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Friday, November 30, 2012

The Moments that Define You

There are moments in life that define who you are and make you realize what is important in your life.  I'm fairly grounded to the point that the only things that truly matter to me are my husband and my "Things".  Last night was one of those moments for me.  One of the most terrifying in my life.  An instant that passed too slowly and that made me break down and take stock of all that I have...  Let me illustrate...

I was making dinner.  My son's job is to set the table.  We were out of napkins.  Napkins.  Stupid fuhking napkins.  Napkins that could have changed my entire life in the blink of an eye.  My son went down stairs to the pantry to get more napkins.   Or, that was the intent.

What actually happened is that he went down five stairs and then fell as-over-tea-kettle down the next  eight to wind up laid out on the concrete floor of our basement.  Screaming ensued.  He screamed.  We ran.  We screamed.  My husband screamed for him not to move.  I screamed for my husband not to touch him.

He was taken to the hospital where luckily he was un-concussed and banged up pretty badly, but OK.  Five horrible, excruciating hours later he and his father returned home.  I didn't sleep.  I worried.  I thought about what if's.  What if he had broken his neck?  What if he didn't come home?  What if I didn't have him?

I've cried.  I've sat thinking that I'm not much without him.  I've learned that he's part of my soul, and there isn't a deal that I didn't offer up to God to just have him OK.  I've experienced loss before, I've been afraid, I'd thought I knew what was important in life.  This.  This was different.  This was terror.  Sheer pure, utter, undefinable terror.  And as parents, we walk this line quietly every day: when your child gets on a bus, when your child goes to play at a friend's, when your child gets sick - but those moments shout at you in moments of crisis.

Those moments define who you are and what you are capable of.  And these moments make you thankful for every breath you take and realize how fragile your reality is.  I've thanked God countless times in the last 24 hours, and I'm thankful for all the offers of help and concern.  Mostly, I'm thankful for the guardian angel that kept my gentle son safe.  I'm certainly have countless blessings.

Thursday, November 22, 2012

Happy Thanksgiving!

Today it seems appropriate to take stock of my life and be thankful for everything that I am fortunate enough to have.  With that in mind, I wanted to share with you all the one thing that I am grateful for above all other things: my husband.

I know the dangers of wrapping your happiness around one person, with so many variables, unknowns and out-of-your-control instances in life - but my current joy comes not from what the future may hold, but what he has brought me in the past.  The last 14 years (well, 14 years in a few more days) have been the most wonder years that anyone could have asked for.

This man, regardless of what our to-be's might be, has brought me immeasurable gifts in my time on this planet (more than 1/3 of which has been spent with him).  He's given me the three most gorgeous children I could have ever imagined.  He's granted me peace and a soothing tongue when dealing with their uh...fiery spirits.  He's made us all feel safe and loved and secure.  And his presence has made our house into a welcoming home where we all can feel watched out for.

He's given me the most cherished present I could ask for outside of our family: laughter.  Every day, it seems, he's made me laugh.  I've spent hours with him, doing nothing, and reveling in how hilarious our situations can be and are.  He's made me giggle, chortle, snort, and cry from his dorky attempts at humor.

He's brought me reality.  Not your reality, nor theirs; but ours.  And it's perfect.  From my controlling nature, his procrastination, my eldest's need for approval, my middle's quirkiness and my youngest's mischievousness - it's real.  Every last minute of it.  It's ours, and we own it and we love it.  We don't look to others and what they have and wish it were ours.  We find our way to be content in the here & now - something I've struggled with prior to him showing me it can happen.

And he's given me love.  Love that fills my heart, my mind and my soul.  Love that consumes me.  Love that renews itself every now and then - making me even more appreciative of what he's shown me.  A love that is never taken for granted with late night phone calls when he travels (like we carried on when we started dating), with random dancing in my kitchen while making dinner and with soft smiles and knowing touches when our busy lives don't have time for anything else.

No matter how short or how long my life may be, I'm thankful today and every day (and even those days I hardly seem it) for the moments, big and small, that you've already provided.  Thank you, Brannon for being you and more than I could have imagined a person capable of.  I was lost and I was broken...thank you for finding me.

Friday, November 2, 2012

Brusha, brusha, brusha...

Living with someone is difficult.  You bring your own brand of neurosis that you've had to deal with your entire life, and they bring theirs to the abode.  My husband and I discovered early on how to live with each other peacefully, but it wasn't easy.  In the beginning, it was the little things.  The inconsequential things we learned are what truly destroy relationships.  Not money, not differing political opinions, no - much more serious things...like toothpaste.

See, when we moved in together we each brought our own idea of utopia to our homestead.  Having grown up vastly different, we discovered quickly which set the other off (yes, he gets angry too!).  

The largest of all these issues was the toothpaste.  We used the same kind.  We shared a tube.  Let me explain what happens when a psychotic neat freak moves in with a closet slob: we fought.  A lot.  Over toothpaste.  He gooed it on his brush, smooshed the cap back on and rolled the damned tube up.  I would clean it off, clean out the cap, unroll it, push the toothpaste up and go on my way.  That is until I couldn't take it any more.

We had a knock down drag out, over toothpaste.  You wonder how two intelligent, higher educated individuals could fight over toothpaste, I'll tell you.  Ever have someone constantly following you undoing everything you had just done?  That is what we both felt like.  It was a HUGE issue.  We learned quickly that these seemingly tiny issues are what hold the key to a relationship's unraveling.  We resorted to name calling:

"Globber!"
"Anal control freak!"
"You're gross!  Pig..."
"You're bossy!"

There was pent up anger...yes, over toothpaste.  You think, "Hell, it's just toothpaste!" and you push it down.  Finally it reared it's ugly head and a battle over toothpaste turned into a battle over every other little thing that drove us mad about the other.  Toothpaste.  And because it was such a small issue, it never dawned on either of us to buy separate tubes.  Why in the hell would we do that?  We use the same kind!  Who has two tubes of the same kind of toothpaste laying around being used?

After the last fight in our apartment over this then $2 item, I had had enough!  I stomped out and went straight to the store with the "I'll show him!" mentality.  I bought my own tube!  OMG!  I said it!  I bought my own tube of toothpaste!  It was liberating!  It was refreshing!  And most of all from my point of view, my tube was pristine looking.

And the fighting ceased.  Completely.  Toothpaste.  Really?  Yes...  We've since learned that we have to stop sweating the small stuff.  It's the small stuff that grows & festers and turns into something much larger...like bread.  When you first knead it, it's a small ball...let it sit around a few hours at room temperature and you have something much, much bigger.  Since then, we've called the little things that bother us in this wonderful life together "toothpaste".  We've learned to air them and take immediate action, lest they rise and become ready to be baked into something solid.

And we've learned everyone has toothpaste in their life.  What's your toothpaste?