Missing My T

Every day there are a thousand little things I take for granted:

You take out the trash.
You change the cat litter.
You feed the cats.
You do the dishes.
You vacuum. When you can pry it away from Hollis.

You do laundry, and not just your own.

You feed the boys dinner.
You give the boys their bath.

You mow the lawn.
You clean the pool.
You make sure my car is inspected and oil changed.
You fix my flat tires.

You rescue me when I run out of gas. (She sheepishly says.)

You kiss me goodbye every morning and goodnight every evening before we fall asleep.

You call me every morning to hear about the boys' morning and daycare drop.
You call me every afternoon when you pick them up to tell me about the day.
If I call you at the last minute and ask you to pick up or drop off the boys, you always do it if you can, no questions asked.

You call me during the day just to say,"hi," or, "I love you."
When you ask about my day you actually listen to my answer. Unless I start babbling on about contract provisions and then I totally understand why you tune out. I'd tune me out too.

You are my calm in the storm.

You give our boys confidence and security.
You teach them to run, and leap, and hop.
You hold them when they trip, stumble or fall.

You flip Holden upside down.
You play Ring Around the Rosie.
You build sand forts and lego castles.

You help Hollis scare away the thunder.

You help me scare away the thunder.

You don't see the extra pounds I've gained since we started our family.
But you always notice when I lose weight.

You know what I'm thinking without even having to ask.
You love that I'm sarcastic and snarky and you tell me so all the time.

You think I'm funny.

You love what I write.
You love that I write.

You get me. You really, really get me.

We miss you.
I miss you.
We'll see you soon, Daddy.

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Please go over and check out Julie's Hump Day Hmmm topic for this week. It promises to be a good one. Hopefully Julie will forgive me for posting this instead. It just had to come out.

Leaving On a Jet Plane...

No wait, that's not right. We're leaving tonight in a car, driving 3 hours to DC in rush hour traffic (better make that 4 hours), staying overnight, flying to Omaha, and then driving 6 hours to the in-laws. So I guess I'm leaving on a car, a jet plane, and a rented SUV. It's just that it's hard to sing that line.

I know, I know. Try to contain your disappointment, but Lawyer Mama will be absent for more than a week. If I survive the almost 26 hours of combined travel (half of it on Friday the 13th) and then the withdrawal from Internet access, I will be back in 10 days.

I can, however, offer you something even better than a consolation prize. I have guest bloggers scheduled for you! You'll have to check back to see who and what and to party in my absence. I just ask that you pick up all your empty beer cans from the lawn and remove the drunk people from the bathrooms before I get home. Oh, and try not to let the cats outside.

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Before I leave, I do want to thank The Queen of the Mayhem, not only for letting me trash her castle in her absence, but also for the Rockin' Blogger award she bestowed upon me. You're the best, Queenie!

I have to pass it on to some other Rockin' Bloggers that I know, so here it goes:

CPA Mom - She keeps her main blog private. Damn. it. But you can check out her reviews here and catch her at The Soccer Mom Vote. You'll have to trust me when I tell you she is one rockin' chick. I know she's been tagged with this before, but she deserves two. One for each blog.

Julie at The Ravin' Picture Maven - Julie keeps me thinking and on my toes with her wonderful thinky posts and her Hump Day Hmm's. If you haven't participated in one of her roundtables, you should. It's a great way to exercise your brain. I think Julie's gotten this one before too, but she also deserves two. One for each hand. Why not?

DD at TKO - This lady keeps taking hits and coming back for more. He blog touches on infertility quite a bit and that's a personal subject for me, but her observations on life, love, and the pursuit of baby are amazing. I don't know how she does it, but she makes me laugh through tears on a regular basis. I don't know if she's been named a Rockin' Blogger before but she deserves two anyway. She's just that fabulous.

I also have to say that there isn't a blog in my blog roll that doesn't deserve this. And many more blogs that I've been too lazy to add to my blog roll, but that I read all the time. You're all fabulous but, once again, I'm too damn lazy to put any more links in this post.

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Don't forget to go check out Julie's Hump Day Hmm's for the week. They're all up now at her place.

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I leave you with this:

We had a loud storm last night. In fact, it was a dark and stormy night. (I've always wanted to legitimately use that line!) We were having a hard time putting the boys to bed, with crashes of thunder that rattled the house. I heard Hollis tell T, "Daddy, the thunder scared me."

T, carrying him to the window, "Well, you go right ahead and scare thunder back. Tell it who's boss."

Hollis crawled up on the window ledge, scrinched up his face, curled his hands like claws, and growled, "ROOOOOOWWWWWWRRRRRRRR!!!" through the window.

"Thunder scared now, Daddy."

Hollis went right to sleep.

You see why I love my men so?



Try not to have too much fun without me.

Love Of My Life

Today is my twelfth wedding anniversary.

When I met T, he was 23. I was 21. It was January 1, 1994, and a college friend had invited me over for her Orange Bowl viewing party. I had nearly met T easily a dozen times before that day. I nearly met him when I was involved in a serious relationship (as serious as all the drama of twenty can be). Again I nearly met T when that serious relationship was ending, of course, in a hail storm of acrimony and hate.

For more than a year T shadowed my footsteps, or I his, and we never realized it. But "exactly at the time when it was quite natural that it should be so, and not a week earlier," we met.*

At the football party, Nebraska was playing Florida State, and while I'm definitely no Seminoles fan, at the time I would have rooted for pretty much any team over the Huskers. So I cheered for FSU in a subdued manner to avoid lynching by the crowd. Florida State won the game and as the evening progressed, that cute guy who kept staring at my chest got drunker and drunker. I somehow ended up taking care of him when we all made the inevitable late night run for pancakes. T made several drunken passes at me.

Somehow I avoided smacking him.

Three days later he finally got over his post-drunken remorse and screwed up the courage to ask our mutual friend for my number. When T called, we talked for three hours.

And when we had our first date, we sat in the car and talked all night long. (Well, in all honestly, we didn't just talk, but T will kill me if I go into details.)

That was it. I knew he was The One.

But I had no idea if T knew that I was His One. And when he finally got around to admitting it a few months later, we both knew that we would marry.

We were incredibly lucky. T was 25 and I was 22 when we wed. We were babies. Who meets their soul mate at 22? How do you recognize a kindred soul when you don't even really know your own soul yet?

I can't answer that question. I can't explain it. If I think about it, our relationship defies logic.

Logic is the lodestone of my life. But logic can't explain why T loves me. It can't tell me why T believes that I'm beautiful and, more importantly, that I'm funny and smart and a good mother. (Boy do I have him snowed!) But I do find it illogical that T loves me. Sarcastic, overly analytical, neurotic, pessimistic me.

You see, T is the best man I know. I chide him for his political beliefs, but I know that T would save the world if he could. In fact he does try to do so in ways I can't talk about here because T is so private. He carries too much responsibility on his shoulders, my Atlas, but I cannot imagine a better man to raise our two boys. He's a far better person than I am. Even more so, because he doesn't realize that he is indeed the better person.

The thing is, I don't believe in fate. I think that life is what you make of it. Off of the top of my head I would probably tell you that I don't believe there is only one person out there for each of us.

But if I really stop to think about it, on this day, our anniversary, maybe it was fate. Maybe I was destined to be here with T and our two boys today. Living our simple, happy lives.

Oh, how I love my T.


But I still hate the Huskers.


* Jane Austen, Mansfield Park

Happy Birthday!

Tomorrow is T's 37th birthday.

My mother-in-law has kept a journal for most of her life, so I know a bit about T as a baby. It was hot the Summer he was born and there was no air conditioning at the house on his family's farm in Southwest Nebraska. There was sand in the well water MIL used to wash T's diapers and it gave him a horrible diaper rash. So T was a cranky baby for a few months. One entry from MIL's journal reads "T was nasty today." For some reason that makes me laugh and I remind him of it when he's grumpy.

MIL and FIL have also told me that T was quite an, um, energetic child. An endearing trait that he has passed to our sons. When he was a tween, he and his younger brother decided to bring the calf they were raising for 4-H into the house. Through the living room. He still doesn't remember why, but they thought it was a really good idea at the time.

T and his brother, K, liked to play Superman in the tree in the front yard. They had the brilliant idea to put blankets on as capes and jump out of the tree, whereupon they would of course soar into the air. T didn't want to try it first. Neither did K. So T pushed K out of the tree. Apparently K still has the scar from the nasty tree gouging he received. The boys thought they'd get in trouble, so they never told their parents.

And then there was the time T backed over his brother in the truck. And the time he almost shot him. And... I could go on and on.

When T was 17, he joined the Navy and went off to boot camp. He spent some time in Florida, Chicago, and two years in Scotland. Then he came home and finished college, with degrees in history and political science, in three years. When I met him he was in graduate school working on his Masters in International Relations. Now T is a computer geek, and it suits him, but he loves to talk and argue politics.

T loves to eat pickled pigs feet (ewwww), olives, and steak. He loves Spring above all other seasons. He can't pick out a matching outfit to save his life.

T loves to take the boys for rides on his lawn mower. He wants to teach them to ride horses and how to milk a cow. He's teaching them to say "yes, sir" and "no, ma'am" and to be good men.

T loves to give hugs at least 50 times a day. He always ends his calls to his parents with "I love you." He's not afraid to tell me what he feels.

T cried after Hollis was born because he was so overwhelmed with love. He loves to watch the boys sleeping. He would do anything for me or the boys. Anything.

We are so lucky.

I am so lucky.

Happy Birthday, T.

I love you.

How Many Computer Geeks Does it Take to Diaper a Baby?

I found this video of T attempting to diaper Hollis at 9 months and I had to share. It always makes me smile. Plus, there's nothing better than making your husband look like an incompetent parent on the internet!

Those Three Little Words Are Hard to Say

My wedding was wonderful. All of my best friends and lots of family gathered for what I have to admit was a hell of a party. Surprisingly, the open bar did not end badly and everyone was generally well behaved. T and I had been expecting the worst, and we were pleasantly surprised. It turned out to be a magical day.

And then the next day I started a fight with T and really upset him. I mean really upset him.

What a way to start off the marriage, huh? Way to end the magic, LM.

In my defense, it wasn't a major fight. It was just a little bickering. Neither of us can even remember what the fight was about. I guess what made it so memorable was T's response. I don't think I'd ever seen T react quite so emotionally before. In response to my puzzled inquiry T explained that it was the first day of our life as a married couple and we were already fighting.

That one really hit me in the gut.

Prior to marriage I had always half jokingly complained about T's decidedly unromantic nature. I'd seen T as a sweet, dear man, but not terribly romantic unless I planted the seeds of ideas for him. I didn't have a problem with this. I'm not a terribly romantic person myself. Sure, I like flowers or surprise romantic dinners as much as the next girl, but last minute trips to Jamaica or Paris have never been my bag. I like to be prepared and I like to be packed at least 2 days in advance. If I wanted something to happen, I dropped hints and T would comply. So T and I worked well together if a bit predictably.

Imagine my surprise at M-day + 1 when I discovered that T did have a hidden streak of romanticism, or at least idealism, about marriage. And I know all of you are thinking, "Well, I hope you apologized to the man!" But here's the thing - I didn't apologize. In fact, I remember saying something like "We fight all the time. Nothing has changed. It's just a piece of paper. What's the big deal?"

Ouch.

Just remembering that day I cringe a bit inside.

Throughout the years I've taken T for granted. And sometimes he takes me for granted. Mostly it's the other way around, but I realize my failings now in a way I certainly did not at 22.

I'm the high maintenance half of this relationship. Thoughtless words or deeds on my part are common. Thoughtful words and deeds from T, just as common.

I take T and his love, affection, and seemingly endless patience for granted.

And then T and I will have a fight. A really nasty one, where doors are slammed and love is questioned. And T always apologizes the moment he calms down. The. moment. he calms down. As if he can't stand for me to be angry with him for one second longer than necessary. It's obvious to me that the moment T clears his head from the fog of war, he forgives me.

And in some twisted way, T's forgiveness of me and my transgressions reminds me that I take him for granted. He humbles me and I, the slower to calm, forgive him as well.

Julie's Hump Day Hmmm for the week was "What has the experience of being forgiven been like for you?" I've taken this question a bit astray from perhaps its intended path. I haven't done many things in my life that are unforgivable, or even many that require much forgiveness. (Didn't you know that I'm never wrong?!) I've cut very few people from my life over the years and, as far as I know, been similarly cut by few people as well. Hence, my experience with major forgiveness is fairly limited.

I do not easily forgive others, even for minor insults. Nor is it easy for me to apologize. The act of apologizing is an admission of wrongdoing. It's uncomfortable. I think perhaps apologies are so uncomfortable for me because I hold myself to a high standard. And if I hurt someone else, they may forgive me long before I forgive myself. And then at other times, where the lines of fault are blurred, it's easier for me to remain righteously angry than to step up and repair a relationship. Particularly in a relationship where I find myself in the role of perpetual apologizer, the one always perceived to be at fault.

Although the role is not a comfortable one for me, I've been The Apologizer before. Usually with a friend or relative I could sense simply was not capable of clearly seeing their own faults. A particular friend I have in mind, seemed to think nothing of blowing up inappropriately at me on more than one occasion, hurtling personal insults along the way. When someone is always quick to find fault with me, but never to turn the spotlight back upon herself, is that friendship even worth salvaging? At a certain point, and I guess it's different for every relationship, I cut all ties. Sometimes forgiveness, when it isn't really needed or wanted, isn't necessary anymore.

But when I do find myself at fault, T is my inspiration. I try to remember that in apologizing and admitting an error or a grievance, I also forgive myself. And self-forgiveness can be much harder to receive than forgiveness from someone else.

You can check out the rest of the roundtable participants every Wednesday at The Ravin' Picture Maven.

Toddler Nirvana

For a toddler, what could be better than having lots of mulch to play with...



Sticks to eat...



a Bobcat in the front yard....



and a giant pile of dirt?



Life is good!





(My apologies, T, for posting your pic without asking first. You just looked so damn cute, I couldn't resist.)