Rolling with the changes

Annalyn enjoying her daddy at dinnertime!

Life at my house is a little different these days. Mark has a new job, and we’re doing things differently than before.

From the time I was pregnant until just a couple months ago, Mark has worked evenings. And when I say “evenings,” I mean that he was gone from early afternoon to late at night, sometimes not getting home until after midnight.

In other words, for Annalyn’s entire life, we have never had family time during the week. She had time with her daddy, she had time with her mommy, and we all met up on the weekend.

It wasn’t as bad as it sounds, although it did drive me to blog. Then again, I hope you’d agree that my blogging isn’t a bad result, either!

A couple months ago, though, Mark changed jobs and now works (mostly) nights. So now, we have our whole evenings together. We also moved Annalyn’s bedtime back to 7:30, giving us even more time to play and eat and be together.

All this change has spurred more change. It’s all good, but change still takes some getting used to. The first two nights that Mark was home, I thought I was going to lose my mind.

He was just so . . . THERE! In my space! Sitting on my couch! Watching my TV! Looking at me!

Thankfully, I realized quickly that I was being a jerk. I apologized, and we adjusted. Ahem. We’re still adjusting. As a matter of fact, I came up with 10 ways (as in Top Ten Tuesday, of course) that we’re adjusting to change right now:

1. Family time: As I mentioned, we have a lot more time together now. Or, as Annalyn says, “all of us.” If we want, we can go to the store together or play in the backyard together. Granted, it is summer, and the backyard is ridiculously humid. So I should say that it allows Annalyn to play in the yard with Mark while I sneak inside to the house. With the air conditioning.
2. Cooking dinner: But that does bring me to my second point: I have more opportunity to cook dinner now. A real dinner. Not a plain cheese quesadilla and canned fruit for Annalyn, while I eat chips and salsa until she goes to bed. But a real, cooked on the stove, featuring at least three of the four food groups dinner. Sometimes (like last night), Mark does the cooking and I do the playing. Either way, we get the chance to cook for our family, and that’s something we both enjoy but didn’t get to do often when we spent our evenings apart.
3. Family dinner: With Mark’s previous schedule, our only chance to eat meals as a family was on the weekend. And weekends are usually busy, leaving us little time to plan or cook or eat nice meals together. That left lunch on the days I came home from work, but it’s hard to enjoy much together-ness in 30 rushed minutes, with a 2-year-old. So being able to eat dinner – all of us, at the same time, with manners! – feels like a small miracle.
4. Bathtime and bedtime: For the first two and a half years of Annalyn’s life, I was the only person here (during the week) to give her a bath and put her to bed. You know what that means, right? Poor girl did NOT get a bath every night – or, sometimes, even every other night! Seriously, she’s a good girl and there’s only one of her, so it’s not like bedtime was always such a hardship. But having Mark here to help with the nighttime routine is so nice! And I think it’s really good for Annalyn, too.
5. Gas money: Okay, this one has nothing to do with being a family and everything to do with money. Mark’s new job is way closer to our house than the old one. So he buys gas half as often as he used to – saving us more than $100 a month!
6. Mo’ money: On top of the gas savings, he’s also making more money, which means we're finally going to get out of debt. And that makes him feel really good. Not in a money-is-the-most-important-thing sort of way. But he worked really hard to get this job – and he persevered even though that’s not normally his MO, and now he’s proud of the fact that he’s providing so well for his family. And I’m proud of him, too.
7. Flexibility: This might surprise you, but I’m not the most flexible person out there. I like rules and schedules and structure and lines around my colors. But Mark’s new job, at least for now, has none of that. He works a different shift every night, and we don’t know what that different shift will be until the day it happens. When I first realized this (after he’d signed paperwork but before he started the new job), I may have had a complete meltdown. Okay, let’s be honest. I did. But since then, I’ve managed to adjust to this new way of life and can see that it’s not a bad trade-off for the family time we’re gaining and the debt we’re starting to pay off. {Not to say I didn’t freak out a little bit on the night he didn’t get called in to work at all. But c’mon! That would frustrate any budget-creating and bill-paying wife, right?}
8. TV watching: Having Mark home in the evenings was a wake-up call. His presence was like a mirror, held up to my lazy habits. I didn’t like it. Seriously, I’m pretty sure my husband was appalled to realize just how much of my evenings have been spent sitting on the couch. He understands how it happened (newborn + unemployment and then underemployment + too much alone time = a LOT of time spent on the Internet, watching TV and generally not moving around). But he still wasn’t impressed. Thankfully, it’s summer, so TV isn’t a big draw anyway. But we may have some more adjusting to do come fall.
9. Blogging time: Just like it seems that I watch too much TV (and I do), it also seems to Mark that I spend too much time on the computer. And…I do. I haven’t had to be a good manager of my time, because it’s been all my time. Nobody was here to care if I spent three hours in front of my two favorite screens and then stayed up late to change laundry, pick up the house and clean up the kitchen. But now that Mark is here to point out (gently, of course. Ha!) how ridiculous that is? I’m trying to figure out how to be more efficient.
10. My bed: For nine years, Mark and I shared a full-size bed. Not long ago, we finally upgraded to a queen, and we’re not quite sure how we lasted those nine years. Now that we’re sleeping – for the most part – during two completely different parts of the day, though? We are in slumber heaven. Neither one of us has someone snoring in our ears or rolling over too far or breathing in my face. It’s just me, my pillow and nothing but space. Having the bed to myself is a definite change – but I have to say it’s kind of nice. {Weird disclaimer: Please don’t bother being concerned about the state of our marriage based on this situation. Of course I miss my husband at night, and yes, we do sleep in the same bed at the same time on the weekends. So, really, it’s all good.}

Those are the main ways we’ve been adjusting to all the changes going on. Does everyone in your family work, eat and sleep on the same schedule? Have you had to adjust to any changes lately?

This post will be linked to OhAmanda’s Top Ten Tuesday.

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The Problem with Romance Novels, part two

We sat shoulder to shoulder in a tiny dorm room around a tiny TV, watching one of our favorite movies. Just as Johnny marched over to Baby and pulled her out of the corner, our friend Jared walked in the room.

As he took in the room, looking from one girl to the next . . . to the next . . . to the next, he said, “What is wrong with you guys?”

Blinking, we looked up at him and realization dawned. Every single one of us was staring at the screen with a [ridiculous] dreamy look in our eyes. It was like we were in a trance.

The same kind of romance trance I slip into when I read romance novels.

The kind where my eyes glaze over and I forget that what I’m reading is make-believe. It might be grown-up make-believe, but it’s no closer to real life than the magic fairies and flying carpets my daughter sees in Disney movies.

For most of my life, I prided myself on being “a romantic.” I dreamed of receiving gigantic bouquets of roses and daisies, song lyrics made me melt, and I pretended to adore Shakespeare. I ate up any hint of love – or what I thought was love.

But surely it must be! After all, my boyfriend – who eventually became my husband – gave me roses. And wrote sweet letters that included lyrics from our favorite songs. And endured a Shakespeare play amidst mosquitoes and humidity.

The problem is that romance novels (and romantic comedies . . . and fairy tales in general) don’t tell you the rest of the story.

First of all, most relationships don’t follow such a wild path, from meet cute to starry-eyed, tingling toes dates to dramatic tear-them-apart situation to brave, bold, courageous move from The Hero to heart-stopping kiss . . . and fade to black.

Sometimes, you just meet a guy and think he’s all right. Sometimes, you don’t necessarily have the hots for him right away, but he’s got a car and nobody else is asking you out. Sometimes you go on predictable dates and have uninspired conversations with a startling lack of clever quips.

That’s what my first (and only) romance looked like. So you know what I did? I created drama.

I overreacted to every slight and insult. I prolonged misunderstandings and vowed to make him pay for every twinge of hurt I felt. I sobbed while listening to “How Do I Live Without You” and wrote flowery letters professing my undying love until my hand cramped.

Honestly, I deserved to be dumped. But I lucked out. Mark either didn’t know any better or just overlooked my craziness. Because despite my adolescent behavior (for the record, I was an adolescent), he married me.

And that’s where the love story ends, right?

Not exactly. Even though, while you’re spending every waking (and some sleeping) second planning the most beautiful, special, wonderful wedding EVER, it seems like the wedding is the goal, it’s not.

It’s just the beginning of a true love story.

Unfortunately, I didn’t know anything about true love. I didn’t know about compromise and respect and trust and forgiveness. I knew about flowers and chocolates and surprise dates and grand gestures.

Imagine my surprise when married life wasn’t an endless parade of love notes and slow dances and secret getaways. Imagine my disappointment when marriage wasn’t what I expected, wasn’t what I hoped for, wasn’t what I deserved.

SCREECH! {That’s the sound effect for tires squealing.} Hold on! Why did I think I deserved such lavish and loving treatment?

Here’s why: a lifelong diet of romance novels (with a side of feminist influences and a mostly doting boyfriend) had led me to believe that I could behave however I wanted to and still get everything I wanted in return.

I developed a classic case of He needs to change. He’s the problem. I deserve better.

Now, I’m not saying my husband is or was perfect. But had I spent more time showing him love and respect, and less time coming up with reason why he didn’t deserve those things as much as I did, I might have enjoyed the first several years of our marriage more.

My grasp on reality and perspective on love didn’t change overnight. I started realizing maybe I’d had some things wrong when we visited a marriage counselor a few times. And things looked different after we watched several of our couple friends go through divorce. Of course, having a child changes a lot of people, and it certainly changed us.

And now, I have no desire to read a romance novel.

Haha! Just kidding. That’s not true. I still enjoy romance. Most the books I read these days – at least the fiction – are mysteries with a romantic aspect. And you probably won’t ever rip me away from watching Sleepless in Seattle or even The Wedding Planner on cable.

But I read and watch those things with a grain of salt now. Or, as my patient husband says, with a salt lick.

Because the love described in romance novels isn’t real. And it can be dangerous if you start believing that’s how things ought to be.

And that is the problem with romance novels.

Read the book and articles that prompted this two-part post (see part one here):

• Jane Austen Ruined My Life by Beth Pattillo
• Emotional Pornography by Pete Wilson
• The Dangers of Emotional Pornography in Relevant Magazine
• Does Fiction Rule Your Marriage? at Blissfully Domestic
• I See the World Through Rose-Colored Glasses by Sarah

What do you think? Can fictional romance be dangerous? How do you define true love?

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Sweet souvenirs

For the past couple of weeks, I’ve been trying to figure out how to write about my upcoming wedding anniversary. I had a couple good ideas, but every time I sat down to write, I got stuck.

It shouldn’t be hard to think of ways to describe how much I love my husband . . . right? I shouldn’t struggle to write 11 ways our marriage has improved over the past 11 years or a list of the many times I’ve fallen in love with my husband over the years.

But some things are hard to put into words.

So when I read Brad Ruggles’ blog post, What’s In Your Shoebox? I was relieved. Finally, I had the perfect way to commemorate my 11th anniversary. I’d just find 11 keepsakes that symbolize my relationship with Mark.

Easier said than done. Apparently I’m not the Level 1 hoarder (random Bones reference, if you’re wondering) I thought I was.

I rallied, though, and found 11 things (even if they’re not technically “keepsakes”) that, when put together, form a picture of a decade-plus of marriage.

Embroidered Teddy Bear Vest
Don’t tell me you don’t have one of these in the back of your closet, too. What? You don’t? Oh, right. Me either.

I actually keep this in my cedar chest. Not because it’s so cute or might someday be in style. I keep this vest because Mark gave it to me for Christmas just a couple months after we started dating.

It wasn’t cool in 1994, either. His mom picked it out for him. How cute is that?
 

Movie tickets
I can’t even focus on why I kept these tickets. All I can see is how darned cheap movies used to be! Seriously! When was the last time it cost just $3.75 to see a movie?

When we were engaged, I compiled a bunch of photos and ephemera from our dating days. (Yes, I said “ephemera.” Ever since I learned what that word meant, I’ve been dying to use it. Sure, I could have said “souvenirs” or something like that. But where’s the fun in that?)

Anyway, I stuck all that stuff, along with some cheesy quotes and clip art, into a scrapbook. And even though that was more than 11 years ago (and my scrapbooking has, ahem, changed a LOT), I still get the urge to keep my movie stubs after going to a movie with Mark.

Martina McBride CD
I’ve already told you the story about this one. On Valentine’s Day 1998, I was expecting Mark to propose. Instead, he gave me a very disappointing thoughtful gift, this CD.

Engagement ring
I can’t wear my engagement ring right now. Yes, I know I could get it stretched, but I am still (STILL!) holding out hope that I will – someday soon, preferably – lose enough weight to wear my ring.

I miss wearing my pretty little diamond ring, but – for those of you who are worried I’m walking around with a naked ring finger – I do wear a wedding band.

Note
Every once in a while, Mark will write me a nice note, and I’ve kept this one long enough that I’ve moved it from one planner to another, sticking it in a place of honor with a paper clip.

Shot glasses
What started as a way for Mark to be as “cool” as his best friend who collected shot glasses has become a way for us to commemorate our travels as a family.

In other words, aside from a magnet or pencil, a shot glass is the cheapest souvenir you can find in gift shops around the world, so we buy one on every vacation.

It’s silly, but it’s ours. Seeing those little glass cups on top of Mark’s dresser reminds me of the trips we’ve taken together. And reminds me that I really should dust more often.

Crutches
Awwww . . . so sweet, right? Okay, maybe not. But if there’s an item in our house (or in the garage, as the case may be) that illustrates part of our history, it’s a pair of crutches.

Mark’s crutches, just to be clear. That man has been injured more times than I can count! (I’m kidding. There will be a Top Ten Tuesday post about it in my future.)

But seriously, dealing with an accident-prone husband has taught me more patience than I ever thought I had.

Cups
I don’t know exactly why I love plastic cups so much. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that glasses never seem to get clean in my dishwasher. Tacky as it may be, Mark has indulged this quirk for years.

And by “indulged,” I mean he has picked up – and sanitized – plastic cups from ridiculous places, just to fill up my cabinet with cheap, logoed cups.

And I love him for it.

Annalyn’s dress
In the days after Annalyn was born, I spent a lot of time sleeping and recovering. Mark, on the other hand, spent a lot of time bored and frustrated. Bored, because he was used to being on the go constantly – not sitting at his wife’s bedside, holding her hand and speaking softly. And frustrated, because that’s exactly what I wanted him to do.

I barely even tolerated him visiting Annalyn in the NICU. What can I say? I was extremely crazy hormonal.

But one night, after I finally fell asleep (thanks to a dose of Benadryl, my version of anti-anxiety medication), he snuck out for some fresh air. And came back with a gift for our tiny baby girl: the cutest little dress I’d ever seen.

Bible study books
Throughout our marriage, Mark and I have been part of several different small groups. Each one has played a part in our faiths and our relationship, forcing us to grow in ways we never expected when we first decided to start a couples’ Bible study at the BSU.

Scrapbook pages
As I said before, my scrapbooking style has changed quite a bit since the days of our engagement. But I never get tired of documenting our life together – even if it means stepping out from behind the camera and getting in the picture for once.

I know these keepsakes, these things are silly. And oh my goodness, this post could not possibly be any longer. But to me, these 11 items draw a beautiful picture of the man I married 11 years ago: sweet, fun, giving, thoughtful, patient and faithful. And that is one picture I will keep forever.

Happy anniversary, Mark.

What keepsakes tell the story of your relationships?

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(in)courage: Speedy Forgiveness

Image by Ramanathan.Kathiresan

This morning I got a speeding ticket on the way to work.

[Note: I wrote this a few weeks ago, so don't go thinking that I got ANOTHER ticket! :) ]

I was driving really fast. On a residential street. In the rain. In other words, I completely deserved that ticket. (The one that’s going to cost me all the money I’ve been saving for a blog redesign and then some. Sigh.)

You know what else I deserved? Getting in trouble with my husband.

But aside from noting that a ticket of my, AHEM, substantial size would get him fired (he drives for a living), he didn’t say anything other than, “It’s okay.”

To read the rest of my story, visit (in)courage.

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The most perfect Valentine's Day ever . . . almost.

When I was a freshman in college, I decided that it was time for Mark and me to get engaged. After all, we’d already planned to get married after my sophomore year, so we needed to get the ball rolling. Wedding planning takes time, you know?

So I told Mark about this. Don’t be alarmed. He started asking me to marry him when I was just 16, so this was only good news for him.

Shortly after that conversation, we flipped the calendar to February. Which, as you know if you’ve ever been in any sort of relationship, means expectations and plans and all that good stuff.

Chocolate may even get involved.

I assumed, because my experience with romance novels and chick flicks told me it would happen this way, that Mark would propose on Valentine’s Day. And so, I planned accordingly.

A few weeks before the big weekend, I made lasagna at home. It was no Pioneer Woman dish at that point, but it was (and still is) Mark’s favorite thing I make. I froze two servings and took them back to school.

I like planning events, and this Valentine’s Day was to be quite the event. I had a white sheet to use as a tablecloth, and I draped it over a coffee table from the dorm lounge. I [illegally] lit candles and had a bag salad ready to dump into a bowl. My friend Nicole picked up breadsticks from Fazoli’s, and I had an elaborate plan to get Mark out of my room while I threw it all together.

Except . . . my plan didn’t work out quite right. I asked Mark to return a couple movies I’d rented, but when he got to his car, he realized he needed directions. So he came back up to my room and knocked on the door.

Because I thought it was Nicole, delivering the breadsticks, I opened the door without a thought. And Mark saw me with scissors in my hands and rose petals scattered behind me.

He thought I was mad at him and destroying the flowers he’d brought me!

I was actually cutting open the bag of shredded cheese for the salad, and the rose petals were to decorate our makeshift table. From a rose I’d bought myself.

We laughed when he came back and told me what he'd thought, but I was so sad that he’d been worried. (And I was worried that he thought I was such a crazy woman that I’d cut up his beautiful flowers!)

Then to top it all off, the poor guy did not, in fact, propose. He gave me a Martina McBride CD with the song Valentine on it. The song that I’d sung at our spring concert the year before. The song that I’d really been singing to him from that stage in our high school gym.

I’m ashamed to tell you that my first reaction was not, “Awwwww! That’s so sweet!”

No, I behaved sort of like the kind of crazy woman who might cut up a bouquet of roses. I wasn’t angry or too ugly about it. But I wasn’t gracious and kind, that’s for darned sure.

We still had a great weekend together, and I am still proud of the way I pulled together that little romantic dorm dinner. (And I still love that song, by the way.)

But we would have had a much better start if I’d been giving up on perfect holidays back then!

I don’t think we’re doing anything at all for Valentine’s Day this weekend. We’ll probably rent a movie and order a $10 pizza. And I’m tossing around the idea of starting potty training. So, it’s going to be exciting.

Do you like Valentine’s Day? How will you celebrate – or boycott – the holiday this weekend?

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A Valentine's Day Date Night

One of my goals for the year is to have a monthly date with Mark. January’s almost over, and we’re not off to a good start. But next month is February, and we’d really be in trouble if we couldn’t even figure out a way to celebrate Valentine’s Day.

[Yes, cynics, I know it’s a fabricated holiday that only benefits card makers and chocolate bakers. But I’m a girl, and I like it. Got it?]

It should come as no surprise that Hollywood is offering up several options for a movie date night. (Including one called “Date Night,” strangely enough.) But after being so disappointed at the lack of movie options for my birthday, I’m still excited to have so many to choose from! Here are my (yes, predictable) favorites so far:

• Date Night
• Dear John
• Leap Year
• Valentine’s Day
• When in Rome

What about you? Do you have plans to see a movie anytime soon? Do any of these look good to you?

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My 2010 New Year's Resolutions

Image by katehra

It’s that time of year again, isn’t it? In the past week, I’ve read post after post about New Year’s resolutions. So of course I’m going to join the party.

Would you be surprised to know that I have a two-page typed document with my goals listed out with various strategies and tactics for achieving each one? Right. No. I know.

Don’t worry. I know your eyes are still bleeding from yesterday’s crazy long post. So I’ll keep this short and sweet. Here are my goals for 2010:

1. Read the Bible all the way through. I’ve never done this, so I finally did what I’ve said I should for the past couple of years: I bought a One Year Bible. Granted, it’s now the 8th and I’ve just gotten started. But I have gotten started.
2. Obtain and maintain a healthy weight. I started a water aerobics class on Monday, and I’m still a member of Weight Watchers. This is the year I will get healthy.
3. Improve our finances: live within a budget, save more and pay off some debt. I’ve already increased the amount automatically deposited to savings each month, and I’ve allocated extra paychecks to pay for car maintenance, gifts and vacation. Now it’s a matter of sticking to my revised monthly budget and figuring out how to pay for birthdays and Christmas.
4. Go on monthly dates with Mark. I’ve got most months mapped out. I’ve already bought concert tickets for April, and we’re hoping to take a trip to Chicago in May. Most months will be smaller affairs, though, like a movie or a trip to Target. You know how I love both of those outings!
5. Roll with the punches in our life with a toddler. In other words, potty training, moving to a big girl bed, working on our bedtime routine and possibly starting piano lessons. Yikes, that’s a lot of big stuff!

I’d also like to take a photography class, increase my blog traffic by providing better content and community, start a cooking club with my girlfriends, read some good books, stay fairly caught up on my scrapbooking and get a new job. But I’m not putting those on the main list. Short and sweet, remember?

Now, what about you? Have you blogged about your New Year’s resolutions and/or 2010 goals? I’d love to read it, so link up below!

If you aren’t going to blog about it, I hope you’ll still share your goals in the comments!



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Good times.

I neglected my computer over the weekend, and it kind of felt good.

It turns out that when I turn off the computer, I have a lot more time for baking and laundry and stacking blocks and laundry and running errands and laundry.

Seriously – how do three people generate so much laundry?

We had a good weekend. I rented a movie on Friday night. Yes, that’s all I’m saying right now. Just stay tuned for that review. And then somehow, miraculously, Saturday brought a rush of motivation. Do not even ask me where it came from. I don’t question it; I just go with it as long as it lasts.

Mark had planned a poker night for Saturday night, so I made him beer bread and brownies. And I only ate a few of the Doritos I bought for him. “Daddy’s chips,” Annalyn said – over and over. Until I let her eat a handful out of the Cool Ranch bag. Then she didn’t seem to mind that I’d said they belonged to Daddy!

We tried to get flu shots in the afternoon, but that didn’t work out so well. Just like getting Annalyn’s two-year shots earlier in the week didn’t work out. Apparently it was just not our week for shots.

We got to the health department three minutes too late for her regular vaccinations, and all the angry tears and forced calm explanations in the world – I work full-time and this is the earliest I can get here, and oh yeah, our insurance doesn’t cover shots at the pediatrician – didn’t budget the receptionist. And the flu shots? We were looking at a three-hour wait – just minutes before naptime. That didn’t seem like a good idea.

So basically, we’re just crossing our fingers that we don’t get sick for now. I’ll let you know how that works out.

After I helped Mark clean the house (Hey! It was his poker night!), set up his snacks and put the kiddo in bed, I left the boys to their poker and drove to Smitty’s apartment.

Did I mention that in the midst of the cleaning and the laundry and the cooking and the not getting flu shots, we also had a rip-roaring fight? The kind that made my poor, scarred-for-life daughter say, “Mommy sad. Mommy sad.”

[Sigh. Yes, baby, Mommy’s sad. And now she’s even sadder because I’m fighting in front of you. Way to go, Parents of the Year.]

I think she’ll be okay. Mainly because we resolved things well before she woke up on Sunday. You know, because we’re just that mature and loving (ha!). And maybe because my long drive to Smitty’s – and a good time eating dinner and hanging out with my bestest friend – did me some good.

I think I should take a long drive every week. Or at least a couple times a month. Seriously. There’s just something about getting in the car, rolling down the window, cranking up the stereo and speeding (only five miles over, officer, I swear) down the highway. It just makes me happy. Especially on a Saturday night, when I can find fun music on the dial (or the button, as the case may be).

From Kanye West (sorry, Taylor) to Jason Aldean to Van Halen, I was jamming. As in, if there had been a secret camera and that footage was ever shown to anyone on the face of the earth, I would just lay down and die – that kind of jamming.

It was good.

On Sunday we had church and homemade pizza and naps and Bible study. (About marriage and communication – and no, the irony was not lost on us, coming the day after a good, solid fight.)

We didn’t make it to the park, the cats may or may not have peed on the kitchen rug, and Annalyn spent two hours in the middle of the night Sunday hollering and crying and generally keeping me awake.

But it was a good weekend. How was yours?

Marriage. Marriage is what brings us together today.

Thanks to the wonders of Facebook, I found out over the weekend that one of my dearest friends has left his wife of more than a dozen years.

As I learned about his affair and the battle that’s already begun over his two children, I sobbed. I didn’t know what to say, how to react, what to feel. I just knew that nothing about this situation is okay.

And I was reminded of a couple years ago when three of our couple friends (friend couples?) got divorced, all within a few months of each other. One couple went through a very public split that involved betrayal and infidelity; another couple lost a business, their house and eventually their love for each other. The third couple just stopped fighting and moved on.

I don’t say any of this lightly. Though I was close to each of the couples I’m describing, I’m well aware that I have no idea of the pain they’ve been through. All of my friends who have experienced divorce have hurt – they’ve hurt each other and they’ve been hurt themselves – and I know they still bear the scars of broken relationships, broken promises, broken hearts.

Thinking about this, facing this – it just makes me so sad. I don’t presume to know the details of anyone else’s relationship or what is right or wrong for anyone’s life. But I do know that each of my friends made promises to God and to each other, and those promises have been broken.

I’ve broken promises, too. Mark and I have been married for 10 years (woo-hoo!), but the majority of those years have been peppered with fights and frustrations and tears and tantrums and disappointments and – hmmm, I wish I could think of something else that started with a “d.” But you get the point.

We came into marriage with expectations and assumptions, and we each let the other down in every way possible. We’re going through a Bible study about marriage right now, and the chapter we just finished talks about focusing on the good things about your spouse and ignoring the bad things. Let’s just say we had that reversed for more than a few years.

Early in our marriage, we even considered whether or not we’d made a mistake by getting married in the first place. I said I didn’t know if it would work. I thought that maybe it wouldn’t.

I’m not sure how we made it through. Not without scars of our own, that’s for sure. But somehow, we kept putting one foot in front of the other. We kept coming home to each other. We kept trying to fight it out and figure it out. We talked, we cried (Okay, I cried. Mark handed me Kleenex.), we prayed, we screamed, we planned, we promised – and then we did it all over again.

Why did we stay together? Is it that we couldn’t stand breaking our promises for good? Were we afraid of disappointing our families? Were things really not that bad?

Well, no. They were bad. We’ve had, ahem, issues. But in the end, we still loved each other. (Even when we didn’t like each other at all.) And we realized that our problems didn’t make us want to escape the relationship. Instead, they just made us anxious – no, desperate – to fix what had gone wrong.

I am not judging my friends or anyone else who has ended a marriage. I know that it’s only by the grace of God that I have not been in their shoes. Those situations break my heart, but they also remind me of how blessed I am. I spent the afternoon after learning about my friend’s affair patting my husband on the arm, just making sure he knows that I’m still here, and that I’m glad he’s still here, too.

A few of my friends have written some beautiful posts recently about marriage, and I want to share them with you.

• Lisa-Jo wrote about expectations and the Prince Charming myth.
• Sarah wrote about her affair and how God redeemed her – and her marriage.
• And Alece shared the story of her husband’s betrayal and how she’s picking up the pieces.

I also want to hear from you, about your relationships, about your experience. How have you made it through tough times in your marriage?

First comes Homecoming, then comes marriage...

Fifteen years ago today (or yesterday by the time most of you read this), I went on my first date. And it just happened to be with my husband.

Thankfully, my mother was handy with the camera that night. For posterity. And the torture of teenage girls.

Despite the look of great annoyance on my face, I had a good time on that first date. Mark took me to dinner and our school's Homecoming dance. He talked constantly and then later told me that he was afraid I was too quiet. (If only he'd known...!) We danced together twice - to Seal's Kissed by a Rose and an embarrassing Boyz II Men song that was popular at the time.

After the dance, we went to my friend Jammie's house to hang out with several of my friends. If I remember correctly, we were the only ones who had actually gone to the dance, so I stood out in my skirt and - I know - pantyhose. (It didn't help that Mark's version of dance-appropriate attire was jeans and a button-up. Don't even get my mom started on how annoyed she was that we spent hours - HOURS! - shopping for a perfect outfit, and he showed up in jeans.) Luckily my friend had some sweats and a t-shirt I could change into. So fashionable, I was.

We played pool and ate junk food and hung out. I'm not sure what "hanging out" really entailed. Mostly just feeling awkward having my first date guy there with all my friends, including one guy who insisted on making fun of me the entire night. (Thank you, high school guy friend who surely doesn't remember this night like I do. You made an awkward evening even more awkward.)

After the dinner, the dance and the party, Mark drove me home. After all, my 6-foot-tall mother had made sure to intimidate him into a concrete commitment to my midnight curfew.

He pulled into my driveway. I think I said something about having a nice time or thank you for dinner or something. I distinctly remember gripping the door handle. And then, woof!

All of a sudden, his face was in my face. Yes, he kissed me. On the first date. Apparently, I'm that kind of girl. (But only with Mark!)

So, there it is. My first date story. Nothing terribly exciting, but it's mine. Now I want to hear yours. Tell us about your first date in the comments - or link up a post on your blog below!

You Can’t Always Get What You Want

Sing it with me, now: “But if you try sometimes, you just might find you get what you need.”

Next week, we are going on a family vacation. Mark and I fly to Orlando on Sunday, spend a few days avoiding the Mouse and soaking up the Florida humidity sunshine, then head north to join my parents, Annalyn, and my brother and sister-in-law. My great aunt and uncle live in a little town in southern Georgia, and we’ll spend a few days with them.

After we’ve had all the family togetherness we can stand – and then some, I’m sure – we’ll get on a plane with Annalyn and fly home.

[Side note: Should you be a thief reading my blog (and really, if you are, I have to ask: why?), I’ll just warn you. My very sweet friend Erin will be stopping by often to feed my cats. And we have extremely nosy protective neighbors. So, I guarantee it is not worth breaking in to find that, seriously, one of my prized possessions truly is a 20-year-old VCR.]

Sorry ‘bout that. Just needed to get the public service announcement portion of this blog post out of the way. Now, where were we?

Oh yes. Something about wants and needs and 95-degree heat.

We are so excited for this trip. As you might recall, we planned this getaway to celebrate my 30th birthday and our 10th anniversary. Granted, our original plan was Jamaica . . . and our second plan was San Diego . . . but really, anywhere with a beach and no work and, for a few days, no kiddo will be all the fun we need.

So far, the plans include a trip to Discovery Cove, Sea World (thank you, Facebook friends, for voting in my poll!) and the beach. We might check out Downtown Disney, the town of Celebration or the Space Center.

But we’re keeping our options open. After 10 years of marriage, we’re still two wild and crazy kids, so the possibilities are endless.

Umm, okay, actually – at least one of us was never wild and crazy. So we’ll probably visit the Space Center. That’s pretty much a museum, right? And, okay, we might also pass out and simply sleep for 12 hours. Who knows?

Let me say it again: we are beside ourselves excited about this trip!

But a couple weeks ago, I couldn’t stop myself from focusing on all the things I’m not going to get to do, thanks to this vacation.

First of all, I don’t get to see Dierks Bentley in a free concert downtown. Smitty and I went last year, and he put on a great show. For FREE! But Mark missed it, thanks to this thing called a job. So when I saw that Dierks was coming back this summer and doing the same free show, I thought, “Oh, good! Mark can plan ahead and take the day off!” I was all sorts of happy about this. Until I saw the date – smack dab in the middle of our vacation. Of course! Of course Dierks would come to my town when I’m in someone else’s town!

Then, Chelley informs me that she and Mel are coming down to KC for a baseball game. Oh, great! You can stay with us! Yippee! Wait for it . . . yes. You’re right. They’re coming the week we’re out of town. Because apparently, it’s important to see a certain team play the Royals. (Perhaps I should point out here that Chelley and Mel are baseball fans and I, surprisingly, am not?)

Finally, as if these two blows weren’t enough, let me tell you a little story about a man named Shaun Groves. See, Shaun is a contemporary Christian singer – or, as he calls himself, a soft rock star. And, oh yeah, he’s also a big proponent of releasing children from poverty.

These days, Shaun travels all around, both overseas to see and share the work of Compassion and around the country to give free concerts and talk about Compassion. And a few months ago, he wrote on his blog that he was looking for places to give concerts this summer.

Well, I immediately contacted our worship pastor and said, so politely, “We must. Do this.” And he, ever so politely, said, “Great idea, but it’s not going to work right now.” Because I am pushy annoying persistent, I even had the nerve to ask a second time. But that guy stood firm: it’s not a good plan for our church right now. Okay, fine, I’ll survive. Even though I’m sad.

But then. Then! I see a comment on Shaun’s blog that mentions him playing a show . . . in a couple weeks . . . in Thomasville. Whaaaa? That little town in southern Georgia that my great aunt and uncle live in? Um, yeah – it’s called Thomasville. And we’re going to be there in a couple weeks! So I scour the Internet and finally track down my answer. Here's what I discover: Shaun Groves is playing one of his awesome free concerts / Compassion talks . . . in Thomasville, Georgia . . . on June 27.

In case this crazy long story has made you lose your mind or at least forget when and where I’m going next week, let me explain. Shaun Groves’ concert will take place 5 days before I get to Thomasville.

So close. And yet . . .

But you know what? I’m pretty sure that despite these things I’m going to miss, we are still going to have one amazing anniversary trip/family vacation.

I’ve got my flip flops, my sunscreen and two great books. I’ve got my baby packed and her bag is stocked with lots of snacks and toys for her first flight (eeek!). And I’ve got the most awesome husband I could ask for, holding my hand, ready to hit the road.

It turns out, the Rolling Stones might be right. You can’t always get what you want. But sometimes God blesses us with exactly what we need.

You’re mowing the yard? Okay, I’ll empty the dishwasher.

We’re all about equity of workload at our house. So when we reached Sunday evening of this busy weekend and Mark said he’d mow the yard, of course my contribution was taking five minutes to empty the dishwasher.

Never mind that my to-do/wish list for the weekend had no less than 27 items, while his simply read, “Mow the yard.”

Ah well, it doesn’t really matter. When it came down to it, we decided to just lay on the couch and watch a movie. As anyone with a yard or dishes knows, it will all be there in the morning.

We had a great anniversary weekend. Despite a scare with a rash, Annalyn was healthy enough to spend the weekend with my parents. (According to our pediatrician’s nurse, the rash was roseola, which apparently is harmless. And it went away after a day or two.)

I began the weekend by taking full advantage of my Friday evening alone, doing such wild and crazy things as going to Hobby Lobby and Archiver’s to shop for scrapbooking supplies, driving through Burger King and splurging on a Whopper Jr., balancing my checkbook and watching Stacy and Clinton give Blossom a makeover. I was living the life, I tell you.

For our big anniversary date day, Mark and I drove over to Columbia. We didn’t go to school there, although we both wanted to at various points in our lives, but we did live 90 minutes north. In the middle of nowhere. So we spent those early years of our marriage traveling to Columbia whenever we needed to shop at a mall, see a movie in a theater with more than three screens or take a random road trip on a lazy Saturday afternoon.

More than once during our day, I noticed how we didn’t lack for topics of conversation. I love that. I love that even after all these years, we still want to talk to each other. Of course, even though our drive there was full of talking and laughing, our drive back was more jamming to the oldies on the radio and sitting in comfortable (or, for me, falling asleep) silence.

We ate lunch at a winery near Columbia. I’d made sure to have reservations, because I saw that they were having an arts and crafts festival there on Saturday. Turns out we didn’t need reservations and the festival may not have been the most successful of events, but, oh well. Our lunch was great, and the bartender was kind enough to take our picture. And even though we laughed at the fancy-schmany menu that used about 12 words to describe mashed potatoes, even Mark enjoyed the "frou-frou crap" that we ordered.

Gorgonzola cheesecake with tomato basil coulis and toasted Tuscan bread. In other words, yummmmmm!

Then we headed on in to Columbia, but since it was a crazy 90-something degrees out, we decided to figure out a Plan B. (Plan A was walking around downtown, checking out all the little shops and maybe getting some ice cream.) Plan B turned out to be doing a little shopping at the mall (Yes, we have malls here, but how often do we get to shop without a stroller and diaper bag along for the ride?) and then seeing a movie.

After taking in our old person (but cheap!) matinee, we headed downtown to walk around. The sun wasn’t so high, and the weather was a bit more tolerable. Of course, by then, the stores were mostly closed, so we just walked for a few blocks, admired the many bikes parked outside the many bars and dodged a few smelly hippies. (Ah, how I love college towns!)

And then, the best part of our day: Shakespeare’s. See, the whole reason for Saturday’s field trip was to eat cheap pizza and snag some new plastic cups. And eat pizza and get cups we did. Because we're classy that way. (Hey! We did start the day at a winery!) Anyway. We also sat and watched the college kids walk around and wondered if we’d ever really been that young. And we debated whether we like Shakespeare’s pizza because it’s good or because it reminds us of that fun time in life. And as we remembered that we'd always said we'd like to live in Columbia someday, we considered whether or not a college town would be a good place to raise a family. And that led us to look through all the pictures of Annalyn on our camera and talk about how much we missed her.

Here's our pizza. I considered showing you the empty pan that we were left with afterwards. But that's just too embarassing!

Things have changed, I guess. But you know, that pizza was delicious. So maybe some things stay the same. All in all, it was a good weekend, and we vowed to do it more often.

But first I’d better go empty the dishwasher.

What's your favorite place to get pizza? And how was your weekend?

I Do.

The first time Mark asked me to marry him, I was 16 years old. We were both in high school, and I was pretty sure he was joking.

Three years later, he asked again. This time, with a ring that I’d picked out and a spaghetti dinner he was so proud of.

I said yes both times.

Mark and I began as an unlikely couple, way back in 1994. As one classmate so delicately put it, what was a goody two shoes (that would be me) doing with such a troublemaker (yes, that was Mark)?

She was right. Rude, but right. And yet, somehow, it did work. We worked.

Today is the 10th anniversary of our wedding. That stressful, exciting, exhausting, wonderful, emotional day seems so long ago. But at the same time, I’m quite positive it happened just last year.

(Because I cannot possibly be old enough to have been married for a decade. Right?)

Mark and I went to the same high school in a small town. We were only two years apart, but we didn’t exactly run in the same crowd. (Although, it turns out, he was neighbors with my best friend, Smitty, and another best friend, David. And cousins with one of my best girlfriends, Kimi. I said it was a Small Town.)

We met at a football game, where I learned that Mark had a crush on one of my friends. Three of us sophomores talked to this senior, hinting that we wanted a ride to the big party taking place after the game. My friend Mindy and I chickened out in the end, because, well, you remember the goody two shoes remark from earlier, right?

But it seems I made an impression on young Mark anyway. I’d like to think it was my beauty and wit (I remember liking him most of all because he laughed at my jokes. Because I’m funny, people!) . . . but I have a feeling it might have been the annoying way I kept singing the song that was stuck in my head that night. It was 1994, so it could have been worse. I could have sung Sheryl Crow or [shudder] Crash Test Dummies. But instead, I sang – over and over and over – What’s Going On by 4 Non Blondes.

Anyway, our first date was the Homecoming Dance. It was also my first date. And . . . as my mother dragged out of me the next morning, my first kiss.

[Cue the “awwww.”]

We dated all through high school and through my first two years of college. Unless you count the time I tried to break up with him. Or the time he tried to break up with me. Oh, the drama, the angst, the tears. The beauty of a long-distance relationship.

Since we didn’t deal so well with the long-distance (while I was in college, and he was working at home), we decided the only logical thing to do was get married.

I was 19 when we made that decision. A freshman in college. You can just imagine how excited my mom was.

But get married we did. And I finished college. And we moved. And changed jobs. And fought – a lot. And figured out how to live with each other. And remembered how to laugh together. And learned how to cry together.

Just being honest here.

In the last ten years, we’ve lived in three apartments, two duplexes and one house. We’ve gone to more funerals than I want to remember, including his mom’s. I graduated from college, started graduate school, quit graduate school. Mark started and stopped college a handful of times. We’ve both lost jobs. We shared dreams, wishes, ideas, plans and prayers. We adopted two cats. We had a beautiful baby girl. We traveled to Seattle, Colorado, Branson, Florida, Virginia and Tennessee. And, oh yeah, more than a few road trips to Kansas, Des Moines and St. Louis.

We’ve racked up credit card debt – and paid it off. We’ve planted a church – and left several churches. We’ve made friends and lost friends. We’ve said things we regret, left things unsaid that should have been spoken, thrown things across the room and stormed out of the house in anger. And we’ve taken classes and gone to seminars and sat through counseling and read books – and learned how to live and love better than we ever thought possible.

Mark is an amazing man – a loving, accepting and forgiving, helpful, funny man. He has supported me through all sorts of ups and downs, and he’s helped me grow into a better person. He’s an incredible father, and the best husband I could want.

And he’s still making me spaghetti dinners to be proud of.

Happy anniversary, Mark. I love you – a lot.

It's kind of like an anniversary video. But not.

If I were just a little more tech savvy, I'd put together a great slide show to commemorate this occasion. One set to music. Yeah, that's what I'd do.

But since I'm not, I won't.

Instead, I give you a link to Dan Seals' One Friend, one of the songs we had sung at our wedding and a sentiment that's even more true today than it was then.

And, of course, a whole bunch of pictures.

As you can see, I was quite excited for my mother
to take a picture on my first date. Soooo embarassing at the time!
(And yes, of course I love the fact that I have it now!)

Mark's senior prom, 1995. Yes, all of that hair is mine.

It was quite the trend at our high school to get professional couple photos taken.
And by "professional," of course, I mean Sears. This was the fall of 1995.

My junior prom, 1996. My hair is pulled back in a banana clip,
because I just could not handle another prom night of bobby pins and hairspray.

My senior prom, 1997. Yes, I am quite pale, thank you.

My cousin Sarah's wedding, October 1996.
Because everyone looks beautiful in sleeves like that.

My dorm had a formal dance. Spring 1998.
My roommate decided to lay on the floor to take this flattering photo.

The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society black tie ball,
one of many work functions Mark has attended with me in the last decade.

Fall 2005. Or maybe 2004. After you've been married this long, it all blurs together.

Taking a nap during our fishing trip to Canada. I don't remember feeling happier than normal, but when I look at the pictures from that trip, I can see it. I see how happy Mark and I were to just be together.

The Three Amigos: Mark, Smitty and me at the Coors brewery in Colorado.

Honest, we don't drink that much beer. But apparently we document each occasion when we do!
Smitty, Mark and me at a concert a few years ago.

The Three Amigos (and a few others) partying like it's 1999 . . . in 2008.

And a family was born. October 8, 2007.

Another hospital photo. Because we were there for a long time.

Christmas 2007. We still weren't sleeping much then.

Summer 2008. Life was getting fun right around this time.

Christmas 2008. Mom and Dad had a great time figuring out the new tripod. Annalyn was not amused.

Thanks for taking this walk down memory lane with me. Have a great weekend!