Friday: Thursday night dinner & Friday 'get away' outing
Saturday: Do you see that?! That's right, baby. Heater...OFF. (for now)
Sunday: A new clock. That projects big numbers on the ceiling. Which means, for the first time since about 1982, I can see the clock in the middle of the night. Yee Haw.
Monday: Valentine's dinner - lamb gyros and heart sugar cookies
My parents 50th anniversary is today. My in-laws 40th anniversary is two days after. I'm standing in the middle of 90 years of marriage. That seems...significant, right?
Love and marriage has always been a funny thing for me to look at. I'm not terribly romantic in the traditional 'princess-y' sort of way, but I think I'm vintage romantic at heart. I really love the thought of having one love to last all time. I really love the notion of inside jokes and a shared history that comes with years and years of a good marriage. I believe in working at keeping a marriage fun and happy and being there truly for better or worse. I believe in being partners, but not in a prince to sweep me off my feet kind of way. I like my feet on the ground looking toward shared goals. Maybe call it...practical romance. But you throw a divorce in there and, for a while, even my practicality was thrown off kilter and I had a difficult time regaining my footing.
My parents haven't always had the greatest of times. I remember the fighting growing up, the stress of not enough money and a big family, but I think I understand some of it better, now. It's funny to view things first hand as a child, seeing the times that I'm sure my parents would like to forget and then, again, as a married adult, through Sammy's eyes. Marriage is difficult. It's work. Ultimately, it's rewarding, but it's really work. And as a child, you don't see that. All you see are the fights and the decisions being made that you don't understand. You don't see the couple, you only see the parents. And I think we'd all agree that there is a big, HUGE difference between the two.
And then, suddenly, you are 37 and you are waking up on the day of your parents 50th wedding anniversary. It seems significant in ways I can't describe. I see those tough times in a slightly different light, now. I see my parents, while not always making the best decisions, sticking together and becoming closer as the years go on. And while I never saw the "momentous" of 50 years together, I'm beginning to. And I'm hoping I see my own someday. To look back at the fights and the stress and the not so great decisions Isaac and I are making combining with the good times and the growing closer. Each individual year weaving and making up the whole of the 50. It's seeming more clear, seeing my parents hit this number. It IS important.
So to both Moms and Dads - happy anniversary. 90 years! May Isaac and I follow in your footsteps. And may Sammy someday be able to not only see us, the parents, but also us, the couple.
The doctor told me the discomfort from the injection would only last a minute. Barely a blip, but the effects would be worth it: to my scar and to the cluster that preceded the scar. I said, no. No, thank you; right away, almost before he finished his explanation. I looked over at Isaac and asked his opinion. He said I should get the shot. I told him he sucked. I didn't want it and wanted someone to say, 'it's ok...you don't have to get it!'. But no one did. I had the fear of pain on one side and everyone's opinion on the other. I chose the easy way out. I said, no. Thank you. Again. We'll wait and watch and come back to it later.
I always take the easy way. Always. Nearly without fail. It's been this way since I can remember and I'm starting to worry about what it says about me. My mother says that I would often put things away NEAR or NEXT to the correct spot and not really in the correct spot. I found it easier. She found it annoying. I have this need for the easy. I think I'm weaker than I am. I think I'm more fragile than I am and I act accordingly. My life says otherwise. It points out my strength and my determination. It points out my pride and my stubborn streak. My need for perfection. But in my mind, I'm always searching for that easy path. It may look brilliant, but it was most likely very easy.
I've been invited to a local writing group through a pretty funny contact (which should teach me that you count discount things!) and I know I'll go. Starting is never the problem. It's the tough stuff that comes later; the follow through that gets me. I want that to change. I want to embrace the discomfort a writing group will provide. It's been EASY, up to now, to give excuses to my lack of career. Excuses are easy, doing is difficult. I want to eschew my nature and battle through. I want this group to work. To challenge. To show the fallacy in what I believe are my truths. I want to want it so much I can do nothing but work; to become more than 'the brilliant idea' girl.
In the end, I got the injection. It wasn't as bad as I had built it up to be, though I wouldn't want to do it every day. Maybe my 'take the easy road' is tempered with the 'I don't want to look like a wuss drive'. I find, a lot of the time, it is this way. When I DO take the more difficult way, it's not as bad as I imagined. I just have to battle my own mind to get there. Which is, well, difficult sometimes...
1. I See Red - Split Enz: The only Finn song I love the cover more than the original. And the fact that Sammy started singing this by age 2 does my heart good.
2. Blue Monday - New Order: a total teenage song...awwwww.
3. Electric Blue - Icehouse: Man. I love this song.
4. Blue Orchid - The White Stripes: This reminds me of being pregnant. Which may be such a crazy association...
5. Pretty Fly (for a White Guy) - Offspring: This just reminds me of Isaac. We have a marriage based on the Offspring...ok. Maybe not.
Bonus: Love is a Wonderful Colour - The Icicle Works: I STILL love this song.
We had a terrible week last week. Sammy was sick, I wasn't feeling great and we were COOPED up. Cabin fever was raging in the household and was not leaving survivors.
So Friday, we had a list of things to do, but Isaac told me that we were getting out of the valley. It was needed. So, faster than you could say "See ya", I called and rescheduled, gave my regrets to my niece and blew off the rest. He really didn't have to convinced me (I *may* have been begging...); and I knew without a day away, Sammy and I's relationship would definitely be a little worse for the wear.
Thursday night was ROUGH. Sammy up a lot and would NOT go back to bed. He was bugging us about everything: I want to play, I want to watch TV, is it morning yet. Isaac dealt with the brunt of it, but by about 4 am, I could NOT take it any more. He wanted to snuggle with me and I lost it. I told him to go back to bed and when, not 10 minutes later he was back, whining for snuggle time, we sent him to time out to the chorus of his tears. He sat on the stairs in the dark, crying, and when he finally calmed down, he still came back asking to snuggle. This is where my less than stellar parenting came in and I told him "tough" to snuggling, sent him to bed crying and immediately hating myself for it. Just a couple of minutes later, the guilt caught up and I went in to give him a hug. I sat with him on his bed and rocked him a little (which is getting harder and harder to do!) and had him calm down. He was finally ready to go back to sleep and I left with him feeling better and me feeling worse. I crawled into bed in tears, partly from guilt and partly from exhaustion. Isaac was quick to tell me what a good mom I was; stuffing my frustration down and comforting Sammy, snuggling him back to sleep and I was quick to point out that I wasn't feeling like a good mom because I HATED that he was being so difficult this week and he was NOT my favorite and I really needed to get away from him before the yelling that had crept into our lives stayed any longer.
So Friday morning I was not in a great mood. I was having a tough time interacting with Sammy because I JUST wanted him away from me. I was doubting the fun family outing was going to happen smoothly, but the slow start (and ruined eggs) wore me down enough to at least breathe and find a little hope for the day. By the time we left, I could already feel the weight of the week leave. I was sorry about all the things we were missing and had to reschedule, but I was SO very grateful to see our town behind us. By the time we got to Salt Lake, we were all starving and feeling pretty zen. We had no schedule and ate leisurely and then walked around, shopping a little. A Target stop and more food and we were heading home: fat and much happier than just a few hours before. It was a magical, sunny day and as we got home Friday night, it was confirmed. It was EXACTLY what the doctor ordered, eating our way through the city. A change of scenery and an extra parent between Sammy and I. I felt more relaxed and not so much like Sammy's very voice was going to make my head explode. Which, clearly, is optimal in this parenting gig.
(you do something to me - paul weller: My love for this song knows no bounds.)
