My Dad called me up last night and asked if the kids would like to come up and watch “Roger Ramjet.”

I told him I had never heard of it.
Have you?

Dad sang the theme song for me which, while entertaining, didn’t clue me in at all… I had never heard of it. After the kids cleaned their room, we headed up to watch.
We all laughed so hard -the humor in it is classic.

In the middle of the show, the girl was asked to take off her Grandpa’s boots. This might seem insignificant to you, but to US -those of us raised under Dad’s roof -it really means something. Dad used to pay us a quarter a boot to take his boots off. Now we’ve jumped a generation.

And due to inflation, the laborer now gets $1 a boot.
It’s hard work… not to be taken lightly. If done right, it can exhaust you!

Now go pop a proton pill and fight some crooks!
My daily crooks today are disguised as laundry, dishes, a dirty floor, and a basin full of jalapeno peppers waiting to be canned.

As my husband and I walked out of the movie theater Saturday night, we had a lot to talk about. “The Help” is the kind of movie that stays with you and gets you thinking. It teaches while it entertains. As we walked through the parking lot and made our way back to the Bed and Breakfast, my husband talked about racism. I talked about the housewives.

(image via movies.zap2it.com)

The housewives were all so “perfect.” Their hair was always in place, their clothes were always perfectly worn and perfectly accessorized. Their houses were clean and they always had food on the table.
And YET.
All I had to say about them was how dysfunctional they were! Their attitudes -their actions and behaviors were so far from healthy.
So WHY do I hold myself to their standards every single day?
Why do I hold myself to the standards of dysfunctional women who look gorgeous every single day but don’t clean their own house, raise their own children, or cook food for their family?
They had a maid, for crying out loud! And I spend every day carrying guilt when I don’t somehow meet up to their standards. Isn’t that ridiculous? It is -but I’m sure I’m not the only one.
There have been a few glorious days when I’ve looked smashing, cooked smashing food, and cleaned my house like there was no tomorrow.
And at the end of the day, there was NOTHING left of me. My husband came home to what I thought was his (and my) ideal, and there was nothing for him but some tasty food (which, let’s face it, only goes so far).
And so I laughed at myself, heartily, as we drove back to our room.
Do you know what? I’m a terrible housekeeper, but I’m a good cook. I’m lousy at prioritizing, but I’m a good mom. I don’t look perfect every day, but I get my make-up on most days.
And isn’t THAT the ideal: a tricky sort of balance between what I can and can’t do? Truth be told, I could really use a cleaning lady, but I’ll get by for now. I’m not terrible at it, you know. It’s just that there’s 3 of them and one of me.
It won’t always be like that.
Someday there will be four of them and one of me. Ha!

All I’m trying to say is: ease up on yourself today. Stare your limits in the face and then give them a great, big hug. We are not all made to be perfect. We’re made to help each other on the road TO perfection, and what could be better than that?
Nothing.
Not even a sparkling clean house, freshly manicured nails, and a fresh peach pie on the table.

Two years ago, I wrote a post for our 5 year anniversary on my now-private blog.  I’m going to re-post it and add to it tonight, and then I’m going to go pack for my weekend whisk-away (which sounds much more delicious than get-away).

Enjoy, loves.

2004-2005
The Green Glass Love

“Now in this case, my dear, I truly do prefer emeralds. But we could have made it on green glass.”
Muzzie in Thoroughly Modern Millie

There is a scene in Thoroughly Modern Mille when Muzzie tells Millie that when she became engaged to Mr. Van-H, she had no idea he was multi-millionaire (she really hadn’t). One night he gave her a green glass broach. She lent to broach to a friend who wanted to impress a new beau. The beau turned out to be a jeweler and the green glass turned out to be emeralds.
For the first year of our marriage, Danny and I developed a beautiful Green Glass Love. We didn’t have a lick of cash, and we tried to care. But we didn’t. Not really. So many people told us that the first year would be the hardest. If that’s true, it’s more than safe to say that our marriage will be ridonkulously easy.

2005-2006
The Movie Rentals

Joe Fox: You know, sometimes I wonder…
Kathleen Kelly: What?
Joe Fox: Well… if I hadn’t been Fox Books and you hadn’t been The Shop Around the Corner, and you and I had just, well… met…
Kathleen Kelly: I know.
Joe Fox: Yeah. I would have asked for your number, and I wouldn’t have been able to wait twenty-four hours before calling you and saying, “Hey, how about… oh, how about some coffee or, you know, drinks or dinner or a movie… for as long as we both shall live?”
Kathleen Kelly: Joe…
Joe Fox: And you and I would have never been at war. And the only thing we’d fight about would be which video to rent on a Saturday night.
Kathleen Kelly: Well, who fights about that?
Joe Fox: Well, some people. Not us.
Kathleen Kelly: We would never. 
You’ve Got Mail
The second year of our marriage, we spent our spare time wrapped in each other’s arms watching rented movies. We lived for it, which is a little sad and also a little wonderful. On days when we really just want to spend a little time together, we wander to a near-by movie rental store and rent our hearts out. If we can’t agree on a movie, we browse the westerns and inevitably come out with something we both want. Yee haw.

2006-2007
The Loss That Brought More Than It Took

“Happiness in marriage is entirely a matter of chance. If the dispositions of the parties are ever so well known to each other, or ever so similar before-hand, it does not advance their felicity in the least. They always continue to grow sufficiently unlike afterwards to have their share of vexation; and it is better to know as little as possible of the defects of the person with whom you are to pass your life.”
Charlotte Lucas, Pride and Prejudice

It might seem silly to someone who has never miscarried to mark an entire year of marriage by it. But our second and third year of marriage was spent hoping for a baby. When we lost the baby, our love for each other deepened and our desire to have a baby grew enormously. Danny wanted so badly to take the hurt away. It was a hard time for both of us (the day after I miscarried, Danny had double hernia surgery) but we look back on the week after we lost the baby as one of the best in our marriage. During that week, I gave him a card that read: I love doing nothing with you.
And while we have grown apart is some silly ways, we have grown together in deeper ways.
Maybe he doesn’t want to hold my hand all the time anymore but it doesn’t matter. He literally puts his life on the line everyday for me and our children. I’ll take that over hand-holding any day.

2007-2008
The New Parents

“Before a man marries, he’s … like a tree in the forest. He stands there independent; An entity unto himself. Then he’s chopped down, loses his branches and bark. Lands in the river. Then he’s taken to the mill. When he comes out, he’s no longer a tree. He’s the vanity table, the breakfast nook, the baby crib, and the newspaper that lines the garbage can.”
Brad Allen, Pillow Talk
Lacy was born is 2007, and Trent was born in 2008. Somewhere between the two, Danny became the baby crib and the newspaper that lines the garbage can. And you know what? He’s never been happier to do anything in his life. For he’s a Jolly Good Fellow. And for that, I thank him so profusely it’s almost obnoxious.

2008-2009
Remembering What Was

 

“I want a guy I can look up to and admire. But I don’t want him to browbeat me. I want a guy who’ll be sweet with me but I don’t want him to baby me either. I just want to feel that whoever I marry has some real regard for me, aside from all that lovin’ stuff.”
Marilyn Monroe, Bus Stop
Today marks our five year anniversary, and this quote sums up my feelings perfectly. I treasure all of the hand holding, constant snuggling, note-writing, and romantic husband I knew for four years. He’s changed. And I’ve changed. And I’m excited about where we are now. We’re comfortable. We’re secure.
I never thought the man I married could get any better, but he has.
To me, he is everything.
I hope he knows that.
Happy Fifth Anniversary, Mister.
When I say “I love you” now, it means so much more than it did five years ago.
Though it sounds the same, it feels mighty different.

 

2009-2010
The Year of the Schedule

Aunt Josephine: Make a little room in your plans for romance again, Anne, girl. All the degrees and scholarships in the world can’t make up for the lack of it.
Anne of Green Gables Series

With one kid on my hip and one kid at my side, it sure wasn’t easy to remind my husband of the girl he married. Strange how when it’s hard to make time for love, you need it more than ever. It’s always been important to us to get at least one weekend away a year. By tradition, that weekend has always been our anniversary. Would the money we spend on our annual trip be better spent somewhere else? No. No way. Not for us. For us, it is VITAL. Last year, we got away twice. Two weekends away, just the two of us. And when my cell phone is off, my computer is as home, the kids are under the care of someone else entirely trustworthy, I can spend a little time talking to my husband. I can spend time curling my hair and applying my make-up carefully. There’s no flour my jeans and there’s no bag of garbage by the door waiting to be taken out. In fact, reality is somewhere far, far away. And per tradition, we make time to just be in love.

2010-2011
The Hardy Years

Aunt Eller: Oh, lots of things happen to folks. Sickness or being poor and hungry, being old and a feared to die. That’s the way it is, cradle to grave, and you can stand it. There’s just one way: you gotta be hardy. You gotta be. You can’t deserve the sweet and tender in life unless’n you’re tough.
Oklahoma!
Our marriage isn’t perfect. Our marriage isn’t easy. But oh how I love it.
Oh how I love him.
I guess I wouldn’t know how good we had it unless I knew how bad we had it sometimes. And so we bravely step into the unknown and infamous 7th year -the year that is supposed to be one of the hardest.
Here’s to being hardy.
Here’s to being married.
Here’s to a good whisk-away!

I love you, Brother Deets. You always have a way of driving me crazy in so many ways it’s downright wonderful.

There’s been a few times in my life when someone will confide in me that a certain song helped to carry them through a difficult time in their life. Though music has always had a profound influence in my life -indeed, it was my college major and practically consumed me -I’ve never really had that experience.
I’d been touched my music -moved my music.
But I’d never been pulled through by it.

I felt a little cheated, in a way. I felt like of ALL people, I should. I mean, I’d taken private music lessons for a few years, majored in music and let it figuratively EAT MY HEAD off. I’d stared at chords, spent hours on one page of music, memorized measures, marched in a marching band, tapped my foot incessantly while counting beats, learned to conduct, learned to analyze, spent annoying amounts of money on camps, sheet music, instrument repair…
and I had no life line song to show for it.

I know that line of thinking is ridiculous. Did I go through all of that JUST to have a song to cling to? Of course not. I did to find a husband!
Okay, that’s not true.
But it did happen.

I guess I just felt a little… what’s the word… robotic about music. Three years of counting and schooling had virtually pulled the emotion out of it for me.

Anyway, I guess I had never had anything really HAPPEN to me -nothing that I needed pulled out of, really. Whenever I’d had a hard go of anything, I had always just pulled myself out.

But life has a way of foiling you. It has a way of challenging you -throwing you down to your knees (whether it’s because you’re too weak to stand or because you’re praying your heart out. Or both. Usually both in my case).

As a younger girl, I sat with my Dad and watched a movie on television.
It was called “Coal Miner’s Daughter” and it told the story of a woman named Loretta Lynn. I’d never heard of her before, and after watching the movie I couldn’t believe I never had. I don’t remember the movie much at all -but I remember how the movie made me feel, and as a result I’ve been a real fan of Loretta’s music since then.
Recently, I’ve spent more time delving into her music.

A few of her songs touch me pointedly -but it’s her, really. It’s her.
She looks like she could be anyone’s neighbor in town, and she sings like it too.

She was born in 1935 -during The Great Depression. She was married very very young (some say 13, some say 14) to a 21-year old army vet. By the time she was 19, she had four kids. Her husband wasn’t a grade-A gentleman by any means. Between his alcoholism and (what I like to call) chain cheating, Loretta had a lot to deal with.

And that’s exactly what I love about her.

Have you ever seen her smile? It lights up her entire face, and there’s LIFE behind it. Could she have shriveled up as a victim? Yes! Would anyone have judged her? Not in the least.
But she didn’t. She didn’t leave her husband. She even went so far as to say, “he never hit me one time that I didn’t hit him back twice”.
That’s what I love about her. NOT that she hits, but that she’s strong. She didn’t wilt before her husband -she stood up for herself constantly.
When you look at her, do you see a victim? A survivor? A martyr?

Absolutely not. Though the terms might apply, they don’t define her. What defines her?
She’s a real woman -unafraid, strong, and funny.
Her songs are full of humor that both gets to the point and makes you laugh.

She took the actions of another and used them to fuel her inspiration when she could have easily used them as a crutch.
She kept her humor. She kept her faith. She kept true to herself.
And she sang songs that sometimes get me through the day.
This one, written by Shel Silverstein, is one of my favorites. Someday when I get pregnant again, I’ll strap on a guitar, balance it on my belly and sing it.

As a fun side note: when she was 24 (and had all those kiddos), her husband bought her a guitar. She taught herself to play and went on to top the charts time after time.

Turns out our Daddies were both 6’3″.

And the best news of all? She has a cookbook. She titled it “You’re Cookin’ It Country” (a play on one of her chart toppers “You’re Lookin’ at Country”).
It’s going in my Amazon cart to-day.

For about a year now, I’ve set Monday aside. It’s my “day off” since we all know that Sunday -what should be a day off for Mom’s -really isn’t a day off at all. Between getting kids dressed, clothes pressed, diapers messed… it’s just tiring. If we’re lucky, we get a nap and we need it. After getting Sunday dinner on the table then off the table, we’re worn out.

So I staked claim to Monday. I don’t plan anything if I can help it.
And I don’t feel guilty for watching a movie in the middle of the day.
Or heading outside instead of fixing dinner:

While Trenton slept, the girl and I ventured outside. I sat down under a tree, leaned my back against it, held her on my lap, and asked her to close her eyes.
“What do you hear?” I asked.
“Birds. A train…” she said.
“I hear the wind making the leaves move.” I said. We opened our eyes and went hunting for leaves. I taught her about the “lines” in the leaves and how they use those lines to get their food and water from the tree to grow bigger. We found leaves with bug-eaten holes in them. We found dead leaves. We found thin leaves, thick leaves, crunchy leaves, baby leaves…
And smack dab in the middle of The Great Leaf Hunt, we found a giant dead moth.

TREASURE!
We flipped it over and counted it’s legs and the ribbing on it’s body. We found it’s eyes and talked about its wings.
Lacy wanted to keep it, so she emptied her purse.

And put it in:

Trenton woke up, heard us outside and joined us for Leaf Hunting and Dead Moth Marveling.

Then the worst happened: the dead moth’s brittle wing broke.

And all at once, The Dead Moth wasn’t interesting anymore. I was asked to babysit while the kids went back to hunting leaves.

Trent hunted with his Black and Decker Jr. Saws.

And I laid down. A few seconds after I got comfortable, Lacy declared, “MOM! You’re having a baby!”
“What?” I said.
“I hafta cut it out with a stick!”

The stick, it turned out, WAS the baby. And her name was Perla Girl.
Soon after Perla Girl made her entrance into the world, Trenton delivered Perla Boy… also a stick.
As I held my two new babies next to me, my kids fixed me up. As it turned out, I had a broken leg, broken arm, broken toe AND a broken ear. No worries, though. It wasn’t anything that couldn’t be fixed by a couple of glow sticks and a toy hammer.

Meet the babies and the leaf I got for being “such a good girl” during all of my surgeries:

Of course, no one should have a baby without a BABY SHOWER, and Lacy made sure I got one. She even grabbed my camera.
“We hafta take a picture of you opening your present!” She said.

It was a sock full of rocks which turned out to be JUST what the babies needed:

(excuse the blurry picture, it was taken while my darling boy shook me.)
And just then, like magic, the neighbors drove by with their cow:

“HI, SISTER DEETS!” The kids yelled from inside the truck.
“I’M GOING TO BE A MONSTER FOR HALLOWEEN!” Lacy yelled back.

Yesterday, one of those same neighbors (a ten-year old boy who takes piano lessons from me) helped Lacy bug hunt for 30 minutes. The spoils were incredible and included TWO dragon flies.
Did you know my sweet, delicate girl can catch flies with her bare hands? She snatches them up by the wing.

Ahhhh, Mondays. Everyone needs a “day off” at least once a week.