawn on whiskers with black sweats.  And my hubs will dress up as The Joker.

Even our new pooch will join in on the fun this year...

Super Dog Rocky, at your service!!!

Hard to believe these are the same kids...  they grow so fast.  And each Halloween comes around more quickly than the last!

So cherish every moment- the pumpkin pickin' and carving.  The dressing up.  The decorated spooky treats, and rooms.... Knocking on cheerful neighbors' doors. Bonfires (with S'mores, of course!).  The Halloween movies, scary music, and sugar highs!  The whole nine yards!  These are memories that both kids and their parents alike will recall and cherish for years to come. ♥

*Added:

The family photos on our buffet table.

At least you get a sense of how big and scary the Tin Man was for these little kids.  :)

Let's Get Back to Meaningful Conversations

When did we become a generation of people who shies away from having serious discussions?  I’ve got a hunch I’m not the only one who has noticed this growing trend of folks steering clear of any topic they think could potentially turn ugly.  I find myself wondering more and more often why this is, and if it’s everywhere or just here in my small state of Delaware. 

Whenever I try to speak about say political, spiritual or religious beliefs with family or friends, the overwhelming majority either doesn’t want to touch the topic with a ten foot pole or they immediately go on the defense.  I’m not someone who goes around perpetually seeking out this kind of conversation.  It’s just that it sometimes come up.  A news story may come onto the television, an article on religious wars is featured on the cover of a magazine, the new political election season or something to this effect will come up in some way, shape or form.  And when I comment on it, or ask the views of the person I am with, I usually get the same reaction.  An uncomfortable expression takes over their faces.  They either flat out state that they don’t want to have the conversation or they take on an automatic argumentative tone if they feel I’m not coming from the viewpoint that they are.  Sometimes, in rare instances, I’ll hear an opinion but it’s rarely ever backed with an explanation or facts, which I find equally irritating.  And now with more corruption in our religious institutions, with a plethora of new political campaigns being launched, and an endless supply of thought provoking news stories on a wide range of topics all right at each of our fingertips, why are we reduced to “small talk”.   Why can’t we intellectually discuss controversial issues anymore? 

I know there is a time and a place for everything, but the question of when that time is and that place is begs to be answered.  Do we need to schedule meetings with one another to talk about thoughtful and social issues, on such and such a date, and at an agreed upon time?  That would just never happen.  I believe the fact that we can generally only converse about “safe subjects” with those in our families and in our social circles is incredibly damaging to our society.  But I’m reduced to discussing the “safe” things with them all out of fear of a falling out, and hard feelings taking place.  And, quite frankly, because almost no one wishes to ever have these discussions.

I see that these important discussions often take place on the Internet, where people feel comfortable expressing their true opinions from the safety of their anonymous computer screens.  That’s great that important issues are being discussed in different forums online, however; it’s online where it tends to go down in a seriously less ethical way.  Perhaps the words “humane”, “fair”, and “mature” could all be equally interchangeable with “ethical”.  It’s on the Internet that many individuals turn to nasty remarks; mean-spirited posts and hatred fueled discussions ensue.  These discussions lack merit in the end, because instead of sticking to facts and being civil, there’s always those “trolls” who sling figurative mud at the others whom disagree with them.  I’d love to see these conversations taking place face to face, in a civil manner, with people we actually know, love, and socialize with regularly.  Especially intriguing, is when you can talk to another person who believes completely opposite of what you do.  So I can’t help but wonder:  Why can’t we all just “agree to disagree” as the cliché goes?  I’m asking myself more and more, “Where’s the passion!?”  Sure I hear the same griping about how our politicians could do better, be better, how there are no jobs, how inflation has gone through the roof, the housing market is corrupt and unjust.  But show me the thought process behind how you feel things could be made better!



Maybe it is just me.  I like a good debate.  Challenge me on my thoughts.  Make me question my beliefs.  I’ll either come away from it clinging more strongly to them, or I’ll be enlightened by the other side of the argument.  Only, that’s just it: these conversations need not be actual arguments.  I know I can’t be the only one who’s noticed a growing trend in people feeling personally attacked if you question why they feel the way they do.  The reality of it is, not everyone agrees with everything you think and believe in.  And I’m beginning to feel like the minority because I truly believe that’s a wonderful thing.  The fact that there are so many different people in this world keeps things interesting and keeps us as a people progressing.  I strongly believed in what Barack Obama and Joe Biden stood for in the last presidential election, and I had no qualms about broadcasting that.  An email conversation back in 2008 regarding the candidates running for office and their platforms took place among several individuals with different political beliefs during that time, and sadly it quickly went south because not everyone could respectfully disagree.  It’s very frustrating when people cannot remain calm, cool and collected (or at least refrain from insults and personal digs) during these debates of ideas.  Personally, I can still like you even if I think your opinion on the Jobs Bill is ridiculous, or if your ridicule of our Commander in Chief seems unfounded.  You can believe in a god that I find baffling, practice Judaism, Voodoo, Christianity, or be a Hippie Child, and as long as you are authentic, good natured and friendly I will judge you solely on your core.  Likewise, your view point on the immigration laws or the Wall Street Stand In may completely differ from mine, yet I will still show you respect and hear your thoughts without slandering you.  I may still question your decisions and feelings on these topics, but that only means I find interest in people and their behavior and because I’m curious as to why we people do the things we do and believe in the things we choose to believe in. 

I’ve been told, “I don’t want to have this conversation” when I casually bring up an article I read on Christianity, with a close relative.  I read constantly on social networking sites, statements such as “There are certain things that should never be discussed, like religion and politics” by friends of mine, and their friends.  I also see many poorly thought out responses made on these social networking pages to postings about one’s personal beliefs, instead of a thoughtful and respectful reply.  It’s infuriating for me to see. 

My own sister told me a few years ago that she thought I was an “extremist” because I called up my state representative and let my opinion be heard on an upcoming piece of legislation.  Why are regular folks being labeled as extreme when they show passion for something more than their immediate families?  Since when did it become over-the-top to demonstrate interest in more than shopping, media and celebrities, and our kids’ little league games?  And is there anyone else who feels the way I do about the lack of conversations taking place about the more profound and important issues in life?



If we all ceased to have these types of conversations, what will happen to our future?  If religion and politics and everything in between had never been discussed in the past, and if people like myself and a handful of others I know didn’t speak up and not only cast their votes but make certain to do what they can to make their voices be heard amongst their friends, families, and neighbors as well as their representatives- where in the world would we all be right now?



It’s a terrible thing if we “regular” adults aren’t having these imperative conversations, being that we are the ones who are responsible for making things happen in our own lives and in the lives of our children.  If our kids don’t hear us having these talks, these healthy debates of ideals and beliefs, how can we expect them to be passionate, proactive and caring individuals that will take responsibility for the ways things happen in their world?  These conversations can be thoughtful, respectful and a wonderful lesson in passion, civility, acceptance and accountability for ourselves and for our children.  They help us to grow, they aid us in understanding one another, and they give birth to new ways of thinking.  It all starts with conversation.  Let’s get back to meaningful ones.



Stay Away from My Husband, I'll Stay Away from Yours

On my most recent waiting room adventure, I happened upon the Ladies Home Journal.  I flipped through the pages, killing the time and avoiding the dual annoyance of both The Situation’s & Larry the Cable Guy’s voices pouring out from the television bolted in the corner.  Normally I enjoy a bit of “LIVE! with Regis and Kelly” in the morning, but with these two on the program (yes, at the same time, if you can believe it) I opted for the least boring looking magazine I could find and settled in for an unknown amount of time while my grandmother had her ultrasound. 

To my delight, a pretty interesting article caught my eye.  Coincidences never cease to follow me, as its content bore extreme relevance to a recent conversation I’d had with a good girlfriend of mine.  If this was some higher power’s way of attempting to get me to see this particular topic from a different view point, it failed miserably.  I’m pretty open-minded, but I couldn’t help but believe that this author is full of baloney.  (Either that, or she buys her own bs she’s selling, in which case I’ve got no doubt that one day the error of her ways will make itself known.  It’d be interesting to follow her to see the outcome!)

I use the term “selling”, because she’s got a book.  Here it is:

The title of the magazine piece is “Why Every Married Woman Needs a Guy Best Friend” and it is written by a woman named Iris Krasnow.  It starts out like this: “I'll Just Say it: I believe every married woman needs a cute, sensitive, slightly flirtatious guy best friend. Discuss.”  Well, discuss we shall….  I’ll start.  I think this viewpoint seems like a dangerous recipe for marital disaster!

The author of this piece goes on to explain that we married gals must all have another man in our lives: one to flirt with and to feel mysterious with, because the mystery is of course gone for our husbands.  These men we’ve married and whom many of us have procreated with, obviously, could never still find us as fascinating and intriguing as they did Pre-Marriage.  After all, they see terribly unflattering sides of us, like a baby making its way out of our vaginas or the feces we’d forgotten to flush in our sleep deprived stupor after having taken care of said baby all night.  Both, we can all agree, are seriously unsexy things.  And even if some of our hubbies haven’t bared witness to either of the above mentioned scenarios, they undoubtedly know many other dreadful truths about us: that our legs aren’t naturally silky smooth, because (you guessed it) they’ve seen proof of the razor and some stray shavings left over in our shared shower once or twice….  And because they’ve smelled our morning breath, have seen us flip out, fall apart and watched as our breasts plummeted to depths that no one’s poor boobies ever should.  ERGO: The mystique is gone.  Never to be retrieved.  And we conceited females naturally need a man in our lives at all times who finds us to be wonderfully mysterious.  (Excuse me while I gag.)  Other men who believe we’re as smart, gorgeous, and wonderful as we pretend to be with our witty conversation, plastered on make-up, and squeezed into Spanx undergarments.  These “friendships” with other men, however, should remain strictly “passionate of mind and chaste of body”, says Ms Krasnow.  Because, she tells us, only an idiot would ruin this good thing they’ve got going on by complicating it with sex.  (Holding back sarcastic laughter.)  Oh how naïve a concept…………………

I’m not saying I didn’t, at all, understand her viewpoint.  I actually did.  In theory, it sounds pretty nice.  She points out that even though we love our spouses and “connect” in other ways than in just the bedroom, there are still some things that we do not connect on.  There are the moments where we desire to share excitement over something that our significant other will only half pay attention to, say, while the big game is on.  And we may want to talk topics and do things with our spouses that they just really don’t understand our enthusiasm about.  Of course this all makes sense.  No one is interested in every single thing that their partner is interested in.  And let’s face facts here, after being married for years married folks can have a tendency to tune one another out.  But I don’t believe her prescription to this problem is the right way to go about dealing with it.  I mean, seriously?  Enter: other straight male to pick up all of husband’s slack.  This hardly seems conducive to having a better marriage.

I’m not going to be completely unreasonable and try to crucify this woman for her opinion.  I get it that there’s different strokes for different folks.  But I can tell you right now that what works for her would not work for me.  And I think I’ve got a pretty solid argument as to why it would not. 

When my husband looks at me like I’ve got three heads, or worse he doesn’t look at me at all, I’ve got my girlfriends to turn to.  When all else fails and I feel like I’m talking to a brick wall, I’ve got facebook to vent to:  A “wall” that typically answers back.  I just think that by going to another (straight) man instead would be playing with fire here.  We’ve all seen the gay man taken up as the “hottest new accessory” in recent years.  Gals nowadays have a fab gay guy on their arms like it's this season's hottest new Prada bag, parading him around while introducing him as the "gay husband".  (See here why one gay male detests this trend.)  These men provide for the women who befriend them, the filling in of a void that Ms Krasnow speaks about.  They give compliments when the hubbies have long since stopped, “You look GORGE!”, “That outfit is FIERCE!”, “This new Louis Vuitton corset you’re wearing makes your tits look AMAZE!”  There’s no shortage of ego boosts here.  And they will accompany their lady pals on marathon Neiman Marcus shopping sprees, and to be fair and not stereotype too much, anywhere else they and this female friend like to go, doing things that they both similarly enjoy.  They’re the companion to things which these gals’ husbands would never want to be a part of in a million years, and discuss all the latest gossip that the husbands could not care less about. They’re essentially filling in all of the blanks left by the husbands, without the bitchiness or cattiness of that another female may posess.  But when you throw in two heterosexual people of opposing genders who find common interests, confide in one another, and do things like laugh over wine with each other (Please see article in which the author gushes over Derrin, her incredible next door neighbor who is a master chef and whom she describes as “curious and extroverted, a divorced man of 60 with a gorgeous smile.”) you are playing with fire, in my most humble opinion. 

She addresses the label “emotional affair” and argues that all relationships outside of our marriages could be labeled as such, whether between two women, two men, or a woman and man because they are all relationships we’ve sought out to “stimulate our whole beings”.  She completely rejects the notion that her relationships with straight males who are not her husband are emotional affairs.  But this is where she’s lost me.  I’ve got some great gal pals, and I do not disagree that they help me to be my best version of myself, but there’s no possibility of messy emotions coming into play for us.  See, even though I’ve got some beautiful friends, I don’t think in speaking about our friendship I’d have addressed how gorgeous their smiles are or anything else about their outward appearances the way she did when describing her male friend.  There’s also no physical attraction there at all, because simple biology dictates that our “doors don’t swing that way”.  Well, in most cases.  But even with my gal pals who are homosexual or bisexual, it would take for me to also be of the same sexual orientation for there to be any kind of “risk”.  And yes, I believe there is a certain risk involved when a woman chooses to have male friends like this author suggests having.  Take into consideration that many a man and woman have tried through the years to be just friends, and then one day those folks weren’t in the right mind or were not strong enough to resist the temptation that had built up between them.  I understand that while in these friendships those individuals may have completely intended to keep things platonic.  (“Intended to” being the key words.)  But why put yourself in the position of being around a person of the opposite sex whom you admire and that you get along fabulously with, when you are married?  We as adults know that emotions are messy, and life is messy, and we’ve already got minimal time with our spouses in between all of life’s other attention stealers.  Children, jobs, in-laws, finances can all interfere with our relationships with our spouses.  And sure, we all need someone to turn to when we’re stressed out or broken down, or going through a rough patch with our husbands.  I just happen to believe that our mothers, sisters, girlfriends, and therapists are better alternatives to charming men who listen to us, show compassion towards what we are feeling, and who are seemingly perfect in the ways our husbands have failed to be. Is it worth the possible repercussions? 

I want to be specific in my disagreement, here.  I am all for mixed gender friendships, but when you are in a monogamous marriage, these male/female friendships should be kept strictly as “couple friendships”.  This is to say that if I have a male friend, he’s a friend of my husband’s as well, and this friend and I don’t “kick it” alone.  We do not have lingering conversations, whether over a glass of wine or over a telephone.  We don’t have one on one outings where my hubs isn’t present.  And there’s no way in hell my hubby would be one of these “straight male friends” to another married woman.  Oh HAIL no! 

Here’s the part where you chime in…  I’m prepared to hear it all- how right I am, how you believe this lady who wrote the article must be on crack, how some homewreckin’ whore stole your man after claiming she was just his “friend”….  Or, how insecure I must be, that I’m close minded, that if I trust my husband then I’ve got nothing to worry about so I obviously must NOT trust him.  Whatever it is, I promise to respond.  I want to hear what others think about this theory.  Whether you agree or disagree, I still want to know what you’ve got to say about it.  Because, the idea that our husbands should be completely comfortable and confident with themselves, with us and with our marriages and happily welcome another heterosexual man into our lives to make up in the areas they’re lacking, is just mind boggling to me any way I twist it. 

Take the Hint

If only I could give two shits

About the crap you’re spewing

I’d pretend better to be interested in all of your yapping

Instead of wondering what else I could be doing.

You complain and you gripe and talk only about YOU

Your self righteousness is seriously incessant

Your voice has the quality of squelching alley cats

You’re just so goddamn unpleasant!

But sympathetically I smile all while tuning you out

“Hmm”ing, and “Aww”ing when it seems the right spot

So wrapped up in yourself, you’re blissfully unaware

That there’s no one’s true attention you’ve got.

How must it feel to be so out of tune

With everyone whose ever around you?

You’re consumed by yourself, you see nothing else

Are you even aware that the sky’s blue?

If only you were a rarity, but alas you are not

I meet folks just like you, more and more

Who share your selfish, conceited nature

And you all truly are such a bore!

For nothing is wrong with discussing yourself

As long as it’s not the sole subject

Of every discussion, during every visit

Your job, family, clothes… your new project.

Observe what’s going on with others around you

Show interest in people other than yourself sometime

You may just make connections with people, even score friendships

Instead of driving folks out of their mind.



All Because Two People Fell in Love

These words hang above a door in my kitchen, on a decorated wooden plaque.  A gift from my mother.  She’s given me so much, I can’t remember if it’s an anniversary present, or simply something she found during one of her shopping travels and thought that I would like.  It matches nicely with the colors of the room, and it fits perfectly- as though it were measured and made for the sole purpose of hanging in that space. 

Time passed, and I barely noticed it there anymore.  After all, it hangs above the door to the laundry room, a place I try regularly to avoid.  But one day I glanced up from my end of our long wooden dinner table.  The words glared back at me.  It was during a tough time in my marriage, and upon reading the sign in that moment I felt a sense of fakeness.  I’d suddenly wished I had never hung it up.  It read like a lie:  “This couple, this family, this home… all of it, because two people first fell madly in love.”  What a fraud I was.  That’s not how our story read at all.

We aren’t your typical romance story.  He didn’t pursue and woo me at first sight.  No long courtship ensued.  There was no head over heels feeling, or moment of knowing that he was “The One”.  I’d had the pursuing and the wooing.  I’d become engaged to it, and planned a wedding with it.  Then, I left it.  And that’s when I met my husband. 

Random chance put us side by side at a work meeting.  All of the details leading up to the morning of our meeting seemed the Universe’s attempt at keeping us apart.  I was sent to a location a long drive South, only to find out upon arrival that the training class had been moved last minute, to a location far North.  Somehow, this information never made its way to me- not through office email or my manager.  I waited around a bit, for word from my superiors as to whether I should attend this already in session training incredibly late, or head on back to the office and catch the next training happening a week later.  The decision was made to have me attend, beyond tardy.  Back into my silver coupe I hopped, tunes playing, for a two hour drive back the direction from which I’d just come.  It was a bright and beautiful September day….  I took my time on that long stretch of Route 1 North, and into the city of Wilmington.

The only seat left for me was directly next to him.  His dimples were sweet and the sparkle in his bright blue eyes was reminiscent of the brilliant blue fall sky I’d appreciated on my drive up that morning.  I took notice almost immediately.  His endearing chuckle and broad chest also grabbed my attention.  So too, did his gaughty yellow gold watch.  We’re both pretty outgoing, and having to spend hours in a training class over the course of several days together lead to conversation and laughter.  “Sense of humor, check.” But, he smoked, was a Dallas Cowboys football fan, and had an apparent tacky taste in accessories.  “Triple No-Check.” Throw in the fact that I was sort of seeing a rebound guy after my engagement ended with the good ole high school sweetheart, and wasn’t even looking…  Mere attraction wasn’t enough for us to make any moves on one another and I doubted I’d even see him again.  I still think back on this day sometimes and wonder how we ever ended up together.   How could I have possibly known that I’d just met my husband and future father of my children?....

More time passed.  We had another training course together, ironically at the location I’d initially gone to the last time.  I was surprised at myself that I was excited to see him there when I walked into the room.  And I was sorry that he was already seated with others next to him.  There came a point in that class where we were instructed to pair up and “role play” a situation.  A tall, lanky and tremendously dorky man in his late thirties eagerly jumped up and asked if I’d be his partner.  “Damn.”  This guy was pretty high up in the banking world, and worked for an office a good distance away from mine.  He somehow finagled his way into insisting I take his business card in case I ever had any ‘questions’ that he could be helpful in answering for me and I gave him mine.  (I never called.  He, on the other hand, did.  And left a cringe worthy voice mail after several failed attempts to reach me, as well as a few creepy emails.  I eventually had to tell him, very nicely, to lose my card.) 

After this class, we corresponded via company email a bit here and there.  Until before I knew it, it was every day.  At the end of our shifts, we’d find ourselves typing things like “talk to ya tomorrow.”  He was in another building, in another city, so there was no office “walk by’s” or anything like that optional.  I’d gone on a few dates here and there with a guy who worked in pharmaceuticals, and a couple first and last dates with two others.  Nothing at all serious and I still thought of him often.  Finally, one day I either invited him along to a local restaurant bar where I had plans with a girlfriend of mine, or he invited himself.  Either way, I can still recall with striking detail the moment he came strutting through the door.  Black bomber jacket.  “Is this 1988?”  Fashion fail and all, he looked cute as could be!  Those dimples, and those eyes immediately drew my gaze away from that leather disaster, and we spent the night talking, laughing and drinking Sicilian Kisses shots with my girlfriend and a group of her coworkers at a bustling college town bar.  My next email the following Monday, would be more than just friendly, as he complimented me on my appearance the other night.  I may not have been wearing a coat stolen from Tom Cruise in ‘Top Gun’ (sans the patches), but I certainly wasn’t looking my best.  I still remember having my hair in a bun, and I recall exactly what I’d been wearing: a blue and yellow sweater, blue jeans, and white sneakers.  Naïve me had no clue that this “restaurant” turned into a happening bar once the clock struck 9:00, and after I’d finished dinner with my friend and we made our way to the bar area, all around me I was surrounded by stiletto heels, miniskirts and halters tops.  (Regardless of the fact that it was a freezing cold January night.)  In any event, a few more emails exchanged, and I asked him outright if he was flirting with me.  His cheeky response gave me my answer.

We hung out as friends, but there was no denying our attraction to one another.  One night while dropping me off at my parent’s home, he gave me the quickest kiss on the lips.  It startled me, as we’d always remained strictly platonic, and my reaction seemed to offend him.  It was then that I realized we were fooling no one by pretending nothing was there, and I pulled him back in for a do-over.  From there we saw each other just about every single day.  I club hopped with this seasoned “bad boy”, more than I’d ever gone clubbing before.  In fact, he was the only reason I went.  When our dates didn’t consist of dancing and drinking, we watched movies, talked about our families, and I introduced him to mine even though I was hesitant to meet his.  Things progressed quickly, and I was the happiest I’d been in quite some time….  Long story short, we found out I was pregnant on April 27^th, 2006.  All of that “attraction” and bar hopping together had led us straight down the fast track to parenthood. 

That night we decided that as crazy as it seemed, we would be a family.  Looking back, we were strangers at best.  But we came from similar family backgrounds: our heritage, our values, our beliefs and our ideas on what we wanted for our family and for this baby were all aligned.  In a whirlwind of events we bought a house, married, and welcomed two baby boys within one year’s time.  Our first son was born in December, and his younger brother came in November of 2007. 

Writing this today, I realize that the sign that hangs in my kitchen could not be any truer of me and my family.  Against all odds, here we are.  We’d never have made it this far without love.  A strong, authentic, overwhelming, binding kind of love. 

Ours is a love not of tradition, or romance- but of dedication, and faith.  We took a leap of faith and placed all bets on one another because of our love for our unborn child and the goodness we saw in each other.  We continue to dedicate ourselves to one another and our children, because of a kind of love neither of us had ever known until we became “us”.  On our journey together, we struggled emotionally, and financially, but in the face of adversity we fought.  We fought for love.  We lost who we were and found who we were meant to be, because of love.  We continue to fight for this love we’ve created.  Because it’s a love worth fighting for.

So, no, our love is not the ideal kind that you envision for yourself or for your children, or one that the fairy tales depict.  We may have met as colleagues, married as virtual strangers, and fallen in love with one another along the way.  But it just so happens, that despite the way our love has come about, it’s the most brilliant kind of love I have ever experienced.  And I know with a strange certainty that we cherish each other in ways that we couldn’t possibly any other.  This love we’ve got has grown and has strengthened in ways I have not seen in any other relationship.  And it continues to grow.  Our marriage, our family, this house we’ve made into a home:  Indeed, it is all because two people fell in love…..