Hiya!
Testing, one, two, three. tap, tap, tap. Is this thing working? Hello, anyone out there? Oh, there you are. Okay, um hi! It’s me...Missie. Missie who, you say? Now that’s not very nice. I realize that I haven’t posted in a few weeks. Okay, a few months. Okay, quite a stinking long time, get off my back! I know you probably feel a little neglected by me and for that, I am sorry. I could give you a load about how busy my work and home life have been and with one thing after another, something had to give, and that something was my blog-entry-writing, but I won’t do that. You guys are just as busy as I am, and yet you still make time to come over here and check out what we (and by we, I mean Robyn) have written, so I won’t insult your intelligence by trying to make myself look busier or more harried than you. But just so ya know, I am busy and harried. So there. Waah.
Anyhoooo, I have been meaning to post for awhile now, as I have had oh so many ideas for pithy postings running to and fro through my brain. However, as many of you authors know, the journey from idea to writing to making it make sense and sound like it does in your head can be a long one. And frankly, after I am done doing what I do at the end of the day, I just don’t have it in me to take that journey. So today, you are getting bits and pieces of the morass of craziness that has been on my mind lately. No need to thank me.
First off, let me say how sorry I was to hear of the passing of Crocodile Hunter Steve Irwin. For those of you who may not know, he was killed when the barb of a stingray lodged right beneath his heart while he was swimming in the Great Barrier Reef this weekend. While I find it sad when anyone dies, what particularly grieves me about Steve’s death is that he leaves behind two little kids who will now face life without the daddy who loved them so much. Be your opinion of him good, bad, or indifferent, there can really be no doubt that he loved his family. If you have a chance, say a prayer for them during this difficult time.
And speaking of kids and family, I ran across a post on a blog I read very regularly that summed up what I have been feeling lately. It was written by Rebecca Jordan over at Clubmom.com on her blog called Just a Normal Day. In it, she introduces what will be her main topic for the month of September, and that is marriage. Her first post is very thought provoking in that she addresses how hard marriage can be. And how no one tells you how hard it can be before you get married. Robyn and I have discussed this at some length during our we-could-totally-solve-the-problems-of-the-world-if-they-would-just-listen-to-us-duhhh phone marathons. Marriage is hard. No matter what type of personality you are and what type you married, marriage can be a difficult row to hoe sometimes. It’s not all flowers and sunshine and cute little hearts flying out your butt. It can be difficult and draining and ugggh! Between kids and jobs and bills and the everyday everydayness, many marriages suffer because the parties weren’t aware that this is it. This is what marriage is. It is the bills and the kids and the jobs and the soccer practice and the dentist appointments and the anger and the frustration and the ohmygoodness does he even know me at all? This is why I think so many marriages fail. Because those involved don’t know what to do when the luster wears off and they are left with this daunting task of building a life with this person day by day, challenge by challenge.
Now, please understand me. I love my husband. I am crazy in love with my husband. In my opinion, he is the most handsome man to have ever walked the face of this earth, and I feel very blessed that it’s my bed he crawls into at night. There is not anyone else I want to be with, nor is there anyone else I can picture myself with. He is it. He is my it. But when we first got married, I was not prepared for the amount of effort marriage took. I thought that since he was in love with me, and I was in love with him, and miracle of all miracles we found each other and got married, that everything would be hunky-dory and our days would be spent in a bubble of love floating high above the mere mortals we knew who were in "regular marriages". Our marriage was not regular! Oh, no! We were young and enlightened and blessed and happy and ready to take the world by storm! I was everything he ever needed in a woman and he was my ideal man! What could be more perfect? (Anyone else need a barf bag?)
So imagine my surprise when he was not thrilled with every little thing I did. Was he not supposed to think my foibles were adorable? You mean he actually was going to get angry with me and yell if I made him mad? Who did he think he was, anyway? And all his idiosyncracies that were just so cute? Yeah, after awhile, they rubbed me the wrong way. He had flaws? Since when? I saw none of those while we dated! I demand a recount! Or a review of the vows! There has to be something somewhere that says I am always right except for when I am wrong and if I am wrong it was most assuredly his fault.
He was not like the hero of a romance novel. He did not always know when to bring me flowers and when to compliment my hair and when to wine and dine me or when to just hold me. He didn’t know exactly when I wanted him to be all Alpha Male and sweep me off my feet. What was wrong with him? Hadn’t he ever read Cosmo? He was supposed to anticipate my every need and be ready, willing, and able to meet it with nary a word of dissent. Geez. Who taught him how to be a husband? And when he realized the full extent of my lack of food preparation experience and knowledge? Well, he should have just been satisfied with Kraft Mac and Cheese forever, and not asked that I learn how to cook. Pig. Didn’t he say I was perfect when we dated? Then that means I shouldn’t have to change anything ever, no way. So there. Get used to crappy meals, buddy.
I look back on our first few years of marriage and shudder. I cannot believe how selfish and immature I was. I cannot believe that I thought that just by getting married, the hard part was over. I still had sooo much growing up to do. I had no idea that this growing and changing and learning to be a wife business was a life long process. I regret how I treated my husband when we were first married. I wish I could go back and change from a stupid little girl who had nothing more important to do than her hair into the type of wife he deserved.
Marriage wasn’t all about me. It was all about us. And the making of an us. That’s what it really boils down to. The making of an us. And it is in this making of an us that I have found a love beyond what I ever dreamed was possible. I have found fulfillment and joy and peace and a sense of purpose. In the making of our us, we’ve faced storms and trials. We’ve also found happiness, contentment, and completion. And we added to our us with two little "us-es" who bring light and life and indescribable joy to our hearts.
But this us-making isn’t easy.
If you are part of an us, then you know of what I speak. And if you are not yet part of an us, but hope to someday be, let me give you a word of advice. Choose wisely. Choose carefully. If that means you have to wait longer for Mr. Right, then that’s okay. Because in choosing the other half of your us, you are making the most important decision of your life. This is the person you will be in the trenches with, day in and day out. This is the person who will be there for you when all the dust settles and everyone else has gone home. This is the person who will pick up the milk you forgot from the store, pick up the kids from the sitter, and pick up the pieces of your broken heart when life gets too much.
So be very selective. Don’t settle. You’re making an us here.
Anyhoooo, I have been meaning to post for awhile now, as I have had oh so many ideas for pithy postings running to and fro through my brain. However, as many of you authors know, the journey from idea to writing to making it make sense and sound like it does in your head can be a long one. And frankly, after I am done doing what I do at the end of the day, I just don’t have it in me to take that journey. So today, you are getting bits and pieces of the morass of craziness that has been on my mind lately. No need to thank me.
First off, let me say how sorry I was to hear of the passing of Crocodile Hunter Steve Irwin. For those of you who may not know, he was killed when the barb of a stingray lodged right beneath his heart while he was swimming in the Great Barrier Reef this weekend. While I find it sad when anyone dies, what particularly grieves me about Steve’s death is that he leaves behind two little kids who will now face life without the daddy who loved them so much. Be your opinion of him good, bad, or indifferent, there can really be no doubt that he loved his family. If you have a chance, say a prayer for them during this difficult time.
And speaking of kids and family, I ran across a post on a blog I read very regularly that summed up what I have been feeling lately. It was written by Rebecca Jordan over at Clubmom.com on her blog called Just a Normal Day. In it, she introduces what will be her main topic for the month of September, and that is marriage. Her first post is very thought provoking in that she addresses how hard marriage can be. And how no one tells you how hard it can be before you get married. Robyn and I have discussed this at some length during our we-could-totally-solve-the-problems-of-the-world-if-they-would-just-listen-to-us-duhhh phone marathons. Marriage is hard. No matter what type of personality you are and what type you married, marriage can be a difficult row to hoe sometimes. It’s not all flowers and sunshine and cute little hearts flying out your butt. It can be difficult and draining and ugggh! Between kids and jobs and bills and the everyday everydayness, many marriages suffer because the parties weren’t aware that this is it. This is what marriage is. It is the bills and the kids and the jobs and the soccer practice and the dentist appointments and the anger and the frustration and the ohmygoodness does he even know me at all? This is why I think so many marriages fail. Because those involved don’t know what to do when the luster wears off and they are left with this daunting task of building a life with this person day by day, challenge by challenge.
Now, please understand me. I love my husband. I am crazy in love with my husband. In my opinion, he is the most handsome man to have ever walked the face of this earth, and I feel very blessed that it’s my bed he crawls into at night. There is not anyone else I want to be with, nor is there anyone else I can picture myself with. He is it. He is my it. But when we first got married, I was not prepared for the amount of effort marriage took. I thought that since he was in love with me, and I was in love with him, and miracle of all miracles we found each other and got married, that everything would be hunky-dory and our days would be spent in a bubble of love floating high above the mere mortals we knew who were in "regular marriages". Our marriage was not regular! Oh, no! We were young and enlightened and blessed and happy and ready to take the world by storm! I was everything he ever needed in a woman and he was my ideal man! What could be more perfect? (Anyone else need a barf bag?)
So imagine my surprise when he was not thrilled with every little thing I did. Was he not supposed to think my foibles were adorable? You mean he actually was going to get angry with me and yell if I made him mad? Who did he think he was, anyway? And all his idiosyncracies that were just so cute? Yeah, after awhile, they rubbed me the wrong way. He had flaws? Since when? I saw none of those while we dated! I demand a recount! Or a review of the vows! There has to be something somewhere that says I am always right except for when I am wrong and if I am wrong it was most assuredly his fault.
He was not like the hero of a romance novel. He did not always know when to bring me flowers and when to compliment my hair and when to wine and dine me or when to just hold me. He didn’t know exactly when I wanted him to be all Alpha Male and sweep me off my feet. What was wrong with him? Hadn’t he ever read Cosmo? He was supposed to anticipate my every need and be ready, willing, and able to meet it with nary a word of dissent. Geez. Who taught him how to be a husband? And when he realized the full extent of my lack of food preparation experience and knowledge? Well, he should have just been satisfied with Kraft Mac and Cheese forever, and not asked that I learn how to cook. Pig. Didn’t he say I was perfect when we dated? Then that means I shouldn’t have to change anything ever, no way. So there. Get used to crappy meals, buddy.
I look back on our first few years of marriage and shudder. I cannot believe how selfish and immature I was. I cannot believe that I thought that just by getting married, the hard part was over. I still had sooo much growing up to do. I had no idea that this growing and changing and learning to be a wife business was a life long process. I regret how I treated my husband when we were first married. I wish I could go back and change from a stupid little girl who had nothing more important to do than her hair into the type of wife he deserved.
Marriage wasn’t all about me. It was all about us. And the making of an us. That’s what it really boils down to. The making of an us. And it is in this making of an us that I have found a love beyond what I ever dreamed was possible. I have found fulfillment and joy and peace and a sense of purpose. In the making of our us, we’ve faced storms and trials. We’ve also found happiness, contentment, and completion. And we added to our us with two little "us-es" who bring light and life and indescribable joy to our hearts.
But this us-making isn’t easy.
If you are part of an us, then you know of what I speak. And if you are not yet part of an us, but hope to someday be, let me give you a word of advice. Choose wisely. Choose carefully. If that means you have to wait longer for Mr. Right, then that’s okay. Because in choosing the other half of your us, you are making the most important decision of your life. This is the person you will be in the trenches with, day in and day out. This is the person who will be there for you when all the dust settles and everyone else has gone home. This is the person who will pick up the milk you forgot from the store, pick up the kids from the sitter, and pick up the pieces of your broken heart when life gets too much.
So be very selective. Don’t settle. You’re making an us here.
posted by Missie | 11:45 AM
5 Comments:
Yeah, but when you post you get all YodaMissie and stuff. I just giggle over protuberances.
And my son took Steve Irwin's death hard. Dave loved him so much; it's hard to lose a hero anytime, but especially when you're young.
Wise girl.
I couldn't agree more.
If some political/social conservatism doesn't bother you, a woman named Danielle Crittenden wrote a book with an excellent chapter on just this subject. It's called What Our Mothers Never Told Us.
DQ,
That sounds like it would be worth reading. I can't tell you the number of times I have looked at my mom over the years and said, "How come you never told me about...?"
great post! :) i'm single, and i'm listening. :) don't worry.
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