What I haven't been saying

Here's the post I've been dreading for weeks.  Months.
My marriage is faltering - and not in a cute get-to-the-end-of-the-post sort of way where you'll discover I'm talking metaphorically or analogically and all is well.

I'm fucking serious.

Rooster and I have separated.

After months of agonizing, we have decided that we need some physical and emotional space to try to determine if we can continue our relationship as married partners.  But truthfully, neither of us are all that hopeful.

Nothing I've ever written about Rooster and our marriage is negated by the current happenings.  I still esteem him, I still love him, he is still loving, thoughtful, articulate, an amazing communicator, trustworthy, loyal, and kind.  He is all of those things.  However, what he is not - what we are not - are proving to be a mightier beast.

And I am broken because of it.

I feel like the wind had been kicked out of me and I am writhing on the ground.  And yet, it's happening in a peaceful enough setting, maybe under a looming oak tree, with cotton-ball clouds passing above me, all oblivious to my suffering, but suffering I am, nonetheless.  It is the most bizarre, out of body experience wherein I am being gored by an angry bull and soothingly petted by a kind stranger.

At once fire and ice; pain and relief; anger and joy.

The antiseptic details are as follows: we have rented an apartment together.  We are taking turns staying there.  I go to "work" and come take care of Hawk on my weeks scheduled for the apartment.  Rooster stays away almost entirely when it's his turn.  Hawk knows about the "pawpotment" and thinks it's grand.  He knows Daddy's there now.  He knows Mommy will go there tomorrow night.  He digests it much as he does everything else: with aplomb and without too much significance.  It is 100% mutual.  We are both miserable.  No, it doesn't seem to have a solution other than separation and a reconfiguration of our very amiable, loving relationship with one another.  No, I don't take this lightly.

I am a shell of who I normally am.  I am under water most days; I can barely see through the haze of my own emotion.  I often forget where I'm going while driving.  I can do nothing other than nap when Hawk doesn't need me.  On my days at the apartment I schedule things with friends within an inch of my life in order to fall asleep exhausted only to get up before dawn to be back at the house before Hawk wakes up.

I am emotionless and raw, and yet overflowing with both emotion and pain.

I am sorry if you are reading this and you wish I had called you to tell you, or asked you to coffee to discuss it face to face.  I just can't do it anymore.  I've had half a dozen conversations like this and each one peels off another layer of my self and I need all the layers I can get right now.  I hope you can understand.

I feel like a colossal failure on a bad day, a sad mishap on a good one.  I can't tell you how I might have avoided this day because I honestly don't think I could have.  There were signs early on for the both of us that we chose to ignore and be hopeful about, but in the end are irreversible and unchallengeable.

It is one of the worst things that has ever happened to me.

I worry about Hawk so intensely that it overwhelms my entire being.  Will he understand relationships, love, commitment??  Will he get the nuance of his parents being fiercely attached to each other, yet wholly wrong for one another?  Will he believe in love?  Commitment??

Will I??

Anyway...

This is what has stifled me for all these weeks and months.  This is what has been stuck in my craw preventing me from my usual flow.

It's real.  It's happening.  I am brokenhearted and also at peace.

I wish with all my being that this wasn't happening.  And yet, it is.  Funny how that works.

While the husband's away

Anthony's gone for another week this week and I've decided that this is the best time to give potty training a go.

I figure that with just one parent steering the boat there will be less mixed signals and different communication. I've often done major parenting things when I was solo for this reason and it's always worked out the best.

I feel lots of guilt about it, too.

I have really grown to like my time apart from Anthony. Everything's just easier. The house, life, the snoring and sleeping, just everything. There's another upside to the distance, though: I miss him. All the drudgery of everyday married life dissipates and I can find that kernel of longing that so often goes missing with everyday contact.

I don't know if it's our relationship in particular, or what every couple experiences, but where we're at today I would go crazy if Anthony and I never got some space from each other. How different my tune is today than it was two and a half years ago when his travel began, or even a year ago. I would miss him terribly and I was terrified each night, imagining that disgusting ghoul figure from The Ring dragging itself all over my bedroom floor ready to hiss at me and eat me on its way back down to hell (yeah, really).

Now, I drink wine, watch a TV show or Facebook, do chores, and go right to bed with the covers laid securely over me with my arms and legs pointing out like a compass; not a twitch of worry in my body left as I sink off to sleep dreaming of past and future presidents getting randy with me.

I think this is the [early] middle-age crunch. I'm not just going crazy and my relationship isn't just staid - it's just the nose-to-the-grindstone phase of our lives where we push and fight and bust our balls for Anthony's career so we can be stable and cruise a little later on, right? Right?

In any case, Hollis and I have already had a lovely morning where he's wearing colorful underpants and an oversized t-shirt. I'm staying in my pajamas all day and he's staying in just his socks and potty-training attire. He's already yelled, "Mama! Wet!" once when he peed and we went and sat on the potty with his special "pink potty-paci" and select books. Nothing in the pot, yet, but I have hope, patience, and a pretty good sense of humor about all of this.

There's something that says "commitment" like nothing else when it's just you, a toddler, and a pair of cotton undies.

Meanwhile, I'm going to also enjoy my alone-time and focus on happy dreams, happy reunions, and happy nights with friends. Of course all of this will happen while I'm sprawled out spread eagle on my bed in pajamas I've been wearing for 48 hours.

Ahh, the solo-life.

It should simply be noted...

... that I am dressed for bed in Anthony's down slippers, flannel pajama bottoms and one of his sweaters.

We had 19 lovely hours together before he had to drag his weary self back on a plane to Bangalore.

But we're doing it together and that's what counts the most.

G-O-T-E-A-M!

Welcome to the February Carnival of Natural Parenting: Love and partners!

This post was written for inclusion in the monthly Carnival of Natural Parenting hosted by Hobo Mama and Code Name: Mama. This month we're writing about how a co-parent has or has not supported us in our dedication to natural parenting. Please read to the end to find a list of links to the other carnival participants.

******

On our one-year anniversary of dating Anthony and I drove a couple of hours east to Galveston, TX to stay in a quaint, Victorian-style bed and breakfast on the Gulf Coast. We left in a rain storm, got lost, bickered, and arrived after hours to a key under the mat and a note from the innkeepers to come on in and make ourselves at home with the cheese plate and complimentary wine left for us.

We were hungry, irritable, and struggling to make lemonade out of our lemon-like evening when we climbed out our bedroom window to the rooftop patio. It was a chilly November night and you could just barely hear the lick of the coastal waters on the shore in the distance.

I remember this night so vividly for a few reasons, but one of the biggest was this was when we had our first real talk about parenting, our vision and our desires. Sitting on that chaise longue with a glass of white wine in one hand and cracker in the other I mentioned that I had always wanted to be a stay-at-home-mom and that it was something I'd always wanted since I could remember.

I was so relieved to discover that he wouldn't spank either, that he loved the idea of breastfeeding for however long I wanted, and also (eventually) was warm to the idea of me dropping out of the workforce to care for our children.

It was a really difficult discussion to have so early in our relationship. We'd only been living together for six months and marriage had never even been discussed, but I had dated other men who had differed wildly from my core beliefs in the past and I had always known that those differences were deal breakers. I could never be with a man who wanted to strike my child. Nor could I be with a man who viewed my full-time care-taking as "lazy" or "not working." And neither could I be with a man who decided what I should do with my breasts.

Fast forward almost three years to the day from that night and Hollis was born. I had read The Baby Book, by Dr. Sears, and What to Expect the First Year and I was definitely more drawn to the attachment parenting style. Cry-It-Out and Ferberizing and all that just seemed too easy (and frankly painful) and when it came time to put our money where our mouth was we fell towards an AP lifestyle naturally.

Anthony took off a month of work that first month to bond with the baby and take care of me; we co-slept, I nursed on demand, and Hollis' needs always came first those first several critical months. Anthony always supported whatever decision I made since I had moved into the expert-role of parent while he switched gears to head back to work full-time.

Very occasionally we differ on a topic, but it's usually about a nuance, not on the fundamentals. In an old post about my parenting philosophy I described it like this:

6. Provide Consistent Loving Care - Anthony and I work very hard to be consistent with policies and active parenting. It's hard when we have such different styles. I like to think of it as a color. Our over all philosophy is Blue and I'm a Dark Blue and Anthony's a Light Blue.

I am so grateful for a man in my life who supports my vision. Sometimes wistfully I wonder what it'd be like to not be the one making all the decisions, to just be able to say, "Yeah, I totally agree with that! What a great idea!" Because I definitely feel the pressure and responsibility of captaining this ship. But with great power comes great responsibility and I've become ok with that. It makes me feel strong and more like a Mama Bear.

I may not be making all the right decisions day in and day out but at least my partner backs me up on my voyage. This job is so unbelievably difficult and to have someone butting heads with me all the time would be disastrous for everyone. My heart goes out to those in struggling situations and I only hope that one day you can both get on the same page. Our only real argument comes to bear when there's a break down of communication regarding expectations, but never about philosophy.

I can even take this a step further and say that everyone in my life backs up me and my style of parenting. All of my friends embrace my open, natural attitude and my parents, sister, and in-laws have all followed suit as well. No one ever tells me "shut Hollis up" if he screams in a restaurant. No one ever tells me to spank him if he becomes defiant. No one told me to stop nursing when Hollis turned 1. They all look to me and Anthony for guidance and then mimic our responses to our son.

My friends and family may find it frustrating or difficult, but they've never let on to me. They have all been nothing but supportive and loving. And in my opinion our reward is a happy, loving little boy who trusts the adults in his life.

I've come across countless blogs where mothers are fought against for their decision to be a natural, gentle, loving mother and I count my blessings. No mother should have to fight against anyone to ensure her child is parented in the way she feels best.

So, thanks, everyone for being so loving to and supportive of me.

*****

Visit Code Name: Mama and Hobo Mama to find out how you can participate in the next Carnival of Natural Parenting!

Please take time to read the submissions by the other carnival participants:

• A Thank You to my Husband — Lactating Girl at The Adventures of Lactating Girl thanks her husband for keeping her grounded and giving her unwavering support in the face of discouragement from within and without. (@lactatinggirl)

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• My Reverse Traditional Husband In the Wild — Paige at Baby Dust Diaries gives us a lesson on how dads in the wild parent their young. Can you guess which male animal actually nurses its young? (@babydust)

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• February Carnival of Natural Parenting — TopHat at The Bee in Your Bonnet tells us how the patience of a partner can make a difficult breastfeeding relationship succeed. (@TopHat8855)

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• Parenting Together — For Alison at BluebirdMama and her husband, parenting is simply an extension of the way they live. (@childbearing)

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• If We Had A MIllion Dollars — Melodie at Breastfeeding Moms Unite! and her husband would both agree to be crunchier parents if they had a million dollars to ease the way. (@bfmom)

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• February Carnival of Natural Parenting: Co-Parents — Dionna at Code Name: Mama has written a letter to her husband, thanking him for his incredible support in every aspect of their natural parenting journey. (@CodeNameMama)

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• Natural Parenting Fathers — Sarah at Natural Parenting is balancing being all there for her son with being present for her husband. (@considereden)

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• Just Wonderful: Love and Partners and Natural Parenting — Zoey at Good Goog let her husband lead her to babywearing and cosleeping. (@zoeyspeak)

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• All that stuff I don't get comes so easy to him — The Grumbles is taking this opportunity to say thank you to her husband for his mad parenting skills. (@thegrumbles)

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• The Power of Having a Supportive Co-Parent — Chrystal at Happy Mothering and her husband started with vaccinations and moved on from there. (@HappyMothering)

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• February Carnival of Natural Parenting: Love and partners — Lauren at Hobo Mama makes do with babbling incoherently about how her husband practices natural parenting in such an effortless fashion, with bonus video. (@Hobo_Mama)

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• Love and Partners — Mrs Green at Little Green Blog shares her husband's moving account of her birth story, and his testament to the power of a woman. (@myzerowaste)

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• labor support... — Mandy at Living Peacefully with Children is thankful that her partner has provided her immeasurable labor support through each of their last three unassisted homebirths (and will again for their upcoming fourth!).

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• What co-parent? On prams, routines, ideals, sickness, and finding my way alone. — Ruth at Look Left of the Pleiades describes life without a present co-parent: making new choices and taking care of things herself. (@brightravenmum)

• Parenting With Support — How many people can say that their husband talked them into cloth diapering? Darcel at The Mahogany Way can! (@MahoganyWayMama)

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• Co-Parenting Support — Summer at Mama2Mama Tips knows the importance of being supported in the face of criticism. (@mama2mamatips)

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• Natural Parenting Carnival: Love and Partners — pchanner at A Mom's Fresh Start has been blessed with an incredibly involved partner. Her husband loves to take part in every aspect of parenting! (@pchanner)

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• Daddy's Little Girls — Kate Wicker at Momopoly finds her husband right at home in a tangle of girls. (@Momopoly)

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• How do I love my parenting partner? Let me count the ways. — Sybil at Musings of a Milk Maker is thankful that she and her partner co-parent fluidly and gracefully. (@mamamilkers)

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• Interview with a Daddy — NavelgazingBajan brings us a highly amusing peek into her husband's perspective.

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• Being Supported in Natural Parenting — Sarah at OneStarryNight has witnessed both ends of the parenting spectrum, and is grateful she found a father who is comfortable with natural parenting. (@starrymom)

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• Moments in time: a love letter — Arwyn at Raising My Boychick will make you cry with the beautiful way she describes the complete relationship between father and child. (@RaisingBoychick)

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• Natural parenting converts — Jen at Recovering Procrastinator brought her reluctant husband around to cloth diapers, bed sharing, and time-ins as a discipline method. (@jenwestpfahl)

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• Breastfeeding Father — Amber Strocel at Strocel.com describes how her husband helped her overcome the breastfeeding challenges she encountered with her premature daughter. (@AmberStrocel)

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• A Natural Parenting Village — Acacia from Art, Body & Soul, in a guest post for Jamie at Suddenly Stay at Home, broadens the term "coparents" to embrace supportive extended family on both sides. (@SuddnlyStyAtHme)

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• A Natural Dad — Shana at Tales of Minor Interest doesn't have a husband who merely supports her — she has a husband just as dedicated to natural parenting as she is.

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• Love and Support From My (sometimes pantsless) Man — Joni Rae at Tales of a Kitchen Witch Momma describes life with the sometimes bumbling but always lovable Pantsless Man. (@kitchenwitch)

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• G-O-T-E-A-M! — Jessica at This Is Worthwhile made sure her future husband agreed with her parenting choices early in their dating. (@tisworthwhile)

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• how we come to parenthood — Michelle at womanseekingmother dances with her husband around the subject of cosleeping. (@seekingmother)

1734 words to say, "I'm a work in progress"

Boom.

Ok, so I'm sitting here on a random Wednesday afternoon and I feel like my thoughts are clouds in a thunderhead.

The more intense my feeling about something the more remote location I give it in my mental real estate. As in, WAY the fuck OUT THERE. It's not real, it's not that big of a deal, it'll go away, etc. Yeah well, that only ever works for so long before the shit storm hits. And it's here now.

I've written before about the concepts of feminism and motherhood, although not at great length (here and here), but they're always there on my mind. I live and breathe feminist mothering. I can't not. Although, honestly, I'm having a hard time applying it to myself and my own situation.

Let me back up a minute and explain what I believe feminist mothering is. It's all the usual feminist ideas and ideals (women are as capable as men at intellectual pursuits and are righteously due equal opportunities and pay for their skills and work in addition to protection of these rights), but it's also about the lens through which I teach and raise my son. Although I am in a traditional role, my husband and I are equal partners in our relationship and life; I am not subordinate to his work-outside-of-the-house role in our lives. My son will grow up knowing this. He will see me as a powerful force in our family. He will also see me being proud of being a woman, embracing all that comes with it, and believing that partnerships are born out of complementing one another, not dominating. And, maybe most importantly, it's about instilling the belief that mothering and all things associated with it are high in status and equal to work not related to mothering.

It sounds lovely, right? But, despite pretty much living up to my intellectual belief system, I am having an extremely difficult time getting what I need by staying at home with an almost 2 year old.

I am certainly not short on meaning in my life or pride in my work. I'm all full of love and wonder and happiness and [mostly] confidence on that front. However, I am also lonely, uninspired, unstimulated, and a little bored.

All these feelings have been on the horizon of my mental grasp, too difficult to bear, until recently when I had a come to Jesus moment and questioned the very foundation on which all of my current life is based: my marriage. I questioned the logic of relying on one person for everything for the rest of my life and realized what a red herring argument that was. It's not my marriage - no one person can possibly be my everything - it's ME.

I've let myself down completely and now I am virtually stranded alone with a toddler day in and day out. No friends, no support system of peers, nothing. And I love this toddler with every fiber of my being and it breaks my heart to say that caring for him is not enough for me, but there it is. Somehow it's just not. And my imperfect marriage is also not the cause of my unrest, isolation or sadness. It's me and the fact that I've abandoned myself.

My biggest mistake has been my attempt to do everything perfectly all the time at the very high price of losing myself (not a very feminist thing to do, I might add). I am housekeeper (lo, housewife soldier), financier, teacher, social planner, mother, daughter, sister, and wife extraordinaire all the time. Rain or shine, happy or sad, willing or unwilling. No where in all of that have I given myself a moment to reclaim Jessica in any form, past or present.

I have a couple of theories on why this has happened and it's based on not only my experience, but those of my friends as well. First, women, because we must prove we are as good as men and as deserving as men, work twice as hard in all aspects of their life. And second, I'm tired of getting hurt and so have shut myself in.

Every woman I know, working or staying at home, drives herself like a lowly beast to be a better mother, a better cook, a better student, a better partner, a better everything. She sleeps and exercises less. She beats herself up on the rare occasion she goes out with friends or takes a run. And God forbid she nap (although, some women are certainly gifted at taking a nap, I don't know many that feel truly deserving of one and guilt-free when she wakes up).

On the other hand, men, who are raised possessing a self-confidence and acceptance of the validity and stability of good things in their life (as in, no one's going to leave him if he gains 50 lbs or he's not going to lose his job to a younger, better looking woman) are afforded an incredible ability to just let others handle things while they take care of their own needs: they nap, they shower, they eat, they exercise. They retain a strong desire to protect their personal needs from attending to family and work.

Obviously, I'm generalizing on all sides here, but the fact remains that the majority of the population can relate to these caricatures of gender, and you know what they say about stereotypes being a reflection of reality. And I know I'm all over the place, but hang with me...

I've mentioned it before, but I'm going to say it again: the feminist movement forgot something in their plight for equal recognition, rights, and pay. That the work women do in relation to child rearing and home management is as important as what men do outside the home. Because let's be honest, women bear the brunt of household work in most cases even if they work full-time (and then some). They come home and make dinner, shop, take care of the house, bills, kids, bath time, night time, middle of the night wakings and on and on.

Yeah! we get to slave at a desk job just like our male counterparts, but oh yeah, we also get to come home and KEEP DOING EVERYTHING WE'D BEEN DOING because no one thought to tell men they should be doing them too! Men are typically done when they get home. Women are just beginning their real work. And I've bought into this bullshit somewhere along the line even though I'm not leaving the house to work. I must take care of everything all the time. Do, do, do! Work, work, work! Push, push, push! I must prove to Anthony that I am busting my ass! Wha-?? How the hell did that happen? (And like Anthony even doubts it??)

And now here I am questioning what my life would be like if a) I worked outside the home in order to feel smart, intelligent, pushed, challenged and otherwise embraced as an adult as opposed to just a mother and wife and b) what would it be like if I never even had those aspirations in the first place? If I had been born 200 years ago and mothering and house management was the only role I could fulfill? Would I be happier if either of those things happened? Is the possibility of me doing even more work and being separated from Hollis really the answer? Is the possibility of just ignoring all my emotional and intellectual needs to only mother my son and wife my husband the answer?

No. And what stupid questions! I should be asking myself: How can I get more opportunities to recharge? What can I do to feel connected to people, adults again? Where can I go to find some solace? How can I carve out some balance in my every day life??

My mom bought me a book at Barnes & Noble the other day. It's called, "Stay Home, Stay Happy: 10 Secrets to Loving At-Home Motherhood."

Ugh.

It's not just a little bit embarrassing that my mother bought me this book, but I understand why she did. She knows I'm floundering a bit and wants to help. The thing is, I don't think it's the SAHM thing that I need to get happy with. I'm certain I need to give myself more credit for the work I do, but I really and truly am honored and happy to get to spend this time with Hollis and craft a loving, trusting relationship with him in the exact way I want to. What I really need is a book to tell me how to be a SAHM and still get the kind of stimulation I was used to (and needed!) for 30 years as a non-parent. "Stay Home, Stay Happy, Stay Sane: 10 Secrets to Loving At-Home Motherhood and Still Feeling Relevant as the Human Being You Are."

The other theory I have on why I'm angst-ridden and upset is because I don't want to get hurt by anyone. And by that I mean, "I don't want to put myself out there and get shat on by 'friends'." It's pretty straight forward. I'm a sensitive son-of-a-bitch and over time I've stopped putting myself out there for reasons of self-protection. I think it's time to put the armor back on and get my ass in the game. For my sanity's sake.

After mulling over on this for weeks now I feel confident in my new plan of action. I've joined no less than three Meetup.com groups for moms and parents and even went to my very first last week (it was a quick playdate at a nearby park and it was lovely and exhilarating). I'm at least aware of my feelings now and am questioning my standards of work and giving myself more slack (that's right "at work," as in here at the house). Anthony and I have spent hours talking about my malaise and unhappiness and he is actively changing his at-home trajectory for which I am eternally grateful and now feel more hopeful about our future as a cohabiting pair. And I've begun to open up to other friends and moms about my situation and feelings and have found that I am so far from being alone it's not even funny, and knowing that relieves some of my loneliness and makes me feel much less crazy.

So, there you have it. A lot of words just to say my head's up my ass and I'm painfully aware of it. I'm definitely a work in progress.

Anyone else feel this way??

Date night at the Alamo

Date night at the Alamo!

Anthony and I have been pretty good recently about having date nights. Somehow, him being gone more frequently causes us to be more diligent about spending time alone together. Like tonight, for example. I wore my $20 Old Navy dress and $300 Frye's boots (nothing like mixing it up, right?) and we went to the Alamo Draft House at the Village.

Purple dress.

For those of you not lucky enough to have an Alamo near you, it's a dinner theater here in Austin. You can order drinks, food, appetizers, you name it, all while sitting in a comfy theater chair and watching a movie. Tonight, we watched G.I. Joe (it was 'aight).

Funky ass Alamo previews.

And I had some lovely glasses of wine and a delectable pizza called Wild At Artichoke Hearts. Yeah. Can you say, "YUM!"? We came home after that and chilled and I am currently pondering the state of my plump little navel.

It's funny how we - we meaning everyone - need "date nights." Our lives get so hectic that it's a requisite part of a relationship these days. I'm ok with it, totally, it just make me go, "Hmmm," that's all.

So, I'm gonna sit here and continue to sip on some lovely red wine and think about the universe and love and relationships and how awesome it is that my honey is asleep in the other room safe and sound. Then I'll think some more about the state of everything afar and sunder and how I'm damned lucky that I don't have some evil serum injected into my body that makes me do things out of character like blow up the Eiffel Tower or my friend's face. And then I'm gonna be really, really happy about it and my funky life as matron of honor.

Update-
I forgot to add that we got this text about a minute after the movie started from my mom:

Momentous moment: h pooped in the bathtub!!! It was a log, just like a babyruth, OMG. He kept calling it "BeBe" & grabbing his butt. It took me awhile to catch on to what was happning. The grunting was the real give away.......

Momentous moment indeed!!

And in other news: I dream about sex

(Let me make this perfectly clear that I am not joking when I give the following warning)
FAMILY, THIS POST IS NOT FOR YOU. Read if you must, but I'll deny everything if you ever bring it up.

Ok, so here's the thing. I'm a housewife, right?? I've been a housewife/SAHM/homemaker/whatever for almost two years. I don't go out. I rarely see my friends. I rarely want to see my friends. I rarely drink. I rarely get dressed up. I rarely meet new people. I rarely feel beautiful - and I mean, really beautiful like, "Damn, girl. You are so fucking sexy I can't keep my hands off of you"-beautiful. I rarely feel worthy of anyone saying that to me even when they do (well, when he does, not "they" - oh, if only!). I rarely feel interesting to anyone. I rarely feel like a prize.

And when I say "rarely," I really mean "never."

Because, you see, being a housewife/SAHM/homemaker/whatever means that I am home-bound. Not just because my office is my house, but because my priorities have changed. I'm married, I have a son, I have a sense of self and purpose outside of trolling Austin for hot guys and a good buzz (or a hot buzz and good guys). I can't wear stilettos to clean the house or a revealing top to hang with my mom. I can't flirt with the most titillating person at the table because I can't: I'm married. And happily married.

And, yet, I am chafing under this self-imposed isolation of self and soul.

I am becoming restless and antsy. I am becoming THAT housewife. The one who pours over her romance novels like they're more than just smut in paperback, as if they might be real...somewhere. The one who can barely stand the raw hotness between a pale ass, teenaged, vampire and his just as pale assed teenage girl obsession. The one who is living in hot, sexy dreams with men she's known (and not known - hey, Bill, drop me a line) and memories of my hedonistic past like Al Bundy and his high school football days.

I have such ardent dreams I wake up feeling guilty. GUILTY! I probably make Anthony an extra egg or give him my last piece of bacon on those mornings. I mean, does he even know the things I'm doing in my dreams to other men?? Seriously. Anne Rice has got nothing on me - well, ok, she's got a lot on me with her sexy-time books, but you get my drift. My dreams are very adult, very explicit, and very nice.

And I'm wondering if all my recent malaise isn't somehow tied up with this stagnant perfume I'm wearing. What do I expect to have happen if what I do each day is summed up by 1300 square feet, lots of cooking, lots of cleaning, and little, to no interaction with real live adults?? I am utterly fulfilled and beyond happy growing my little person - absolutely not one regret there, truly - but I am regretting this hole I've dug for myself.

In the beginning of all of this I felt safer at home with Hollis and Anthony because I didn't have to worry about getting hurt by people or let down. I didn't have to worry about exerting my social muscles. I hung out here, invited people over, cooked for them, imbibed with them. But even that has trickled to an almost full stop. Most of my very favorite people in the entire world have joined the Austin Diaspora, but I'm still here, alone, and with a husband who's gone from the house for roughly 9-10 hours of a 15 hour wakeful day.

Add to this the fact that Anthony and I don't enjoy doing the same things. He doesn't like spending money out. He doesn't talk to strangers and he really doesn't like to go out on the town. He's a jeans and pub kind of guy. The fellow you're comfortable and easy with and who kisses you sweetly and passionately in the car away from watchful eyes.

I absolutely love this about him; I love our differences, the tension it brings and the compliment, but what am I supposed to do to get that old kick back in my life?? I can't go bar hopping to chat people up and be admired for my desirability (something I used to thrive on). And when I try for it with him our date nights are usually anxiety laden because of money issues and coming home to Hollis at a reasonable hour and reasonably sober. And I'm asleep in my coffee.

Am I supposed to exorcise myself of wanting to be wanted by others? to feel that rush and adrenalin of talking to new people? to use hours' worth of witty banter to woo someone to my side?

How do I reconcile all of this?

Gone, utterly, are the days of passion and fun and force and excitement. My life is predictable. Safe. Lovely. Full of strong, warm hugs. It's butterflies and sunbeams and nicely made beds and zerbert kisses. - And oh, God, I feel so guilty for even feeling this way when I can still feel Hollis' sweet little mouth on the tender skin of my arm, see the twinkle in his eye and sense the love emanating from his warm, pulsing body. It's as if I'm saying he's not enough, even though that's the last thing on earth I'm saying.

I just want to know one thing: How do I possibly add to my beautiful world all that raucous, powerful, cat-scratch, tobacco-laden energy from my past without actually sacrificing the present and future? How??

Am I alone in this??

Please, quick, someone tell me before my head fucking explodes and Anthony has to put me back together again...

Only 5 days, 8 hours, 59 minutes and 12 seconds until I get to see my honey and he can make all of this go away and assure me I'm not fucking bat-shit crazy and that I really and truly am everything I remember.

Date night

Anthony leaves for a 2 1/2 week long business trip today (CA then
Athens), so last night Hollis stayed with my mom and Anto and I went
out to a fancy dinner.

I was about to fall asleep in my coffee I was so exhausted.

It usually happens that way: Anthony and I try to reconnect as adults
and I'm a walking zombie. I must have some kind of radar that senses
I'm off baby duty (sorta off anyway, cuz you're never really off) and it flips a hurry-up-and-sleep switch.

My husband was heroically understanding and held me until I passed put
in his arms, which took approximately 30 seconds.

Damn, the last week and a half has really wrung me out and the next 2
1/2 will probably, too. Thank god my parents are nearby to help when
I'm alone with Hollis.

And damn, I sure am going to miss my man...

Wish I felt 100% human again. Here's to hoping.

Separation anxiety: The mama's, of course, not the kid's

Reunited and it feels so good.

We've been having a rough time over here the past few weeks. The mood around the house is often tense and slightly antagonistic. Anthony and I haven't exactly been fighting, but we're not exactly warm and fuzzy to each other. I'm doing my best to be kind and understanding. It's working, but barely.

So, last Friday, we'd been butting heads all afternoon- reservedly, of course, because we never really lose our shit completely on each other - and Hollis had spent the last hour or so bawling his eyes out because we'd brought him inside and made him stop playing with the garden hose. Anthony and I had silently called a truce and were focused on feeding Hollis and finishing up our own dinners when we heard a knock at the door.

Of course, I thought, it's probably Mom or something and since I told her I'd rather have her pop over unexpectedly than have her use her cell to call me en route and cause a wreck. I was right, but it was also Terry. Their faces were beaming when I opened the door.

"Hi!" they chorused, "We're taking Hollis for the night! You get the Volvo, we'll take the Mitsubishi with the car seat."

And in they rushed. Over the next five minutes I ran around packing his overnight bag, explaining his current mood, making sure mom had the children's Tylenol in case his teeth hurt that night and here, take this snack and this snack, and this sippy cup for his water, and "do you have stuff for his breakfast tomorrow??" My mom assured me they had everything under control and to just relax and enjoy a night off.

Hollis was in heaven in Grandma's arms and squirmed away from me when I leaned in for a kiss. I'm not even sure Anthony was allowed to touch him (Anthony's been low man on the totem pole the past couple of weeks, poor fella). They slipped out the garage door in the kitchen and I was standing next to the bar suddenly bereft.

The car hadn't even started yet and my face screwed up and I began crying.

Anthony saw me and said, "Aw, sweetie. It's such a nice thing they did!"

I shook my head understanding that he thought I was crying because the gesture of them taking him for a night was so sweet, "No, I miss my baby!" I murmured and covered my face and cried harder. He came over to me immediately and wrapped his arms around me.

"Aw, babe... I thought you were verklempt at them coming to take him!"

I shook my head against his chest.

Then I heard the engine start up and the car pull out of our garage and knew Hollis was on his way. More tears.

When Anthony released me from his embrace we both went through the motions of cleaning the kitchen. He stopped after he'd brought the dishes over and I continued working in the kitchen. We then proceeded to argue about the dishes, then argue for an hour more about our navels.

Throughout our arguing and intense follow-up discussion I kept thinking, "I'm sure this isn't what Mom and Terry expected us to be doing," but much like a bubble bath together might help us connect on a romantic level, Anthony and I needed to iron some shit out in the real world, too. We came to an amicable end and I got up to get ready for bed.

While in my room I heard the soft hum of the baby monitor and started to cry all over again as I turned it off. I kept thinking about Maddie and her parents and how cavernous my heart would feel if I should ever lose Hollis permanently instead of just to two loving grandparents who decided they were finally up to the challenge of an overnight stay. I sucked it up, thought how wonderful a thing it was to feel this kind of love and sat down to the computer to call my sister.

I told her what Mom and Terry had done and immediately got choked up all over again. Totally seized by emotion and tears like a freight train - no warning, nothing. Just THERE. In my heart, on my face, everywhere. My sister, albeit lovingly and with some amount of humor on her part, chided me that I was being ridiculous and "It's only one night. Don't ruin your night off," or something to that extent. I reminded her that I had also been weepy for the first few hours of my trip to see her in January without Hollis and that I was fine, I just couldn't help it, I MISSED MY BABY.

I can't explain this thing that ambushed me and wrapped itself about my, otherwise, logical, independent, and rational self. It was like it only left me a crack to see through and a hole to breathe. I couldn't even look into his room for HOURS after he'd gone.

I'm sure it didn't help that I was already on edge with Anthony, despite the fact that we'd hugged it out and bumped fists. I felt raw and nervous. What if Mom didn't hear him choke in the middle of the night? What if Terry snored all night and Hollis didn't sleep a wink? What if they didn't have anything to feed him for breakfast? What if he didn't sleep enough? - we had a big play date planned the next day during his regular nap time. What if? What if? What if??

Eventually, I relaxed and even went in Hollis' room to tidy up with nary a tear. - Ok, well, maybe a thickened throat. - I went to bed with earplugs in, guiltless about this little luxury, and slept like a rock.

I remember thinking how ridiculous mothers were who cried and wept over missing their kids. Oh, boy. What a shit I was. When you are with someone, ANYONE, every day of your life you miss them. Remember the tears at the end of summer camp?? Or before you went away to college? Hell, I cry when Anthony is gone and he's grown man whose reliance on me is minor at best. So, OF COURSE I'm going to react strongly to my baby being whisked away from me for an overnight excursion. I think about Hollis and his needs, wants, and feelings every waking moment. No joke. I have to to ensure his survival.

The first few times I left the house without Hollis were tough. I kept expecting to hear a baby gurgle and coo and my mind raced over check lists for baby (do I have enough wipes? diapers? change of - oh yeah... he's not with me...). Going out with friends felt odd. I'd blink my eyes as if I'd just left a dark theater. I couldn't quite adjust to the baby-less feeling. Something was missing.

You might think I'm this crazy, over-protective mom who has no life, who can't decipher where she ends and her kids start and you'd be so freakin' wrong. But, if you do, then so be it. The truth is that I very much know where I end and my kids start, but the process of disengaging myself from the hyper-vigilance required when a child is an infant to a more secure stand-and-watch position is not something that happens overnight. It happens in conjunction with his growth. I think I'm spot on. Er - I hope I'm spot on, at least. I hope my feelings are in line with reality.

The next morning when I went to get Hollis he saw me and yelled, "Neeew!" and ran the opposite direction to Grandma - not exactly the welcome I was hoping for. But, he didn't want to leave, so ok. He cried a bit, but then was fine once he was strapped in his seat. He was in my jurisdiction again and I felt more at ease.

I also felt immense pride. My baby is securely attached. He can leave me and Anthony with confidence and balance. He can re-enter his life with me without penalizing me for "abandoning" him. He feels safe in his world. He trusts trustworthy adults.

I will gladly cry forlornly in my living room a hundred times over, take shit from my sister for over-reacting, and fight with Anthony over stupid crap with utter abandon because there's finally no little person around a thousand times over if it means I get to keep witnessing my little caterpillar growing his beautiful toddler butterfly wings and fluttering away.

It's a thing of wonder and beauty to watch him confidently return to my arms, my sweet, baby Hollis, he who has made all the puzzle pieces finally fit together just by being. And I'm not ashamed to admit it.

When your man has fits, walk like a penguin

This was an IM chat I just had with Anthony:


ME:

LOL Comment of the day: When my husband gets tired of fighting, he likes to break me by looking at me with big eyes and saying, “How does a penguin walk?” Which initially pisses me off, but who can stay mad at a grown man running after you, flapping his arms and yelling, “Hooow does a penguin waaaalk?” Which is why our fights usually end with BOTH of us running around the living room, flapping our arms, and the neighbors gathering around our window. ~ MonsteRawr (via The Bloggess)

ANTHONY:

wow

we should try that

ME:

yeah, seriously hahaha

but we never really fight

although next time you're in a fit i might ask you how a penguin walks hahhaha

you may hit me, but it'd be worth it

hahaha

ANTHONY:

well, bust that one out when I have (and here he stopped because he saw my rapid fire response about his "fit")

yeah

exactly

ME:

LOL

who knows her man??

ANTHONY:

you do, Jessica

you do

And I love him to bits, too. Fits and all.


When I don't want my marriage

There are times when I don't want my marriage.

I don't know if you're allowed to really admit to that, but there it is. There are days when Anthony and I feel like overworked oxen moving in our daily treads, chastely kissing hello/goodbye, a little hug here and there, a discussion of goings on, then lights out. Two moving parts, mostly well-oiled, but still needing some juice, going through our life together day after day after day after day.

My resentment builds cyclically. I feel great for a few weeks. I work hard, I'm all warm and fuzzy about all things Anthony and Jessica, then suddenly I'm at the base of a wall of anger and fear for my future so high I can't see clearly; I feel like I'm under water and life is murky and Anthony. is. the. cause.

If only he'd just take out the trash instead of waiting for me to ask him to do it.

If only Anthony would take initiative with bath time.

If only I could rely on Anthony to something other than just go to work.

If only Anthony would ______. Which then swiftly morphs into, Why doesn't Anthony just _______??

I ranted and raved at myself for an hour the other night with this line of reasoning, then: What am I saying?? Do I not want to be married??

The answer is so simple: Of course I want to be married (and married to Anthony), but I don't want THIS kind of marriage. The marriage of resentment and anger, of general emotional dishonesty.

Admitting that I don't want it is terrifying. It feels oh so close to saying I'm quitting the marriage, but it's the absolute opposite. I'm renewing my vow to the marriage I want. The one where Anthony and I are connected and interested in each other; where there is passion and laughter; a spirit of camaraderie and teamwork.

I want a divorce from the bitchy, punitive marriage that sucks my energetic outlook on life right out through my worn down fingertips.

In a world where too many people get married for all the wrong reasons I think Anthony and I were one of the few couples who did it for all the right reasons. We were thoughtful about it, happy to do it, and regarded each other as partners, not "completers." We were already complete human beings. I have always seen Anthony like the sprinkles on a cupcake: not required, but definitely a bonus. And, I think, he feels the same about me.

So, when I start getting pissy about the placement, color, and number of sprinkles on my cupcake I know it's time to slow down and do some digging. I want a good relationship after all, and it's my responsibility to not let it slip into a daily dog fight over who's going to give Hollis a freakin' bath. I have to remain focused on those glorious sprinkles and how much they add to my life and ask myself, What's really going on here?

Anthony proves to me each time we come to this kind of impasse why I married him. Inevitably we come to a conclusion, a place of utter harmony of spirits, and I melt into him, his strength, his sensitivity, his raging intelligence. When I see his commitment to me and to a better marriage it invigorates me to continue to believe in it, in ours.

In the end, it has very little to do with what Anthony does or doesn't do with the trash or a dirty baby. It has everything to do with how I communicate my feelings and how they are received and reciprocated. True to the typical gender stereotypes, I'm the one sending out the vibes and Anthony is the receiver. I wonder how it'd be if he was the one always saying, "Jess, so I've been thinking..." I'm shocked he doesn't just put a pillow over his head whenever those words leave my mouth. But again, he never does, and it's why I continue to risk putting my feelings out there in the first place.

After this small revolution of heart I'm not afraid to admit that I don't want my marriage when it feels like a whole lot of crap. I'm not saying I'm going to give up on it whenever it does feel that way. I'm saying I'm going to slap myself back to reality and out of wallowing in my pitiless misery; to incite myself to find new ways out of it; to dig, claw, cry, and fight back to my sunny spot in the mythical flowered meadow of marital bliss that I truly believe in. - And it's worth noting, it's a mythical place only if you think it never rains.

So, hear me now, Universe: I want a robust, complicated, rich, visceral, love- and laughter-encrusted life of commitment that is a Marriage and I most definitely, definitely, want it with Anthony. I want a Marriage born of strength and honesty, of love and laughter. To this Marriage I say, I love you and will always be here for you. And to Anthony I say, I am yours forever and always... you never have to wonder.

Things I wish someone had told me... just so, you know, I'd have a clue

October 9th, 2007 (he was born at 1:04 that morning)

This is Part 1 of Things I Wish Someone Had Told Me. Part 2 is here.

I've been thinking a lot about what I wished I had known prior to becoming a parent. My sister is due with her first baby November 30th (RRWM '09!), one of my best friends, Diane, just had a baby (hi, lil' Henry Ryan!!), another of my best friends, Clara, is due December 16th (Yay, for baby Micklebury!), another friend, Craig and his wife, on Christmas Day (Baby Fireball), and yet another dear old friend ('sup, Bri!) is also due in July with her first. Whew - that's a LOT of babies this year! Then, because things like this usually have a running theme in my life Noelle of Baby in Broad just wrote about similar life changes, as did Loukia of Loulou's Views.

Emotionally speaking, I can say all the obvious things like you'll be exhausted, overwhelmed (by everything good and bad), and in utter awe of life in general. I find it hard to believe that someone couldn't be touched, and touched deeply, by the miracle that is a newborn life (barring anything as awful as post-partum depression, that is). But I think most about-to-be-parents know that something is going to change in them; they've heard about it enough from every Tom, Dick, and Harry by now, I'm sure.

The less obvious things are what I'm talking about, like how your relationship with your partner will change. Anthony and I experienced an intense sense of bonding during that first week we spent with Hollis. I was caught completely by surprise by this fierce tenderness. I have never loved him more than I did in that magical week. Hollis epitomized our bonding: he is half of each of us and this is no fucking joke. We are now parents, a family.

Our relationship prior to parenthood consisted of arguments about how we would spend our spare time together (Anthony wanted to be alone to recharge, and I together, of course). I look back on that and think what a waste of time and energy! If only we'd known how truly precious and special that time was I'm sure we would have spent it differently. And it's not about being bogged down by childcare now, either, it's an effortlessness that we once had as child-free parents that we will NEVER have again, even if our kids are somewhere else. It's like that moment I had on the greenbelt trail when I saw all the girls with their dogs and I thought, "Wow, that used to be me and all I ever had to worry about was buying dog kibble and what I wanted to do that night."

Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining in the least. I wear my new found parenthood badge with pride. I have a son, a child, a person I created. I would feel no less proud if I had adopted, for the record - I don't want this to seem I think it's all hinged on birth, because it's not. I had a [much smaller] shift of self when I adopted Levi, too - it's the whole idea that there is more to "me" than just ME. There is an OTHER who colors every single thing that I do and I am eternally happy about it.

No one told me about this shift would happen. I suspect it's the knowing look every parent gave me when I was pregnant because they knew it would happen, just as it'd happened with them. And with this shift I am a thousand times more protective of my family than I ever was of my coupleness with Anthony. Who knew that'd happen?? I have a family to take care of and watch over now so y'all better back off! The cares and concerns of my little unit are numero uno now. I allow others in based on connections, love, and relationships, not just for a good time. I'm a discerning human being now whereas I used to let anyone in whenever they wanted.

I don't necessarily wish someone had told me that the amount of lurv I would feel would be so ridiculous, but it's worth mentioning that it might not happen immediately. Eventually it will, but it happens at different times for everyone. It sorta snuck up on me with Hollis, I can't really pinpoint the exact moment. It was just the accumulation of a thousand little moments I suppose. It's like a high, feeling that love inside of me. I feel like sunshine is bursting from my veins and I don't care who sees it. Nothing makes me happier than to see Hollis doing anything at all. Or to see Anthony with him. It's so fucking cliche I don't even really want to give it that much space here.

No one was ever able to truly describe to me how hard it is to live with a newborn, either. Like the love I'd feel for my baby I had an idea, but couldn't really understand it until I lived it first hand. It is by far the most difficult thing I've EVER done in my life (and I've done a lot of hard shit) because I would never allow myself to dissolve into meanness or anger - and that was a Herculean effort. Anthony and I had our fair share of shitty nights when Hollis never slept more than an hour or two at a time (this went on for what seemed like almost a year).

I have clear memories of Anthony seething at me, up at the end of the bed in his underwear, just back from Hollis' room only to hear him crying again, mad that I hadn't gotten up "that time" with Hollis. And me biting back that he didn't need to be an "asshole!! I've been up every hour for the past 3!" and then crying because this wasn't how Anthony and I operate and I was oh so goddamned tired. We were just the worst versions of ourselves, tortured with sleep deprivation beyond all reasonable thoughts. (And just to be clear, Anthony was never really an "asshole," we were both just exhausted and worried we were doing something wrong that Hollis didn't sleep for very long at a time and if we were ruining him, etc., etc., and of course we took it out on each other).

And that's another thing: YOU WILL TAKE IT OUT ON YOUR PARTNER. No one told me I'd become a cranky and resentful shit. No one told me Anthony would become a droopy-eyed viper. But there it is. We were. And might be once again with the next baby. It's just the trial by fire every relationship must go through, I suppose. And once you make it, I swear you feel like your partnership can handle anything. If you're lucky, anyway. I think, honestly, it's why most marriages end after a baby's in the mix if you've married because of a pregnancy. It's just so fucking hard.

Becoming a parent will also make you feel like you're in a club you never even knew existed. Anyone and everyone will talk to you if you have a baby with you. I'm finally, after almost two years, used to it. I rarely will initiate contact with someone else, but I've come to terms with the fact that means nothing to anyone else who wants to poke, squeeze, touch, or otherwise engage Hollis.

I also have more understanding of my own parents and what they went through and less compassion for my father in particular for the things he chose to do to us, because HOW COULD HE?? How could any parent be so rotten and in such a deliberately destructive way?? I have even more respect in how hard my mom worked to break her own parenting cycles and be a better mother than her mother.

And no one told me I'd become a blubbering fool whenever I heard about a divorce with kids because now it's the end of a family. I can cry rivers for the pain they must all be in, especially the children. My own parents' divorce elicited one night of crying when I was 10 and so now I'm making up for lost time, apparently. The end of my pairing with Anthony is unfathomable... I can't even begin to wrap my head around something like that and so I naturally apply that same mindset to others, whether or not it's true. So, then come the waterworks.

So, there you have it, what I wish someone had told me about being a mother:

• You may not be immediately overwhelmed by love for your baby
• You may be overwhelmed by love for your partner, though
• A shift from a Couple to a Family occurs, and yes, they are different
  
• Living with a newborn/baby is one of the hardest things you'll ever have to do
• You will get nasty with your partner during those sleep-deprived months
• You will become a card-carrying member of The ParentHood willingly, or not
• You may understand your parents, and thus your childhood more
• You may become a big fat softy
  

What were some of the things YOU wished you'd known about??

I guess I'll do a Part 2 of this for the little tricks and gadgets no one ever told me about since this is so damn long.

Grown up decisions

I'm sure a lot of you have had to make big girl and boy decisions in your life and none are more important than those that affect your family. The big decision Anthony and I made was to have him take a job that required more travel. Yes, the dreaded word, TRAVEL, is now a firm part of our vernacular.

At first, it was no biggie. Anthony's start date was literally right after Hollis was born. He went out of town a week in December. It was hard on both of us, mostly born out of fear (mine about being totally alone with an infant) and loneliness (his about missing out on his baby's baby-ness).

As the months have passed his travel has increased incrementally with my parenting savvy and his resilience to being away. We talk late at night in the dark about how we'll manage the times apart, deliberate in our choice to make our times together quality moments, and uncertain about how to balance his career advancement with our focus and devotion to family (two things which are never cohorts, but instead fierce competitors).

We need him to make more money, but we always ask, "At what cost??" Neither one of us are willing to have him gone all the time just so we can make more money. We're both certain that we'd rather pinch and save and have a fuller, richer home life. It begins to get tricky when Anthony has outgrown his current job responsibilities and yearns for more. And as everyone knows more responsibilities equals more demands equals more work equals more time away. Rarely does moving up mean more time at home. Fucking sucks.

So now we're gearing up for a major blast of travel. Anthony has tentative plans to be away for five of the next seven weeks, with possibly more. We look at it as something we decided to do for our family at this particular time, but I'm very careful to not think of it as ideal. Again, Anthony struggles because he loves what he's doing, and has found a new passion in travel, but misses me and Hollis desperately when he's gone. It's a crap situation in some ways. It's too bad that he can't pack us along. Wouldn't that be great? haha It's what celebrities do: they just cart their peeps around with them, schedules allowing. I can see why.

The next thing we'll have to do is navigate the corporate ladder and its demands. I'm hesitant to agree to more travel. As it stands, Anthony's gone at least once a month from a day to a week's time.

This whole situation reminds me of an Ethics professor I had at St. Ed's. He was a lawyer and judge, in his 70's, at least, and brilliant. He wore button down shirts with animals on them (the giraffes were my favorite) and reddish brown cowboy boots. He had a shock of white hair, but had he not had this age identifier, from behind you'd think he was a 30-something year old man; his joints were loose, he had a spring in his step, he seemed strong and confident. I liked to make ribald innuendos just see him smile sheepishly and turn bright red at the front of class.

And I'll never forget the day he turned to us, twenty prospective counselors from all walks of life, and drew this graph on the chalkboard, circling the end:


This was the amount of stress we might be under today, he explained. No biggie, right?

Then, he drew a couple of big jumps up. He said we'd all know notice it right away and think, "Crap. This sucks!" because it happened abruptly, such as a death in the family, and we'd most likely take time off, reflect, and rest - which was a good thing, but not really his point:



Then he started adding little steps, explaining that each one was just "a little more" stress. Finally, at the far end of the chalk board he stopped and drew an arc from the end to the beginning:


"What do you think happens at this point?" We all blinked. "You have a breakdown. Anybody know why??" More blinking. "Because, look at where you started. This isn't 'just a little more stress,' it's a huge amount more than what is healthy and manageable and you never lowered your stress. You never really noticed it was increasing because you kept handling it, kept on 'stepping up.' But this is dangerous. If it's a little over a longer period of time you ignore it, tell yourself you can handle it, to suck it up... Until one day, you can't anymore. And your life, family, and clients will suffer for it. You must always be aware of the little steps up and take care to get your stress levels back down. Always."

Suffice it to say. He made his point and I will never, ever forget the lesson. This is what I'm worried about with the travel thing. I'm willing to be the wet blanket and the constant travel-warden if I have to because the last thing I want to have happen is my marriage and family to fall apart because I no longer know my husband or have a relationship to call my own.

How do people do it? I know so many couples who travel and are separated and I'm not so sure, really, how many are happy with it. But for those who do it and succeed and love it, what's the secret? Are they even aware of the Steps to No Where?? Do they think they're immune? Because God knows I don't think I am. It's a good thing I bought some Lotto tickets yesterday...

I miss him already

Horse will be joining Anthony on a world-wide trip to Japan, Greece, Romania, and Portugal!

I count it as a supremely good thing that I teared up when I said goodbye to Anthony this morning. I'm truly going to miss him for the next two weeks (TWO WEEKS!). It will be the longest we've ever been apart since we met. I don't have a clue how so many other couples spend months at a time separated. God, that's gotta be just awful.

On the other hand, maybe it works for them. Maybe they like their space. I dunno. I just know that if I didn't see Anthony all the time it somehow wouldn't feel as real, as gritty and visceral as it does now. I know every little minute detail of his life and he mine. He knows that I click my teeth as I'm falling asleep. I know he wears tighty-whities. He knows I spend hours every week plucking. I know he has taken a keen interest in how his 'do looks lately. It's these things that I find so special. There's no one else in the universe that knows me like he does. I feel safe with him.

A friend of mine recently asked me if I considered my relationship to be a happy and successful one. The answer is a resounding YES (sorry for answering your questions here, Jalinda May Bird! I'll write you a proper letter, too! And soon!). The thing of it is is I want this relationship to work more than anything in the world. It's the foundation for my entire life and that of my son's. If my marriage isn't working, then, really, nothing's working, is it? I'd be confused, off balance, unhappy, and most likely, making my needs the last on the priority list - because that's what I do when shit ain't right.

To say that communication is the most important aspect of my relationship with Anthony is an understatement. And that almost feels trite to say, but it's true. It entails so much more than just talking. We both have a intense desire to work things out to the very end. We never walk away from an issue, are always considerate with each other, and if not right at the beginning of a disagreement, we always come around to the root issue, the REAL reason we're fighting.

A good example of this is when we were planning the wedding. Anthony really wanted to be involved. He didn't want to just "show up" to the alter and think, "Wow, all this is great!" He wanted to choose flowers, venues, decor, the works. At first, I thought, "Great!" but I quickly realized that he didn't really have the ambition to do the research, etc., like I did. We'd get into arguments because I was exhausted from working on stuff but Anthony still didn't like what I was offering him. To me, on the surface, it seemed like he was being a dick and contrarian. He thought I was being insufferable and controlling. Eventually, I realized I felt like he was the only one with veto power and I didn't like that. He came around to seeing my point because, yeah, he had nothing to offer other than, "Yeah... I don't really like that." So we came to a compromise: he would understand that the 5 or 6 options I was showing him were the cheapest and best I could find and he had to choose from those OR find something on his own. He felt less pushed around and I felt less subordinate.

The reason I even went into all of that is because we could have easily fallen into major fights about this stuff. It took us a few rounds to finally figure out he felt over-looked and I felt inconsequential, but we did, and it's really flavored the rest of our relationship. Where am I really coming from? is something I'm always asking myself.

We're not perfect. Faaaaar from it, but we have what I think is most important and that's a true commitment to this union, the utmost respect for one another, and the ability to communicate (almost) ego-less. We're honest, but gentle; open, but have boundaries; and loving, but not smuthering. It's a good thing.

If I had any advice for any single peeps out there, or peeps who are dating, it'd be to do this: make a Deal Breaker List. The reason for this is because any random asshole can have the things you want. There are millions of guys out there who are nice to their mothers, like cats, are outgoing, and who are good kissers, but who also happen to be punitive fighters, selfish lovers, flakey, stingy, and who like racist jokes. Know what you don't want, definitively, and the rest will follow and it may come in a completely unlikely package.

To Anthony: I miss you already and can't wait to chat with you in Japan! Love you, Hoobie!!!!!