It's here again, Christmas in May for Moms. I love Mother's Day. My family spoils me rotten, and for at least one day out of the year, they go out of their way to make sure I know that they get it. That they got ALL of it - the teaching, the admonishing, the guiding and most of all the loving.
I've raised a couple of very good kids. Well, my husband and I have. And no, my husband is not their biological father. I can't tell you how many sleepless nights I've spent worrying that my divorcing their father would somehow screw up my children for the rest of their lives. It's a tough position to be in, and I will be the first to say, divorce is awful. Horrible. I do not recommend it unless NOT divorcing would be more harmful. In our case that was true, so I made the difficult decision to leave about 15 years ago, and I've never looked back.
I am happy to say that my children (now 19 and 21) are OK. Would I have preferred they be spared that nightmare? Yes, without a doubt. But I am a better mother and (I believe) their father is a better father under these circumstances. And I will also say that bringing my husband into the picture has only benefitted us all, and I mean immensely.
It can be done. It takes at least twice as much work, but raising well-adjusted children out of divorce can be done. My sincerest recommendation, however, is that no one marry until you're 30. What on earth does any of us know before then? And 30 may be cutting it close, but we women are on sort of a tight schedule with respect to reproducing, so we'll let 30 stand. And if your mama has given you a "marrying material" checklist - and this applies to men as well as women - copy it. Laminate the copies. Stick one on your fridge, one on your car visor and one on your headboard. She knows what she's talking about.
Showing posts with label marriage. Show all posts
Showing posts with label marriage. Show all posts
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Friday, April 29, 2011
Ahh. It's Friday... Happy Anniversary Kate & Willie!
I suppose I'd be remiss if I didn't mention the big shindig that took place around 4 am DST today. William and Kate got married. Now I know I've ragged on this event all month; i just think it's so silly for news people to giggle and gossip about how the bride might wear her hair, or what her dress will look like, for months on end. Guess I'm not very girly that way. Like in a Matt Lauer way, I mean.
I must say, though, that William looked so handsome and she so beautiful. You just have to like them, this newly married couple. They're adorable, they seem to be as down-to-earth as they could possibly be given the circumstances, and they seem to want to act more like people than like gods in human form. And of course I couldnt help thinking how sad it was that his beautiful mom couldn't be there to see her son marry.
Do you know that some news anchor or another recently said that Charles actually has a servant whose job it is to put the toothpaste on his toothbrush for him? Would you really want a guy like that running your country someday? I dunno. I prefer more of a man's man, one who can prepare to brush his own teeth. I jokingly made the remark one day that I doubt he can use the bathroom by himself. Not so funny when you consider it might be true, is it?
Anyhoo, the wedding was lovely, one that only the British could pull off, I daresay. I'm kinda glad it's over though. Enough is enough. Let them live their lives the way they choose. Neither seems the type to embarrass the country or shame the royal family, God forbid. There's been enough of that.
I have to wonder, if we had a royal family here in the States, from whom would it be descended? George Washington? Michael Jackson? O.J. Simpson? Yikes. Makes me shudder. Let's just stick with the "highest office goes to the highest bidder" system we have now. At least we all know the rules.
Congrats, Kate and William, No hard feelings. Mail delivery here in our neighborhood is slow, and I have no doubt the invitation will show up next week sometime.
I must say, though, that William looked so handsome and she so beautiful. You just have to like them, this newly married couple. They're adorable, they seem to be as down-to-earth as they could possibly be given the circumstances, and they seem to want to act more like people than like gods in human form. And of course I couldnt help thinking how sad it was that his beautiful mom couldn't be there to see her son marry.
Do you know that some news anchor or another recently said that Charles actually has a servant whose job it is to put the toothpaste on his toothbrush for him? Would you really want a guy like that running your country someday? I dunno. I prefer more of a man's man, one who can prepare to brush his own teeth. I jokingly made the remark one day that I doubt he can use the bathroom by himself. Not so funny when you consider it might be true, is it?
Anyhoo, the wedding was lovely, one that only the British could pull off, I daresay. I'm kinda glad it's over though. Enough is enough. Let them live their lives the way they choose. Neither seems the type to embarrass the country or shame the royal family, God forbid. There's been enough of that.
I have to wonder, if we had a royal family here in the States, from whom would it be descended? George Washington? Michael Jackson? O.J. Simpson? Yikes. Makes me shudder. Let's just stick with the "highest office goes to the highest bidder" system we have now. At least we all know the rules.
Congrats, Kate and William, No hard feelings. Mail delivery here in our neighborhood is slow, and I have no doubt the invitation will show up next week sometime.
Friday, April 1, 2011
Isn't there some kinda wedding later this month?
Why are people so fascinated with the "royal family" in Great Britain? I never got that. Here in the states, we call families that breed too close to home, well, in-breeds. It makes for some weird physical characteristics and some odd behaviors.
I had a veterinarian explain to me once that pure-bred dogs have so many health and behavior issues because they have been OVER-bred to the point of, let's say, diminishing returns. A labrador retriever will work itself into a lather over a flashlight beam on a wall, chasing it until he collapses in exhaustion. A pure shepherd will gnaw on its foot til it falls off. A poodle will bark its brains out if it hears a particular sound. In other words, their gene pool is too shallow. The wiring is fried.
I have always secretly thought that, if one were to ever catch Charles with his socks and shoes off, one would probably discover he has a few extra toes. He just doesn't look right and let's face it folks, he preferred Camilla to Diana. That makes no sense whatsoever. I remember back when Charles and Diana were courting and finally married. All the talk in the media was "Oh, the lucky commoner...marrying into royalty!" I used to think, "She's hardly the lucky one. She's getting a constipated mother-in-law and a gawky jerk with an overbite out of the deal."
And now the pendulum swings back. William is marrying, and he appears to be marrying a beautiful, charming "commoner" with common sense and a bit of disdain for the pomp and circumstance that comes with the "royal family." In fact, didn't I hear that they will not have a lot of servants in their new home? I believe I also heard that Charles has hundreds of them, because he is incapable of wiping himself without a servant to oversee the process. I don't think he actually believes he's a run-of-the-mill human.
At any rate, I will be glad when all the fuss dies down. I do not care what kind of cereal William ate this morning, I do not care who's making Kate's dress. I do not care to download all the recipes for the canapes we can expect to see served at the reception. I do not care what happened at the bachelor party or the bachelorette party, and I do not care that William wil not be wearing a ring. Who cares? Do we really think he's going to cruise bars trying to pass himself off as a single bloke? It's just silly.
In England, the people are informed daily of all these trivial details, but here in the States we get involved by our illustrious leader in yet another war and have to hear about it on the news after the fact.
I just don't get it.
I had a veterinarian explain to me once that pure-bred dogs have so many health and behavior issues because they have been OVER-bred to the point of, let's say, diminishing returns. A labrador retriever will work itself into a lather over a flashlight beam on a wall, chasing it until he collapses in exhaustion. A pure shepherd will gnaw on its foot til it falls off. A poodle will bark its brains out if it hears a particular sound. In other words, their gene pool is too shallow. The wiring is fried.
I have always secretly thought that, if one were to ever catch Charles with his socks and shoes off, one would probably discover he has a few extra toes. He just doesn't look right and let's face it folks, he preferred Camilla to Diana. That makes no sense whatsoever. I remember back when Charles and Diana were courting and finally married. All the talk in the media was "Oh, the lucky commoner...marrying into royalty!" I used to think, "She's hardly the lucky one. She's getting a constipated mother-in-law and a gawky jerk with an overbite out of the deal."
And now the pendulum swings back. William is marrying, and he appears to be marrying a beautiful, charming "commoner" with common sense and a bit of disdain for the pomp and circumstance that comes with the "royal family." In fact, didn't I hear that they will not have a lot of servants in their new home? I believe I also heard that Charles has hundreds of them, because he is incapable of wiping himself without a servant to oversee the process. I don't think he actually believes he's a run-of-the-mill human.
At any rate, I will be glad when all the fuss dies down. I do not care what kind of cereal William ate this morning, I do not care who's making Kate's dress. I do not care to download all the recipes for the canapes we can expect to see served at the reception. I do not care what happened at the bachelor party or the bachelorette party, and I do not care that William wil not be wearing a ring. Who cares? Do we really think he's going to cruise bars trying to pass himself off as a single bloke? It's just silly.
In England, the people are informed daily of all these trivial details, but here in the States we get involved by our illustrious leader in yet another war and have to hear about it on the news after the fact.
I just don't get it.
Monday, March 14, 2011
Today, we're talking about nagging. Do I need to repeat that?
Nagging. What a word. I can't think of one single instance in which it might be used in a good way. "So nice nagging with you today, Molly, or "let's get together for lunch and nag one another soon!" Just doesn't sound right. No, nagging is a term reserved typically for frustrated husbands as they refer to their wives' repetitive remarks on the same topic.
As one of those wives, I would like to try to re-train your thinking process with respect to nagging and other associated behaviors. I'm going to use a hypothetical example here, lest someone think I'm nagging for real.
When a wife asks her husband to do something, or when she reminds him to do something, the first time around she's not nagging. She's simply asking or reminding cordially."Honey, will you please hang that picture over the sofa? I can't hold it and hammer at the same time." Now, when said husband does not do what his wife requested/asked, the wife feels compelled to request/ask again.
This second request could come an hour later, a week later or a month or so later. Depends on how badly she wants the picture hung."Honey, will you please hang that picture over the sofa for me?" The husband may grunt, may look straight at her and nod in the affirmative, or he may ignore her altogether. Depends on how long they've been married.
The third request comes after the husband has agreed the first two times but has yet to actually take any action. The wife's tone may sound more abrupt, and she may or may not drop the "please." Depends on how long they've been married and how patient she is.
The fourth time...well you get the picture. Now at this point, the husband may very well blow a gasket and say something sensible like, "You know, I'd be happy to do things for you if you'd just stop nagging!" And thus is propagated the legend of the nagging wife.
The way I see it, if the husband would either a) do what his wife asked when she asked it the first time, or b) tell her to forget it, not happening, no way, ever, the first time she asked, fair enough. At that point, there is no longer a need to repeat the request. At that point, said wife can move ahead, either lining up someone else to help her or returning the picture because she can't hang it by herself.
In short, it's not nagging when we keep asking the same thing BECAUSE IT NEVER GETS DONE. Now guys, I'll give you this - if your wife asks something of you that you do for her, and she for some reason runs around the house like a wind-up doll gone crazy continually asking for the same thing to be done over and over, by all means - CALL IT NAGGING. Otherwise, call it what it is. Your wife is asking for something that you simply dont feel like giving her, so you ignore her until she thinks she's the one going crazy.
There. Think about that the next time you accuse your wife of nagging.
*Disclaimer - no, this post is not about my personal life. Not today, anyway.
As one of those wives, I would like to try to re-train your thinking process with respect to nagging and other associated behaviors. I'm going to use a hypothetical example here, lest someone think I'm nagging for real.
When a wife asks her husband to do something, or when she reminds him to do something, the first time around she's not nagging. She's simply asking or reminding cordially."Honey, will you please hang that picture over the sofa? I can't hold it and hammer at the same time." Now, when said husband does not do what his wife requested/asked, the wife feels compelled to request/ask again.
This second request could come an hour later, a week later or a month or so later. Depends on how badly she wants the picture hung."Honey, will you please hang that picture over the sofa for me?" The husband may grunt, may look straight at her and nod in the affirmative, or he may ignore her altogether. Depends on how long they've been married.
The third request comes after the husband has agreed the first two times but has yet to actually take any action. The wife's tone may sound more abrupt, and she may or may not drop the "please." Depends on how long they've been married and how patient she is.
The fourth time...well you get the picture. Now at this point, the husband may very well blow a gasket and say something sensible like, "You know, I'd be happy to do things for you if you'd just stop nagging!" And thus is propagated the legend of the nagging wife.
The way I see it, if the husband would either a) do what his wife asked when she asked it the first time, or b) tell her to forget it, not happening, no way, ever, the first time she asked, fair enough. At that point, there is no longer a need to repeat the request. At that point, said wife can move ahead, either lining up someone else to help her or returning the picture because she can't hang it by herself.
In short, it's not nagging when we keep asking the same thing BECAUSE IT NEVER GETS DONE. Now guys, I'll give you this - if your wife asks something of you that you do for her, and she for some reason runs around the house like a wind-up doll gone crazy continually asking for the same thing to be done over and over, by all means - CALL IT NAGGING. Otherwise, call it what it is. Your wife is asking for something that you simply dont feel like giving her, so you ignore her until she thinks she's the one going crazy.
There. Think about that the next time you accuse your wife of nagging.
*Disclaimer - no, this post is not about my personal life. Not today, anyway.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
I should have been a marriage counselor.
I am not. I am a wife, a mom, daughter, a sister, a friend and a writer. However, all those jobs qualify me to be a pretty effective marriage counselor. At the ripe old age of 50 - I can say that now without choking on it - I have come to understand a lot of what matters and what doesn't. In my opinion, that's 95% of what it takes to be a good counselor, which is another term for "mediator."
Ten years ago, I would not have been able to say that I would make a good counselor. I would have been terrible at it. I was too impatient, too intolerant of ideas that weren't mine, and too quick to assume that the man must be wrong because a) he failed to listen or b) he failed to listen the other 100 times his wife had to say the same thing.
My husband and I see a counselor, and we have for about a year and a half. Don't raise your eyebrows and assume anything. We don't just love each other; we adore each other. But even the best marriages, the most devoted couples, hit a speed bump every now and then. You have to learn how to navigate the speed bumps, or pretty soon you lose a hubcap, bust a tire, or just run the whole car off into a ditch.
I love our counselor. He, too, has lived long enough to know that you have to focus on the good things, the strengths, or you run the risk of getting distracted by the smallest, most insignificant things. He listens to us ramble, nit pick and whine, and all the while he maintains a calm demeanor, a look on his face that says, "as soon as they shut up, I'm going to remind them of all the good things, all the thousands of blessings they enjoy, all the hard work they've put in over the years to get where they are now." And he does, and then we're fine, ready to go, recharged for a while.
Come to think of it, being a marriage counselor is a lot like being a kindergarten teacher. There's a lot of time spent just keeping everyone on task, on the right track, in their own space and not infringing on the other's rights.
Ten years ago, I would not have been able to say that I would make a good counselor. I would have been terrible at it. I was too impatient, too intolerant of ideas that weren't mine, and too quick to assume that the man must be wrong because a) he failed to listen or b) he failed to listen the other 100 times his wife had to say the same thing.
My husband and I see a counselor, and we have for about a year and a half. Don't raise your eyebrows and assume anything. We don't just love each other; we adore each other. But even the best marriages, the most devoted couples, hit a speed bump every now and then. You have to learn how to navigate the speed bumps, or pretty soon you lose a hubcap, bust a tire, or just run the whole car off into a ditch.
I love our counselor. He, too, has lived long enough to know that you have to focus on the good things, the strengths, or you run the risk of getting distracted by the smallest, most insignificant things. He listens to us ramble, nit pick and whine, and all the while he maintains a calm demeanor, a look on his face that says, "as soon as they shut up, I'm going to remind them of all the good things, all the thousands of blessings they enjoy, all the hard work they've put in over the years to get where they are now." And he does, and then we're fine, ready to go, recharged for a while.
Come to think of it, being a marriage counselor is a lot like being a kindergarten teacher. There's a lot of time spent just keeping everyone on task, on the right track, in their own space and not infringing on the other's rights.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
People say the darndest things
I met my husband for lunch today. Whenever we get a chance to sneak away for an hour or so these days, we do. We've just gotten too busy. We met at one of our favorite haunts for a light lunch and to catch up on the day.
Our waitress today was one of our favorites. She's funny, a little quirky and just a tad, um, white trashy. She's nice, and she's a good sport, and she knows us and takes good care of us, but still - there's that WT factor. You never know when it's going to rear its head and show itself. It did today.
We hadn't seen her for a while before today. We knew she had been talking about a trip out west to get married, so we asked her whether that's where she'd been. Well, yes and no, she answered.
She and her future hubby were supposed to marry sometime around Christmas. They didn't, however, because she learned at about the same time that she is pregnant. "Oh," I exclaimed. "How lovely! Are you excited?" She shook her head that no, in fact, she is not excited. She is quite bummed about the whole notion. So I launched into my speech about how children are a blessing, how they are gifts, how they change your life for the better. You know, the speech.
"Oh yeah, I know," she replied. "It's just that we were planning to go to Vegas and get married, then take a trip. Now we can't."
"Oh sure you can!" we said to her in unison. You look great, you're not too far along to travel safely, do it! Go!"
"No. We're not going, because I can't drink. It ain't no fun if you can't drink," she lamented. "I'll have to wait until I'm at least 6 months along to do that."
Gulp.
Somtimes it ain't all genetic, folks.
Our waitress today was one of our favorites. She's funny, a little quirky and just a tad, um, white trashy. She's nice, and she's a good sport, and she knows us and takes good care of us, but still - there's that WT factor. You never know when it's going to rear its head and show itself. It did today.
We hadn't seen her for a while before today. We knew she had been talking about a trip out west to get married, so we asked her whether that's where she'd been. Well, yes and no, she answered.
She and her future hubby were supposed to marry sometime around Christmas. They didn't, however, because she learned at about the same time that she is pregnant. "Oh," I exclaimed. "How lovely! Are you excited?" She shook her head that no, in fact, she is not excited. She is quite bummed about the whole notion. So I launched into my speech about how children are a blessing, how they are gifts, how they change your life for the better. You know, the speech.
"Oh yeah, I know," she replied. "It's just that we were planning to go to Vegas and get married, then take a trip. Now we can't."
"Oh sure you can!" we said to her in unison. You look great, you're not too far along to travel safely, do it! Go!"
"No. We're not going, because I can't drink. It ain't no fun if you can't drink," she lamented. "I'll have to wait until I'm at least 6 months along to do that."
Gulp.
Somtimes it ain't all genetic, folks.
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