A Monkey, a Deadline and a Soap Box

Today is the last day of September -- of course I have to post something to just get it in on that last day. Maybe it is a sickly fond memory of deadlines and the need to feel that even as a housewife I have accomplished something, but there it is, this impetus to post on the last day of September.

I have been monkeying around with the template of my blog. (I'm a talented mouse as I do know how to monkey!) I am not really satisfied with any of the offerings but, despite having taken an HTML class, I have no idea how to create my own. (Given that said course was taken longer than five minutes ago though I really can't recall much.) I have tried different formats, tried to add pictures and backgrounds here and there, messed with fonts and, clearly, font colors, but all to just have a growing sense of frustration at the overall look. I think I am so keen on developing a good look so as to distract viewers from the actual content. I also think that I have spent more time developing the look then actually working on any real content!

I find it ironic, and completely in keeping with mortal justice, that the weekend directly following my posting on my struggles to understand and to make my marriage work, that we have one of our best weekends ever. I suppose this is in keeping with God's law to never give us more than we can handle. Incidentally, this is also why my children, at varying times, have been given extra doses of cuteness; God wants to ensure that they make it to their 18th birthday!

Church was good today; it is one of my favorite parts of Sunday. I wonder at people who don't have a church family to call their own. How do they survive, particularly when they move someplace new, without those roots and friendships? I love the time I am given to worship and fellowship with like minded believers. What a gift! I miss teaching my class though, in some respects anyway. I don't really miss all the 747s practicing take off and descent in my stomach before every class. As a control freak what I really miss is being able to control the content of the class. Today we were discussing Romans and the basic tenets of the gospel of Christ -- our being sinners and our need for a Redeemer. There are some though who interpret the scriptures to mean that we are saved AFTER we do so many works or such. I don't know if this is what they really believe or merely what I am interpreting and inferring, but it irks me nonetheless, because I want everyone to feel the joy of the gospel and not feel beleaguered or heavy laden. It has taken me much study and prayer, but I firmly believe that we are saved by grace and faith NOW not at some later date, and that works are a by product of said faith and are accomplished only with my hand firmly in His. I believe that we are saved "after all we can do," but I believe all we can do is repent and choose Jesus, "for my yoke is easy and my burden light." Ah, I finally found one of my soap boxes; I knew I would if I typed long enough.

The kids did quite well during quiet time this afternoon and Robert was able to nap (yea, all hail a happy daddy!). Quinn has been pestering me to work with him on knitting again. We tried yesterday -- he has been most intrigued as he watches me knit my scarf -- but his coordination is that of a 6 year old and it became an exercise in frustration for both him and me. He wanted to try again but I just didn't have the heart for it on a Sunday.

Dinner is roasting, kids are watching "Ant Bully," rain is falling, there's a fire in the wood stove (our first of the year), and I managed to squeeze in one last post before the end of the month. All is right with the world.

What is marriage?

I have been thinking about this quite a bit lately. I'm beginning to wonder if there is a ten-year itch or curse or something. I have one friend who is in the middle of separation/divorce/reconciliation, another friend who divorced her husband at ten years and Robert and I have been sticky of late. A few weeks ago, right before our anniversary, we had a few days when he was utterly polite and completely remote. In all our marriage, through rough and loud fights and someone leaving for space, I have never been so scared that he would call it quits.

Last night and today it is I who am being utterly polite and remote. I just don't know what to do or what is my place. While what we have has worked fairly well over the last ten years, I am feeling a shift in needs and wants and desires; I am feeling a complete shift in the workings in our marriage and I'm not sure how to be in this new place. I know that losing my mom and my subsequent grief has been a big strain. Robert has been supportive and so, so, so patient but it has tried his very limits. Additionally, Robert's church calling as scoutmaster and work and mechanic classes and other activities have added up to me spending a lot of time as a single parent, which has been a big strain on me. I have struggled to be patient and my limits too have been tried.

So where are we and what does it mean to be married, to be together for life and eternity? How do we partner to compliment each other, to support each other? How does he lead as the head of our family and marriage and how do I follow? I have been feeling of late that my role needs to be more submissive that I have been. In the past I have fought for every little thing and had a great, overwhelming need to be right to the point of disregarding his input at times. I'm afraid to give in or compromise in some areas as I feel that once I do, he will rush over me and I will lose that which is important to me; that I will lose myself.

So my feelings are mixed. I want my marriage to be better and I feel this transition can go either way, but I am scared to death at the thought of submission. I fear so much that I will lose this person I am of whom I have such a fragile understanding. I fear I will become a Stepford wife or some other automaton or image of what Robert may think he wants but in reality, not something that is viable for myself or for our marriage.

Then too, I worry that my fears are overrated as I have many of the same struggles in my relationship with God. I want so much the grace He provides. I want so much to be a better servant and disciple. I want so much to be delivered from my sins and inadequacies but I hesitate at real submission. Whosoever shall lose his life for my sake, the same shall save it. Do I trust that? Do I trust God? Do I trust the man I know my husband to be and that he will not abuse his leadership position?

I don't know.


I have found that in marriage, like anything else, the more I learn, the less I know.

I enjoy being a girl

There's a song running through my head: "I enjoy being a girl." There are times when that sentiment has been so accurate in my life. I loved being excused from roof snow shoveling duty to enjoy hot chocolate earlier than my brothers. I liked having girlie sleep overs where everyone got a make over and we'd discuss things that boys knew absolutely nothing about. There are times when it is luscious to be a woman. Then there is today.

I know, I know, it's terribly cliche to say that a certain time of the month rolls around and I'm in agony but there it is. I have a little boy that I watch every day. He is here today. Lulu is once again refusing to clean her room. I have to go to a playgroup thing this morning which, when I accepted the invitation, I was excited about but now it has grown to so many moms and children that I am afraid to go and would much rather spend time in my closet (which is only about 2'x4') with the door shut. Following that, I have a parent club meeting at my boys' elementary school where I have been appointed (not voted, elected or wanting to be but appointed) Secretary. So now I have to care enough and pay enough attention to keep decipherable minutes. When that's over, the boys will be out of school and it will be time for chores, homework, etc. Then it's off to Cub Scouts where I get to spend time with 8 energetic (read: run like wild dogs around and around screaming and yelling and refusing to sit still thinking that it is a game to see how quickly they can wear out their adult leaders) boys. I then return home with Rhys and drop him off (my neighbor will be watching all three kids) and dash off to a "Knitting for Peace" meeting, which seemed and still seems like fun, but not today. All this, and today I am gifted with the ultimate proof that I am a woman fully growed.

Today, the only thing that sounds truly delectable is dark chocolate, a good, unquestionably-brain-candy-with-little-redeeming-value novel and clean, warm flannel sheets in my bed. Bliss. Calgon take me away. A hot tub could be good too. But playgroups, and knitting, and scouts, and dragging two four year olds to Walmart, and Parent Club (which has grown so large that I am beginning to understand why Congress never gets anything done) do not!

Today, I wish I were a man. I could write my name in the snow, be a grouch when my hormones were crazy but never hear the words, "Oh he's just PMSing," which is really code for "He's just being a witch but we're supposed to excuse it today because of his hormones." Nope, men can be grouchy and cranky and they are merely assertive. If I were a man, I wouldn't be in Parent Club. My husband asked me, "Why are you going to this meeting?" Clearly demonstrating that he had no interest in such groups and couldn't see any value in spending his time there. If I were a man, I wouldn't have been invited to this all woman play group. Most notably, if I were man, there would be no gift from the gods arriving every month like clockwork. There would be no cramps, no irritability, no immense fatigue, no wanting to cry at every little thing, no feeling like your head is going to explode, no wanting to rip out your innards. . . .

So today, instead of venting at my kids, I am venting into the great unknown, sounding my barbaric yawp at the reality of "Eve's curse." There's nothing I can do but that and take hope in knowing that tomorrow, things will be better and in a week, life will have moved on and I will, most likely, really enjoy being a girl.

Blogger Virgin

So here I write at the encouragement of a friend, wanting so much to be witty and profound and finding I am neither. I'm surprised at the lack of thought in my head; doubly surprising to me as I have so many soap boxes it is often hard to find the one I use for laundry!

Today is a Saturday like any other. Robert is not here (in his defense, he is actually working as opposed to fishing). The weather outside is the lovely gray of summer/fall limbo which I so enjoy. My daughter is sitting on my lap giggling at her picture she printed off from the Super Why website (a superhero dressed by her in pink and purple and named Ariel in honor of Disney's Little Mermaid). She is alternating between smothering me (quite literally) in kisses and holding up the picture right in front of my face, thinking that my attempts to see around her and her picture to what I am typing is just me playing peek-a-boo. I have a pile of laundry calling my name (oh, wait, it has moved and now an actual finger is beckoning me!); dishes with fruit flies buzzing about reminding me that they need to be done; groceries sitting on the table because the refrigerator is full of chopped tomatoes that I need to can so I can put the groceries away. Let's not discuss the current status of my bedroom nor the great guilt of hypocrisy I feel when I tell my children to clean their rooms. All this, yet I type. Truly the evidence of a sick mind.

But, ah, at least I am a virgin no more.