whole parenting family
Like, really did. What would happen in our marriage? Well, he showed me what would happen because for some unknown reason in December, or was it late November?, my husband of nearly seven years decided to LAVISH me with verbal affirmation. I mean, it was hilarious. It was over the top. It was insane. It was . . . amazing. To this second of this very day I’m not entirely certain what inspired him. He thinks it was when we had our home blessed by our wonderful priest with a particular prayer: the Enthronement of the Sacred Heart. He felt like the graces we received from that kicked him into constant personalized affirmation land. I figured it was a way to battle against the winter blues that inevitably accompany long cold dark days away from us at the office, peppered with periodic trips out to our family Lodge in Wisconsin. But I digress. Here’s what happened when my husband totally met my love language needs (and who knew my need for verbal affirmation was really so inordinately deep?): 1) We laughed. A lot. They say laughter is the best medicine. It’s not as though I was ill, or our relationship was in a rough dark place (as it has been, haven’t all of ours?). Everything was just fine. Not splendid, but certainly not abysmal. But we laughed and laughed of his daily babblings about what a wonderful wife I was, and an award-winning mother, and a chef beyond compare (lies,…
Read MoreI find myself still fighting poorly with my husband. We’ve come a long way in how we convey disagreements since our engagement (when we had our first real super duper fight?). And neither of us are the argumentative sort. Well, I’M not. And we know him to be easy going and generally laid back. So maybe one of us might be more stubborn and opinionated but I wouldn’t know that for a fact. Late into the hours the other night, my (sick? not really. teething? not really. growth spurt? maybe, sure. insomnia? could be. sleeping with his eyes open? definitely) littlest babe was up. In a weird way. Like, when I sat by his crib and held his hand periodically he would murmur off into a sleep that meant his eyes were taped open but his breathing and twitching indicated he was in REM. And when I tried to sneak out multiple times, he knew, oh! he knew. All this to say, I had a few hours sitting in a chair to braid segments of my hair, and think about this. How to fight better when you have small kids. Why is fighting different when you have small kids? Because you’re worn out to begin with, so your starting base isn’t a rest-filled, restored, peaceful, tranquil, my house-is-as-i-clean-up-last-night sort of life. You live in the rings of a tornado. So your fights can’t even come from a solid foundation. You’re like swinging into the wild winds hoping your spouse hears you because…
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I learned a really important lesson for me last year. Without deliberating meaning to, my word must have been No. I experienced saying “no” and how wonderful that was for me. Saying no, feeling guilty about it, sounding selfish, but sitting happily situated knowing that it was a good kind of selfish. No: meaning, do less, be more. Meaning, say no to the world more, say yes to what’s going to work for our little family more. The inescapable pressures on a mom of young children to perform every conceivable duty well grates on me. Advance in your career! Have the perfect birth & nursing! Be on your kid’s preschool committee for healthy treats! Stay//become thin and sexy for your spouse! Don’t complain about being tired! Don’t gloat about having kids! Rinse, repeat. Perhaps for me the turning point was sending our oldest to a few hours a week nature school. Not much time away from home, but it still felt like a big shift from our laissez-faire, surviving three kids in under four years kind of life. Suddenly I got the two little kids on the same nap schedule, and I started homeschooling a little more in earnest with our oldest. I tuned into how our son was playing with his little frenemies at school, how he was coping with adjusting to listening to other adults, how our middle child needed special girl time, how our monster tot was, indeed, exceptionally physical, and that he needed extra attention just unto himself…
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1) wear actual pajamas to bed that I change into at bedtime and out of in the morning. 2) brush my hair everyday. 3) five minutes of quiet prayer. okay, maybe more like four is realistic, but quiet prayer. intentional quiet prayer. 4) no more buying hot cocoas at coffee shops. 5) when one of my kids ask me to read to them, or help with legos, or play dolls, do it right then. 6) stop complain-texting my husband. 7) get a dog. think about how much work a puppy is. think about it again. sit uncertain about a dog. 8) put *it* away right away. whatever it is. procrastination means it will sit there for days. 9) make our bed every morning. launder our sheets every week. 10) clean the bathrooms once a week. DID YOU HEAR THAT, UNIVERSE?! 11) say I’m sorry without following up with why I’m really right and totally justified. 12) tell my husband I love him fiercely everyday. especially when I’m annoyed with whatever. 13) eat family dinner in the Dining Room once a week. 14) reflect on the characteristics that bug me in other people–insofar as how I do them too. 15) stop picking my kids’ noses. 16) use the cold press juicer I gave AA for Christmas every day for maximum GI tract benefits. How typically New Years’ Resolutions of me! But now you know them. Hold me to them!!
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So I’m not ready for the holiday season to be over. The cousins all together for the first time for Christmas!! My siblings surrounding me at every turn (quite so, when I turned from the counter to the pantry to dump something in the trash, there was always someone right.there.next.to.me). Tuning out the outside world to keep our circus from ending in rampage, stampede, and certain maiming by the 19 month old who still randomly bites. One thing that was really special, among the bazillion, was that I made matching leggings for all seven grandkids (ages 5 and under), we procured cream cable knit irish sweaters for all of them, and my sister Molly made felt crowns for everyone for a Christmas pic for my parent’s annual letter update on their lives for their friends and family. Molly’s gone home with her crew, Peter will go home in a few days as well, and then all will be dull and sad until our next family reunion. I’m feasting my eyes on these outtakes from our photo sesh in the meanwhile. Not touched up. Raw grit here, people. I hope your holidays were merry and bright and if you’re still celebrating the 12 days of Christmas, rock on with that, too! A foot . . . Aron? Peter? Someone? Ladies, don’t hold back. Tell us how you really feel about being royalty. If only the other two boy cuzes were in this one!! And my monster tot. How’s that candy cane,…
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