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Browsing Tag: marriage

No Matter What

All of our biggest conversations happen in the car. We were on our way to gymnastics, deep into a Depeche Mode song, when Quinlan asked me to revisit a story I’d once mentioned about a boyfriend I’d had when I was younger. “Mom? Did he throw you into the lake?” It took me a moment before I realized what she was talking about, then immediately swore to always downplay any single story I told her again from there on out. “No, no, honey. That boy never THREW me into a lake. We were in a canoe on a lake, and he was teasing me by rocking the boat over the deep water.” “And that’s why he didn’t become your boyfriend anymore?” “Well, not because of just that. But I was upset because he knew I was scared. But there were more moments after that when…” I couldn’t think of a way to explain it. “He wasn’t mean. I just started to feel bad about myself when I was around him. Like, sad.” She seemed to understand what I was saying. “So I knew it was time for him to not be my boyfriend…

Perspective

Glass half empty: Woke up late. Spent way too much time on the ol’ phone before I even got out of bed (I know. Step Two. I know.). Threw a bagel at the kids for breakfast, left all dishes behind on table/countertops. Kids had a two-hour delay today after two days off school for snow, AND YET they were doing their homework and going through backpacks a half hour before we had to leave. I know. Got showered, dressed, ready. Mascara and lipstick applied. Then got to the school with David for a meeting…only to find out from the other parents that the meeting had been postponed. Did either of us see said email or text alerting us to this? No. Nope, no. I have no idea if we put the dog in her crate or not before we left. The fate of our furniture and the kids’ toys lies in the difference. Glass half full: Both David and I had our laptops with us when we left the house this morning. At his suggestion, we are now tucked into a two-top at a little indie coffeeshop one town over. He is working…

And He Says I’m Not Romantic

Some days, some moments, you focus on what’s wrong: all that is wrong, all that is heavy, all that is weighing on you like the proverbial albatross on your neck. You feel slow and sad and overwhelmed and just a little bit more than a little lost. You’ve been under the weather for a while now–a year and a half of cruddy health catching up with you–and you’re tired. You’re tired of being tired. You’re tired of the shadows blurring your vision. You already have really bad eyesight, you know. You wish the shadows, these dark spots, would just move out of the way. As if it were that easy, of course. You walk outside to water the plants–mums you just got for the front porch, because September is Mum Time, whether the thermometer reads 92 degrees or not–and you see your children. They’re laughing. Riding their toys while holding hands. Your son, so excited to own a BB-8 bike helmet, wears it with the packaging still on (you’re really bad about remembering to take the tags…