married with kids
August 11, 2013 § 50 Comments
A lecture lead to a book, which resulted in an apology that started a conversation. The lecture was given by the author of a book whose subject is parenting a teenager. The apology came from my husband and then from me. The conversation: how we parent our children with actions and words that create a subtext for love and marriage, respect and compassion. And visa versa.
This belief that parenting and marriage are connected by demonstrations of respect and love, kindness and compassion is not new. In fact, I would say that our mantra as parents is centered in an intentional commitment to Do Better; better than our parents, better than other parents, better than ourselves. We fall asleep mindful of our errors and wake conscious of our goals. Still, in action we sometimes fail with one another to model what we most believe; tired or hurt we speak defensively and act unkindly to the very person we promise to share our life with.
I speak only of my experience, from my perspective.
All of my parenting books and good intentions are balanced by my errors. Kind words unraveled by actions, values disproportionate to deeds. I am the sum of my behavior and my children mirror this truth. I teach as I learn and between knowing there are moments of brilliant ignorance. The greatest lessons in our marriage as parents have been those that come to us as we regained our footing, dusting off the sharp corners of our emotions to see where we fell. For my husband and I, most recently, we found that place in a book that highlighted how we behave in moments of frustration.
If I were to itemize our errors they are last words, criticism, and blame. We balance these with apologies, but the contradictions in our words create doubt. Knowing this, the predictable potential for harm in moments of unpredictable chaos, we can practice new expectations to lend one another the compassion and kindness we endeavor to teach. Where we lack patience we must learn to exercise silence to better hear and more consciously choose our words so as to create conversations that foster greater understanding in place of arguments that assign blame.
Where once we were two, we are four. Individuals, Partners, Parents, and Students in an experience that challenges us daily to look outside ourselves while demanding we look honestly and directly at ourselves. My husband and I are modeling for our son and daughter the partner they may become as they grow into a future of choices that reflect their experiences as our children and witnesses to our marriage. For this, I can do better.
acting out & standing up
May 23, 2013 § 4 Comments
Sometimes I feel my husband and I slipping into familiar roles unnatural to our expectations; fragmented statements and disconnected actions out of harmony with our intentions. The foreignness of our behavior is balanced by the familiarity of the exchange, footsteps in a dance we know but whose music comes from another place. Insecurities from old relationships whose harm is hidden behind scars only we see.
We carry within us our experiences as someone’s child, another’s sibling, friendships and relationships whose memories, joys and harm, rest within us. In moments we do not always recognize, a word spoken shuffles old emotions to the surface and we react from a place not present but past.
Recently a disagreement seemed to strike the tender places of my heart like memories too faded to outline with words. By the time we had reconciled our emotions I felt too hollow to give what I did not hold within. There was no defensiveness or anger, just a sense of loss.
This experience of harm and healing is ongoing, tenderness challenging emotions hidden beneath benign words. The false comfort of time undermines effort, relationships endure with intent rather than assumptions. We accept our partner’s flaws alongside their strengths, becoming our best selves to better the life between us in a never-ending act of loving.
I suppose this is my love letter to those pieces of my personality and my husband’s that create unrest, that call us to embrace each disagreement and misunderstanding with a commitment to lend kindness before anger, to offer understanding alongside our wish to be understood. Standing up for the person across from us even as we act out, changing the footwork to an old dance in the middle of our song.
ever after
February 25, 2013 § 4 Comments
A friend’s daughter is getting married and the first refrains of territorial claims over endless choices triggered memories of my own wedding. From the beginning my husband and I didn’t want a wedding, we were already planning for the family we had begun and our hearts and minds were full of bigger choices; houses and baby names dwarfed reception menus and song titles. Our day was crafted out of good intentions and false assumptions, the imperfect moments more true to life than the ceremony that bound us together.
Intentions and assumptions often distort the scale of our troubles. This morning our breakfast table tumbled out of harmony over spilled cereal. I can guarantee that each of the four members of our family experienced the morning’s discontent differently lost to their own perspective with the same certainty that I know weddings are not about flowers or cake.
We photograph the beautiful moments while learning most about one another in the uncomfortable moments. Anger and sadness are guards against tenderness when we are our most vulnerable. So often our holidays and anniversaries are laden with vulnerability stretched between expectations and intentions. In everyday moments responsibilities, fatigue, and miscommunication similarly create conflict.
Over the years, my husband and I have exchanged countless words. Most of them with less consideration than I poured into our vows. Emotional and honest, there is little poetry to these exchanges but they are the very foundation for where we stand.
Today, on the eve of our anniversary and following a morning tinged with chords of disharmony I am most grateful for the unspoken committment between us, the silent promises to weather difficult moments mindful of our good fortune. The awareness that as we look back at our greatest challenges in marriage and family, our footsteps are always close together.
courting marriage
September 28, 2012 § 2 Comments
Twelve years of marriage and two children later, my husband and I are still dating. No longer shy or new, our familiarity is comforting. Our date nights brief reminders that we did not cease to be a couple when we grew into a family. I Do became I Will.
My greatest lesson in marriage is the unpredictability of life and the importance of growing into each new moment. In the beginning my husband and I couldn’t have imagined some of the challenges waiting around the corner from complacency. Rather than settling into quiet moments, detaching into stagnancy, we have learned to embrace pockets of serenity, centering ourselves in gratitude and gathering humor and stillness for difficult moments ahead. We fortify ourselves with time.
Date nights were not always convenient, my husband and I learned to make room for one another in simple moments. When our children were little, early bedtimes gifted us quiet hours at home. Sometimes we were grateful to get lost in a movie; other times we unraveled worries alongside dreams for our future. As our children grew to school age we borrowed time from mornings or afternoons to share a meal or embrace the peaceful silence of our home. Occasionally there is only time enough to grab a cup of coffee just before school dismisses our children to homework and extra curricular activities, mindfully we absorb these minutes with the same enthusiasm we dress for dinner out.
Our time together is woven into each week, intentionally, so that our relationship is a choice validated at each opportunity. Marriage has given my husband and I unlimited time to grow as a couple, finding new ways to celebrate the life we continue to shape for our family.
on bended knee
February 25, 2012 § Leave a comment
Tomorrow is my wedding anniversary, today I am remembering the day I became friends with the man I married. My husband and I crossed paths accidentally at an off-campus St. Patrick’s Day party two years after having met in a college English class. I was dating his friend.
I had conceded to setting aside my studies that evening just long enough to experience the festive consumption of tinted beer with strangers camouflaged in waves of green; my perfunctory attendance a compromise between my boyfriend’s plans for the evening and my disinterest. Biding my time for a discrete exit, I watched with amusement as the boy I was dating engaged the crowded apartment with his infectious good humor and easy laugh.
Then my husband took a knee. We had been classmates and the familiarity of his face was a happy surprise. Reintroducing ourselves my husband settled by my side grounding me in a comfortable conversation. In the coming weeks he would continue to appear on my dates keeping me company. The school year ended as did my relationship and we all parted ways in the early days of summer.
I celebrated a newfound independence making room for myself between work and studies, relishing solitary endeavors. I sent a note to my future husband from a place of independent contentment and so we began a conversation that covered miles between us and created a new journey in friendship.
Long phone calls and handwritten letters documented our beginning, but I always return to the simple gesture of pausing on bended knee. When my daughter sings the timeless refrain of How do you know? I share my husbands willingness to meet me patiently, resting beside me in friendship. This is how I know.
living in love
February 11, 2012 § 2 Comments
Twelve years ago my husband and I were preparing to join our lives with a new life; marriage and family beautifully intertwined by the anticipation of our first child. Mindfully we leapt from a couple into a family and our decisions were centered in an awareness that our wedding was smaller than our marriage. Similarly, romantic holidays were happy excuses to celebrate the everyday rather than an occasion to remember.
On the Valentine’s Day prior to our wedding my husband and I stood patiently waiting in a quiet office for our marriage license; the date on our application our gift to one another. Practical and sentimental this act created an expectation for our life together. We pledged to make time for romance with small gestures and celebrate our life together not only on holidays, but on overlooked everyday occasions.
I often think that the birth of our first child blessed the early days of our marriage with conscious acts of love and a genuine appreciation for simple gestures of affection. Small details of our wedding day were overshadowed by the greater miracle of a new life. When our son was born early challenges drew my husband and I closer. More than newlyweds, we were friends in love with one another and grateful for daily miracles.
Romantic holidays and anniversaries are balanced against everyday acts of love, kindness, generosity. Roses or jewelry would feel wilted and tarnished without the hours of patience, humor, and care-taking that are hallmarks of a life shared. Arguments where opinions are honored and challenges met with honest endeavors to live our best life create a sense of gratitude that cannot be contained in lines of sentiment on beautiful stationery.
As Valentine’s Day and our anniversary draw near I am remembering little gifts, large blessings, and giving thanks for years of living in love.
to my husband
November 6, 2011 § Leave a comment
Lately I am reminded of our earliest days with our son. My heart recalls the impossible goodbyes in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit, immediately lonely for our son’s company and worried about his well-being in our absence. Logically I understood the hospital was trained to care for our son’s needs, but my heart could not fathom leaving him each day. With all my doubts of late, an old question haunts me: Will he be okay?
I carry a special memory of you that I call on when uncertain or overwhelmed by a new challenge with our son. It was the first time we were allowed to hold our son. He was impossibly tiny and covered in a tangle of tubes, you were standing closest while I absorbed the sight of him. In a gesture filled with limitless love, you stepped aside and let me hold our son first. It would have been easy for you to gather him to you for a moment and then deposit him in my arms, but instead you let me hold him and I gathered him close like a salve to a tender ache. In that moment I was whole and at peace with the world, joyful. You stood patently nearby, proud and eager without complaint.
Your quiet strength and generosity allow me the unique experience of mothering from a place of authenticity. Thank you for giving me so much without asking. As I struggle to process my feelings and thoughts, be patient still. I know you are nearby, waiting without complaint.
good advice
September 4, 2011 § Leave a comment
I listen to others’ problems, absorbing emotions and weighing my words attempting to offer genuine understanding. I invest myself in their needs; consciously selecting my words to offer kindness and perspective. I am learning to follow my own advice. Faced with frustrations or uncertainty, I am trying to step outside the moment and befriend myself. Typically I get tangled in my own emotions and over analyze others’ words or actions, distorting the value of intent and feeling hurt. In treating my own problems with compassion and clarity, I am finding a little peace.
Following a simple formula, universally applicable, I have fostered greater consciousness. First, I name the problem and my emotions. Next, I attempt to identify other personalities surrounding the conflict and challenge myself to consider the “problem” from a new perspective free of my emotions or conflict. Lastly, I try to consider how I would advise my children in a similar circumstance.
Feeling left out of social gatherings with friends I pouted assuming I had lost a place of belonging. Working through this formula lent me clarity. I named the problem and my emotions: I felt intentionally unincluded which lead to hurt feelings. I paused to shift perspective, considering my place among my friends’ company. In this instance, I acknowledged these friends’ connection to one another is a blessing, a source of comfort and joy to each of them; not a source of harm towards me. Next, I considered how I might advise my children on the importance of friendships and finding their own place of belonging. My closest friends are not members of an established group, but rather scattered over different towns from different moments in my life. The absence of those few individuals that know me most completely are the ones whose silence would fill me with emptiness. My advice: enjoy my time with friends without a need for affirmation.
I struggle a bit with confrontation and as a result can approach a problem passive aggressively, creating conflict. When my husband and I are at odds this formula has given me a newfound moment of acceptance. Setting aside my feelings, attempting to see a situation from my husband’s perspective, and allowing my own feelings to have value have created a more equal partnership. Now when we disagree I try to ask him to name for me what has upset him so that I can see the moment with new eyes. Often this makes my own hurt lessened as I shift my focus to encompass my husband’s feelings. In each disagreement I consider our children and the marriage I hope they create for themselves one day. My advice: be compassionate and insist on respect.
In smaller areas of anxiety I am trying to follow suit. I tend to resist change for familiar comforts. I have begun to recognize this and set aside the emotions that accompany this internal conflict; looking at new experiences as opportunities. In these new moments I am advising myself to embrace the experience without expectation.
Evaluating friendships, nurturing a marriage based in equality, and challenging my own insecurities are creating a greater consciousness. Allowing my role as a mother to inform my identity as a woman I am applying the same principles of love, respect, compassion, open-mindedness that I teach my children. It is easy to guide my children with words, but lessons must exist with examples. For now, naming the problem, shifting perspective, and offering guidance based in kindness seems like good advice.
boys and girls
August 24, 2011 § Leave a comment
It begins somewhere between the monkey bars and the swing set. The first strings of school yard rhymes caution there exists an imbalance of power. Girls rule, boys drool. Little boys pull our pig tails and tease us into tears while we feign disinterest and annoyance through batted eyelashes and half smiles. Is it any wonder we grow up questioning each other’s intentions?
Courtship is full of feigned interests and exaggerated displays of patience and affection. Long before we had children, my husband and I were the center of each other’s happiness. We were fascinated by the otherwise illogical intricacies of our thoughts. I would infer meaning, assuming my husband intended subtext. Alternately, my husband would hear my thoughts like newspaper headlines. The need to communicate respect and understanding, concern and appreciation were greater than the words between us.
Then we had children. My husband spends his days running a business, juggling decisions and creating goals. I spend my days as a homemaker, similarly juggling decisions and creating goals. Lately, our minds distracted with the business of our days, I find myself wondering what he means, questioning why he said that or thinking I don’t think he understands.
Today I am looking for a reference guide, my husband lives on Mars and I speak Jupiter.
for better
August 5, 2011 § Leave a comment
My cousin toasted her parents’ wedding anniversary with words of gratitude for her mother and father’s choice to dedicate themselves to one another through everyday commitments of selflessness and effort. My aunt and uncle are celebrating their 49th anniversary. In honor of this happy occasion, I paused to reflect on my cousin’s words.
I have always held romantic notions of those couples peeking from the pages of the newspaper; strangers in black and white images frozen in time from the moment of “I do” then projected into the present, mirrored body language and content smiles bookends to decades of a shared journey. As I replace my fictional story lines for strangers with simple truths gathered from my own experiences and observations, my cousin’s words resonated. Selflessness and effort.
Another couple, celebrating an anniversary just shy of my aunt and uncle’s, strain to hide unhappiness behind smiles. They are bound by different choices; holding tightly to thoughts of hurt, blame, and entitlement. Looking for moments of selflessness and effort between this couple, I could not find a good deed without a bill of acknowledgment. This truth comes free of judgment, but with the eyes of a woman who wants to step cautiously, mindful of my own path.
My husband and I are novices. Still, I hope this reminder born of celebration accompanies us into our future and that years from now our own photos will reflect a choice well lived. Marriage is indeed a lifetime gesture of faith, an unending lesson in patience, and a journey shared. The gift of selflessness, nurturing one another with kindness and compassion, as well as the gift of effort, ever mindful that each day requires a renewed vow to meet both the predictable and unknown endeavoring to give one’s best. Congratulations to my aunt and uncle on their special day; and to their loved ones whose lives more beautiful for lessons shared.
scribblechic 