Volume 9, kind of, with a side of drear

Torsten is in Germany for work this week and... ehhhh. It's not super fun. He doesn't travel for work all that much, so I can't really complain (especially since his work is remote and that often comes with a hefty dose of travel). And when he has domestic business trips it's not so bad. But the German ones are just... blah. First of all, he leaves on Saturday afternoon because it's an overnight flight so he arrives in Germany on Sunday morning, takes a nap, has dinner with his parents, and then is rested and ready to work on Monday morning. So we lose pretty much a whole weekend with him every time. Second of all, the eight-hour time difference is absolutely killer. He and I have almost no contact the whole time he's gone--just a couple of quick texts exchanged during the few moments when he has just woken up for the day and I'm about to go to bed.

But the worst part is that he doesn't get to talk to the kids at all the whole time he's gone. When Torsten wakes up for the day, the kids are asleep. When the kids wake up, Torsten is at work. When Torsten gets home from work, the kids are at school. When the kids get home from school, Torsten is asleep. And... repeat. So, it's a full week, not just a work week, of solo parenting for me, combined with a side of the kids missing their dad and asking repeatedly when they're going to get to talk to him and when he's going to come home, and all around it's just no fun.

Also, today is the ninth anniversary of our first date, which is also the day we met for the first time and the day our relationship started. Normally this is the anniversary we care about most, more than our wedding anniversary, but... different continents today, so. Bleh all around.

Anyway! Dreary attitude aside, things are fine, really. The weather has finally turned fall-like, and I noticed this morning that there's fresh snow on the highest mountains, so that's great, and also lovely. With Torsten out of town I can't get to the gym in the evenings, but I've managed to fit in a couple of afternoon sessions, so I feel good about that. A dear friend came over last night after all our respective kids were asleep for the night and just hung out and chatted, and that was delightful and a refreshing dose of adult company. I have a sitter coming tomorrow so I can go to my book club, which I love, so I'm looking forward to that too. And honestly, the kids have been happy and well-behaved and it's going fine.

Also, the kids and I took Montana to the dog park on Monday and for the first time, Callum and Montana really played together, like buds, running together and waiting for each other and just having a good time. Montana has always been totally fine with our kids, gentle and protective, but she has never been thrilled about them--you could tell when we brought Callum home from the hospital that she felt like she was being punished for something, and waves of that rescue dog needy-people-pleaser remorse came rolling off her, and while she's adjusted in the ensuing almost five (!) years, it's never been one of those relationships where kids and dog are BFFs. But at the dog park, they WERE lovely together and very happy, and that was really nice to see.

So it hasn't been a bad week, truly! But. I don't know, it's just dragging. I miss Torsten, and the kids miss him too, and... well, like I said above: ehhhh.

Anyway! Happy anniversary to us. These are the only two pictures I can find of just the two of us from the last year. So... better get on that whole photo-taking thing, because my, how things have changed. So many photos back in the day! Ah, well. The relationship is thriving, so I guess the photos are secondary? Let's hope, anyway.

Dear Torsten, volume 7

Dear Torsten,

Seven years and one day ago, you and I went on our first date. It went very well. So well, in fact, that even though we didn't "officially" determine that we were in a relationship that day, we consider it our anniversary, because we've been together, wholly and uncomplicatedly, ever since.

 

This year, year seven, was apparently the year that we stopped taking photos. I just went through all the photos from the last year and I found photos from three days, in the entire year, that feature both of us. This is due partly to the fact that this was the year that Callum developed an interest in grabbing our camera, so we started storing it out of his reach and out of our own, and partly to the fact that we are busy and our child never holds still and and and. The long and short of it is that there are only three dates where we could actually prove, photographically, that we were together--and the most recent one was 11 months ago. So let's make that a goal for next year--especially with this new baby coming--more pictures, with both of us, taken with a proper camera, please.

 

The lack of physical evidence of our togetherness means nothing, luckily, when it comes to how together we actually were over the course of this year. This year has been jam-packed, and exhausting, and awesome. We took a toddler to three European countries, and went through eight months of pregnancy, and both worked full time. I got a master's degree. We got away--just the two of us--to Cabo for four days, which was blissful but not nearly long enough. And through it all you have been there, being supportive and hilarious and loving and there. Very there. Very together.

 

This pregnancy has taken more of a toll on me than the last one did, even though physically it's been quite straightforward. The combination of a two-year-old and a demanding job and graduate school and pregnancy really started to weigh me down, and I've been turning to you more and more to take on a large share of the household and parenting duties, while I basically lump on the couch. I'd been feeling bad about that--feeling like I was acting lazy and selfish--worrying that I was overburdening you and that you would start to feel resentful--and also feeling like it's unfair of me to ask so much of you when I'm still physically capable of doing most of this stuff, and it's just that I don't have the mental energy to force myself to do it. So last night I dumped all those feelings on you, sure that you were going to tell me that yes, I was asking too much, and it really was unfair, and too much for you--and instead you told me that you feel like you don't do enough. It was the perfect response, and just hearing you say it was an immediate weight off my shoulders. After seven years, we still amaze each other sometimes with how well we know each other, how we can anticipate what the other will think and say and do in certain situations--and that response, and how helpful it was to me, was so reassuring, such a good indicator of how well you really do know me, how much you get me and how good you are at meeting my needs. And I'm so grateful for that, and for you.

 

This next year, and the upcoming transition from one kid to two, will certainly be challenging. But I so appreciate that while I can be nervous about how it will be difficult and exhausting, I don't have to worry about its effect on us. Yes, it will impact our marriage, and yes, we may have to work harder at things we've previously taken for granted. But we will do it together, the way we always do. And it will be fine, and in the end, it will be great. And even during the part where we have to work to adjust, where it might not feel like a change for the better, even if we are snippy with each other sometimes and overtired--underneath it all there's the complete security of knowing that I'm married to you, the right person, the only person I'd want to do this with. Because you are the best. And I swear, even when it might not seem like it--I never forget that.

 

Love,
Jess

Our little penguin

Last time it was a piglet...

This time it's a penguin:

Our own little penguin is due on November 3.

And for those who prefer to visualize the actual fetus instead of a watercolor penguin, here's the profile shot from 12 weeks. Pointy little nose, huh?

(Also, those people who say you show a lot earlier with your second? Really not kidding. I'm 15.5 weeks at the moment and I look about as pregnant as I looked at 20 weeks with Callum. Will work on some belly photos for you guys next week.)

Four years in

Four years ago today, this happened:



Four years seems to be the point where it starts to feel like we are really solidly in this, well beyond the newlywed phase and into real life. And we are. We have a toddler, two jobs, grad school, a house to deal with and a mortgage to pay. Adult things. There's no major upheaval going on right now, just the regular stuff and the routine. But it doesn't feel routine. It's interesting and pleasant and enjoyable and I love it. I love the life we've built together. I love our marriage. I love our family. I love our routine.

This is our family now, four years in. I am so happy with where we are now. I can't wait to see where we go.

(Year One, Year Two, Year Three)

Dear Torsten, volume 6

Dear Torsten,

Six years and two days (sorry!) ago, you and I went on our first date. I was half an hour late and I had your cell phone number, but I didn't call to say I would be late because I thought it would be awkward to talk on the phone before we'd ever met (I've always been the epitome of smoothness, clearly--though in my defense I also didn't call because I didn't realize how far away the restaurant was and kept thinking I'd be there any second). I found out later that I showed up literally right before you were going to walk out. So that was a near-miss, huh?



For the first time in a few years, I'm not going to say that this last year was a huge year for us in terms of life changes. Because there weren't really a whole lot. Things are sort of stable for us right now. We've both been in our "new" jobs for over a year. We have pretty much settled into this parenting thing. We've been in our house for three and a half years now. Though, we did replace the siding on our house this year. That was a pretty major event.

(This picture features the old siding. Just in case you were wondering why we replaced it.)

Basically, it feels like we've sort of moved into the next phase of our life, the domestic-routine-with-kids phase, the one that will last until any and all offspring have vacated the premises. There aren't major shakeups and new things happening all the time recently. This isn't to say that those things won't happen again, because of course at some point they will--but this way isn't so bad either. In fact, I'd go so far as to say it's downright good.



It doesn't feel routine at all. All the little things that happen to us feel fresh and exciting and momentous, and you are a big part of why they feel that way.  You are so excited that Callum can build Legos with you now, that he's spouting off words in German, that he actually listens to and complies with our requests. You are bubbling over with your love for this child. You are amazed by everything he does, and you share that amazement with me and anyone else who will listen.



Your new job has worked out fantastically, and you have been as successful at it as I always thought you would be. It's so nice to see you happy in a job, doing exactly what you've always dreamed of doing and talking passionately about your latest project and how excited you are about it. Even if I am sometimes hard-pressed to keep my eyes from crossing when you begin elaborating on some of the more technical aspects of your work, I'm just so delighted to see you in a career that you are so enthusiastic about.



You've worked really hard this year on not letting your natural worrier tendencies dominate your life, and you've made amazing progress. I am so impressed with how self-aware you've been, how thoughtfully and thoroughly you've tried to improve this aspect of yourself, and how successful you've been. Last week at my parents' house Callum fell down the stairs and rolled head over heels from the top step all the way down to the landing while you and I watched helplessly. It was a sickening feeling, and while we both sprinted to pick him up and check him out and soothe him and make sure he was OK, you did not spend the rest of the week asking worriedly if maybe we'd overlooked a concussion and should we just stop by the ER to be sure. That was the clearest sign yet that things have really changed around here.



A lot of people say that things happen for a reason, that everything will work itself out. I always have a hard time believing that because I've seen many people experience truly atrocious life events, things so awful that they make it feel like an insult to airily announce that in MY perfect life, everything always works out. But things really are wonderful for us, and it's really tempting to ease into that mindset of assuming that they always will be. When in reality, things are so great that sometimes I find myself waiting for the other shoe to drop, wondering when something awful will happen to us. It's a lovely train of thought, isn't it? But the thing is that I've come a long way as far as these types of worries. Maybe something awful will happen to us eventually. Maybe we'll be lucky enough to only have to deal with the regular kinds of tough things. But either way, as long as you're here with me I know I'll be able to handle it. And I hope you feel the same about me, because I'll always be here for you too.



Love,
Jess

Soundtrack stuck in time

One of our cars has satellite radio, which means that I've been listening to the '90s on 9 station a lot recently. As a result, I've been hearing a lot of music that I hadn't thought of in a long time--like C+C Music Factory and Deee-Lite. And Ace of Base and TLC and White Town. But it's those first two, and that similar vein of early 90s dance pop, that really get to me.

I love that music, and not just because nobody can resist dancing to "Gonna Make You Sweat." Mostly I love it because it reminds me of my uncle Michael. I've talked about him before, and Callum gets his middle name after him. He died almost 18 years ago, during what could politely be called a very different musical era from where we are today. Not that today's popular music is necessarily BETTER. Just very different.

I have a memory of driving with my parents and sister up to New York City to visit Michael a couple years before he died. I think it was early 1993? I have some visual memories of his apartment, the layout and the tiny kitchen and maybe a ladder? Like he had a loft bedroom? It's all very fuzzy. I was young and it's been a long time. But I remember his tape deck, his whole musical setup, on a low shelf. And I have a distinct memory of squatting in front of it with him and sorting through albums and him playing music I hadn't heard before, and making me tapes of it. I still have the tapes, carefully labeled in his calligraphic handwriting. C+C Music Factory. Deee-Lite. The bands' names are written on white labels with a thin blue marker. I haven't listened to them in years. I'd have to dig up an old stereo or boom box with a tape deck, for one thing, and for another, I don't know if the tapes are even still functional, and plus, this is the age of digital music, and if I want to hear that music I can just queue it up on Rhapsody and listen to it instantaneously.

There are so many layers to this that feel so, so wrong. It's hardly a groundbreaking realization to point out that hey, when people die, their lives stop while everyone who's still alive keeps living and the world keeps changing, leaving the dead people behind. But it's crazy to me that my uncle, who was so into music, who was so into teaching me to be into music, was forced to stop with the early 90s. That my memories of him are frozen at that time, with that music. That he never knew about MP3s and iPods and Pandora and Rhapsody and Spotify. He didn't know about Napster. His knowledge of music sharing stopped at CDs. For god's sake, he didn't ever even get to know about the Internet. He missed Hanson. He missed the Spice Girls. He missed N Sync. He missed Friends.

And I missed him. I was 10 when he died. We were close, he was my favorite uncle, but I only knew him the way a little kid can know an adult. I don't even know if he would have liked Friends. My guess is no, but I have no idea if I'm right. I have no idea what his taste was like. I know stories about him, I know what some his strengths were and some of his flaws. I know certain things from snippets I remember myself. But that's it. My knowledge of him is mostly gaps.

I remember when he came to visit shortly after I'd finally found out that he had HIV. I was probably nine years old, maybe even ten--it was close to the end of his life but during the visit he wasn't noticeably very ill, at least not to me, but I think I recall that he went downhill fast at the very end so maybe I already was 10 during this visit. We went out to dinner and for dessert Michael offered to share a milkshake with me. I'd only very recently learned about his diagnosis and I hadn't had time to learn much about HIV yet--not to mention that in the early '90s there was still a lot of prominent misinformation about how it was spread. I had no idea if you could get HIV by sharing food with someone. I didn't know what to say. I wanted to share a milkshake with him. I didn't want to offend him. But I didn't know if it was dangerous, and I was scared to ask. But then I told myself that he would never have asked if it could be dangerous, that my parents would not have sat there smiling if it could be dangerous, so I said yes, and we shared the milkshake. And then the next day I went to school and I found a book about HIV at the library and I read about it and I learned that HIV couldn't be transmitted by saliva, and I was relieved.

I've always been so glad that I shared that milkshake with him. And yet it makes me so sad and angry that that's one of the only memories I have of him, one of the only real, clear, firm memories. That everything I know about him is so fuzzy and broken. That I have no memories at all, even fuzzy and broken memories, from before he was sick. That I know we were close, that he was the only one who managed to win me over when I was very little and very shy, that he stayed with my family for awhile, but that I don't really remember the closeness for myself. That almost everything from my life of which I have clear memories happened after he died. That one of the only things that reminds me of him is music that is badly out of date.

It's been almost 18 years since he died. But the pain hasn't gone away. It fades and it's not constantly present, but it's there. It still hurts. Even now. And it feels weird, like maybe I'm overstaking my claim? He was just an uncle. I was just a kid. Maybe if he were still alive, we wouldn't be that close anymore. Maybe I'm using rose-colored lenses. Maybe I should be over it by now.

But I'm not over it. I won't get over it. I miss him. And I'm angry that I missed most of his life, and that he missed most of mine. 18 years later and it's still so unfair that he died when he was just 39. Maybe we wouldn't have been that close by now, if he were still alive. But I wanted the chance to find out.

Three years in

Three years ago today, this happened:


Three years doesn't sound like a ton, but it also doesn't sound like newlyweds anymore. And I don't feel like a newlywed anymore. We have really built a life together, complete with a growing family. I've always wanted to have a baby, even before I knew Torsten--but getting to have a baby with him, particularly him, has been such a special and amazing thing. Of course I would love any baby--but having Torsten's baby, having the incredible experience of creating a brand new person who shares your genes and the genes of the person you love--it's just so COOL. Not to mention how fantastic it is to see the man you married become an amazing father.

Lots of people worry about how having kids will affect their marriage. I didn't really worry about it, per se, but I did wonder. And so far... well, on the one hand everything has changed, but on the other hand, nothing has. Our lives are totally different, our focus has changed, and we can no longer go to the movies whenever we want. But having a kid together has made us even more connected and deepened our relationship. And at the same time, we are still just us. We love each other as much as we ever did, or possibly even more, if such a thing can even be quantified.

I've always been happy with Torsten, but lately I've also just been really, really content. I love the hum and rhythm of our everyday life. Every day just feels peaceful and right.

This is our family now, three years in. I am so happy with where we are now. I can't wait to see where we go.


(Year One, Year Two)

Dear Torsten, volume 5

Dear Torsten,

Five years and one day ago, you and I went on our very first date, the first time we'd met in person after a week and a half of emailing back and forth daily. Despite the fact that I was half an hour late, it seems pretty clear by now that the date went pretty well.


This last year has been fantastic and wonderful in ways that have involved a lot of change and therefore also a fair amount of stress. We've been through a start-up, two new jobs, a pregnancy, and, you know, eight months of babyhood. And through it all you have been amazing. Strong, motivated, caring, and you've never lost your sense of humor.


Recently we decided to finally have an electrician come and install outside lights on our house. You were trying to describe your vision to me. You were saying how we'd have three lights over the driveway on the things between the garage doors. I said, "The posts?" envisioning the columns we have in front of our garage. You said yes. I was very puzzled about why anyone would mount lights on columns, but we went gamely off to Lowe's, where you suggested a decorative iron lantern style light that would have looked ridiculous on a column. I stared at you like you were crazy and suggested plain, unobtrusive white floodlights. You stared at me like I was crazy, but agreed to buy them. When we got home you changed your mind so I threw my hands up and told you to get whatever lights you wanted. You bought the decorative lanterns and when the electrician finished installing them, you told me to come outside and take a look. I came out and the damn lights weren't mounted on the columns at all. They were mounted on the three sections of brick wall that separate our garage doors, and they looked fantastic. The whole thing struck me as really funny, because we spent so long talking past each other in Lowe's and the entire time you knew exactly what you were talking about and I was the one who was totally confused. It just goes to show--when I trust you, things come out right. Although I still maintain that sections of brick wall are not "posts."


By far the best thing about this past year has been seeing you as a father. You are so completely head-over-heels for our baby, and it's so amazing to see you together. The two of you are so very bonded and he just lights up when he sees you--and you light up when you see him too. You are such a happy and confident father, carting Callum around on one hip and getting up in his face to laugh and shriek with him. It is such a cool thing to have made a whole new person who is the combination of our two sets of genes, and yet also his own person entirely.


This whole last year we were on a pretty tight budget and as a result we didn't take a single vacation together until we finally did a long weekend in Santa Fe this last July. And while we both missed the vacations we would have liked to take, missed having time to get away and just enjoy each other without any of the usual everyday stressors, the constant wear of the day-to-day life didn't change anything about our relationship. We didn't get sick of each other; we didn't snipe at each other; we didn't feel like we needed any time apart. Such a thing never crossed our minds. The best part of a vacation is getting away with you, but the best part of not being on vacation and just living our regular lives is also getting to be with you. Really, it's a win-win.


The thing about being married to you is that it's just really nice. I don't know a better way to phrase it. It's just really enjoyable to see you every day, chat with you about everything from politics to people to travel to our baby and the daily minutiae of our lives. It's great to wake up to you every morning and go to sleep next to you every night. And I like seeing you during the day, too. And I hope we never lose the habit of gchatting each other even when we're just on different floors in the same house. It might sound weird, but I love that we have each other at our fingertips for anything we want to discuss, big or small.


Sometimes when I think about the life we've built together I just can't even believe how lovely and amazing it is. How lucky we both are to have found someone we connect with so perfectly, someone we match with on those big important "ideal mate checklist" levels and also on the little day-to-day things-you-don't-think-about-until-you're-married levels. And how lucky we are to have expanded our love to a whole family, complete with baby and even dog. I can't imagine any other life I'd rather have, any other place I'd rather be. Because you are here, and I will always want to be with you.


Love,
Jess

Newborn attachment

So it turns out, I love having a baby. LOVE it.

It helps that we've been incredibly lucky with Callum so far, and he is generally calm and laid-back. So far he's been sleeping like a dream and eating like a champ, and fussing pretty much only when he's hungry. I know at some point this will change, but we are loving it while it lasts.

It also helps that he's pretty much the cutest thing ever. He's smiling up a storm. He coos when you talk to him. He's captivated by toys. He likes to lie on his activity mat and wave his hands and legs so they bump into the toys. He can do that for upwards of 45 minutes at a time without getting bored. He's rolled over once (tummy to back), and now he's trying really hard to recreate it. Every day during tummy time, he grunts and tries to heave himself over. He's getting really close. I imagine in a couple weeks he'll be doing it regularly... and that will be the end of tummy time.


I love this baby so, so much, to the point where it almost hurts. I love him so much that it almost makes me wistful because it's just so MUCH, if that makes any sense. I love him so much that sometimes I miss him while I'm holding him.

And it has been so awesome to read the blogs of other new moms, and see what's the same and what's different for each of us. I'm constantly impressed by how we all adapt, how we all figure out what works for us and our own individual babies, and how things that aren't right for me or Torsten or Callum at all can be totally, utterly right for other people.

One area in which I notice that I am different from a lot of new moms is in terms of how I express my attachment to Callum. I love holding him, for sure. But I also love being able to put him down. I love that he is entertained on his activity mat and in his bouncy seat, that he sleeps peacefully in his swing and on his boppy. I have no problem putting him down and taking a break so I can eat, shower, work, call family or friends, blog, sleep, spend time with Torsten, or just relax.

I also have no problem letting other people hold him. This never bothered me even when he was just two days old. For me, there's enough baby to go around, and I'll have plenty of time to enjoy him when other friends and family members are done loving on him. I don't feel compelled to take him back when he's in someone else's arms. And I love how much he loves his dad, and how much time they spend together. I enjoy that Torsten can give Callum his bottle, and that they can snuggle together happily for hours.


And, I don't mind leaving the house briefly without him. I can spend an hour running errands, or go to a meeting with our accountant, knowing that he's safe at home with his dad, and that's totally fine. Of course I'm happy to see his adorable little face when I get back... but sometimes it's nice to be out and about on my own, just me. (Though I will say that I am not yet ready to leave him for an extended period of time, or with anyone but Torsten. Maybe in a few more weeks.)

I've been struck by how other new moms feel differently. How it feels off for them when they aren't holding their baby, how it feels totally unnatural for their baby to sleep in his crib in his own room because they want him right there next to them all the time.

I can totally understand why they would feel that way... but I personally do not. I love my baby, I love having him with me, I love holding him, and believe me, I shower tons and tons of affection on him (as does his dad), but I am also happy and relaxed when he's not in my arms, or even if he's in a different room.

And the great thing is... all these ways of being, of feeling, of attaching to your newborn? They're all fine. All of us have happy, loved, well-adjusted babies. All of us are meeting their needs and our own, and enjoying the process. It's just a very early example of how, as parents, we all have to figure out what works for us. And if we can do that without judging people who have found that different things work for them? So much the better.

Two years in

Two years ago today, this happened:





Cliche as it is, our wedding was one of the best days of my life. And yet, at the same time, things have gotten so much better since then. The things that we've managed to do with our lives in just two years astound me sometimes. It's been fantastic doing them with this amazing, wonderful man. I feel so lucky that I get to live my life with him.

This is our family now, two years in. I am so happy with where we are now. I can't wait to see where we go.

Dear Torsten, volume 4

Dear Torsten,

Exactly four years ago today, you and I went on our very first date. Just over two years later, we would be married. On this day four years ago, neither of us knew that would happen--but we both did have a sense that this date wasn't going to be like most others. That this relationship was special right from the day we met.


I probably say this every year, but this past year has been our best yet. Big stuff has happened--you quitting your job to start your own company, me getting pregnant--and when we look back on this year that will certainly be the stuff that stands out... but it isn't just that. There are little things, too. We hosted Christmas at our own home for the very first time. We settled into Denver and started establishing a real little network of friends. We took walks in the snow and hikes in the sun. You held me all night as I cried when I didn't get pregnant our first month trying. I wouldn't have even thought it was possible, but everything that has happened this year has made us even closer than ever. Not everything that's happened to us has been good, or easy--but the overall flavor of this year has been wonderful, because it was a year spent with you.


I still can't believe that I am lucky enough to have this life with you, to live with you every day and go to sleep with you every night. That we have created a child together and in a few months we get to meet this child and spend our lives with him. You have been nothing but supportive and understanding throughout this pregnancy--rubbing my back every day, coming to every prenatal appointment, discussing names for hours (even if you DID suggest the name Fritz in all seriousness, and let's just try to forget that you also argued for Alfred and Kelis), reminding me to take my vitamins without lecturing. You are adorably excited about having a baby. I really do swear that he looks just like you, and let me tell you right now that I will be disappointed if I'm wrong.


I hope that he is like you in other ways too. I hope that he develops your ethics, your strong sense of right and wrong, your desire to always do what's right. I hope that he has a sense of humor like yours, that he can find the amusing or ironic in any situation. I hope that he will make faces like you do. I hope that he will have red hair as a child like you did. I hope that he will be adorably serious when he's concentrating like you are. I love these things about you. I can't wait to see in what ways our child is like you, or like me, and in what ways he will be all his own self.


This next year is going to be, without a doubt, the most life-changing either of us has ever experienced. In some ways I wonder if we're crazy to voluntarily change things up so much when our life pretty wonderful exactly the way it is. But really I know that things will always be wonderful with you, no matter the situation. Because you yourself are wonderful. And I can't wait for the next part, because I know you'll be there too.


Love,
Jess

Marriage optimist

This girl I knew in high school appears to have gotten divorced. I say "appears" because I haven't actually been in touch with her for years, but she just took her Facebook "married to" status down so her relationship status isn't listed at all anymore, and changed her name back to her maiden name. So it seems pretty clear. This is after months of cryptic posts about how she will get through the tough times, and she's so glad her friends are there to support her, and so on. Also someone posted on her wall once about how she would get through this, and the first TEN YEARS (!!) of a marriage are the hardest. I don't know, maybe I'm young and naive, but a 10-year rough patch at the start of a marriage sounds like a pretty freaking long rough patch. I mean, even if you stay married for 50 years, that's a good 20% of your marriage right there. My goodness.

ANYWAY, my initial point with this had nothing to do with her divorce, really. It has to do with the fact that her Facebook profile had a customized URL, and it was her married name. You know, facebook.com/firstname.marriedname. And now she is Firstname Maidenname again, but the URL of her Facebook profile still has her married name. And I remember when Facebook first started offering customized URLs, they gave a strict warning about how you had to choose carefully because once the URL is assigned it can't be changed, but dude, do you think they could make an exception for divorced people? Because how much does it suck to go through a divorce, drop your married name, and still have it staring you and all your friends in the face every time you log onto Facebook? I'm just saying.

Also, this is one of the first divorces I've witnessed via Facebook. AND, another friend has just changed his Facebook status from "married" to "separated." I didn't even know that "separated" was an OPTION for a Facebook relationship status. But apparently it is. I wonder if it's been added recently? Due to popular demand?

I was in college when Facebook was launched, so I grew up with it, so to speak, since at first it was targeted only to college students, and that's what I was at the time. As I've gotten older I've watched my friends' relationship statuses change from joke marriages to their close friends to "it's complicated" to "in a relationship" to "engaged" to "married." And I guess now I'm entering the time in my life when some of those marriages start to fall apart, and so I should reasonably expect to see more and more people listing their relationship status as "separated" or "divorced."

But STILL. It doesn't get any easier to watch, even with people you barely know. My sister went through a divorce, and that is obviously the divorce that has affected me personally the most, and, you know, it wasn't MY divorce so I was mostly there as her support system, and now she's remarried and pregnant (did I mention she is having a girl? By the way? Because she is, and, you know, YAY, and also how convenient for my parents that they get a matched set of boy-girl grandchildren arriving approximately six weeks apart, no?), and everything seems to have worked out quite beautifully for her, so that's great, but it still doesn't mean I'm less traumatized when other people get divorced. Or separated. Even if it's people I haven't spoken to in years. Even if it's people whose spouses I never met. Even if it's people whose lives I didn't think I was the least bit invested in.

I guess I just want EVERY marriage to work. And I blithely assume that they all will. My own marriage is so lovely and I want to assume that every other married couple has an equally lovely relationship of their own. And so I DO assume it, and then suddenly some of them are divorced and that means they didn't have the marriage I wanted them to have, or they did and then something changed, and either way: SAD.

And don't even get me STARTED on blog divorces. Whenever somebody in blogland announces that they're getting divorced, it hits me over the head like a sledgehammer. I'm never expecting it, NEVER, even if the person has been writing for ages about how their marriage is struggling.

Call me naive, but I'm not really looking forward to the continued disillusions about other people's marriages that are sure to keep coming in the next few years. So I think I'll keep on assuming and hoping that everyone I know has a great, happy marriage that will last for the rest of their lives. Even if that means I have to be shocked and upset on occasion when I find out news to the contrary.

Family walking

Last night Torsten and I walked to the grocery store to buy some milk. (The fact that we can walk to the grocery store still makes me so happy.) We took the dog with us and strolled, not in any rush, and when we got there I waited outside with Montana while Torsten bought the milk, and then we walked home.

It's so simple, right? It's nothing, it's the kind of thing you wouldn't even bother Tweeting about, and yet. The weather was beautiful, cool and dry, and it was dark and we could see all the stars, and we passed a few neighbors and cheerfully said hello to all of them. We saw a fox and listened to the sprinklers in the park and debated cloth vs. disposable diapers (still no conclusions on this one, in case you're curious).

It was just peaceful, you know? It was a regular everyday basic thing to do and yet it was wonderful, because it was us together, me and Torsten and Piglet and Montana (and yes it is deliberate that I listed Piglet before Montana, because she's about to find out that she'll be moving down the totem pole). And everything about it was lovely. And I hope that even when we have a non-sleeping baby, and then a tantrumy toddler, and then an exhausting whirlwind of elementary school activities, every now and then we'll find time to take a walk and even time to enjoy it.

And I'm really excited for the time when the four of us go for a walk, but Piglet is in the stroller, or a baby carrier, instead of inside me. When there's a real live baby to take for walks.

Of course, the baby is due in January and so it will be more like tramping cautiously through the snow than strolling through the peaceful mild evening, and we will have to use the baby carrier and not the stroller unless we get a special snow-equipped stroller, and it will be chilly and we likely won't go as far as the grocery store.

But then! Then the baby will get bigger and the weather will get warmer and even though it's all a big cycle it will feel so different, every year, every time. And I love this year, this time, but I am also so excited about next year, this time.

But in the meantime a walk with my husband is enough. More than enough.

Our little piglet

This past spring, when we started trying to get pregnant, I permitted myself the indulgence of browsing Etsy for some prints that we could potentially hang in our nursery someday. I put a whole bunch on my favorites list, some really nice ones. I told myself that if I got pregnant, we would decorate the nursery once I hit the second trimester, and not before.

But then I found one print that stood out among the rest:


And Torsten and I agreed that if I got pregnant, we would order this print, just this one, as soon as we found out. And then I tried really hard not to think about the possibility of never getting to order that print.

And then a few months ago, two lines appeared on that stick, and I bought that piglet watercolor.

Our own little piglet is due on January 19.

(Sonogram photo from a month ago, when I was 8.5 weeks along)

The one that got away?

I was reading Busty Satan's post about finding out on Facebook that an ex-boyfriend is now married, and it got me thinking about past relationships, first loves, all that jazz.

I only know of one guy that I've dated who is married now. Souley, the man I dated while I was living in Senegal. As I said in my comment on BS's post, I found out a couple years after I moved back to the US that he had married a French woman and they had a daughter together.

By the time I found out about this, I was already dating Torsten and I was long since over Souley. I thought of him with fondness and wondered how he was doing, but I didn't miss him and I didn't miss being with him. I knew that a long-term relationship with him would never have worked out, and I had no regrets. So, when I heard that he was married with a child, I was mostly happy for him.

The one thing that gave me pause was the fact that his wife was French. The woman Souley dated before me was Dutch, and white. Their relationship was long-term and very serious. I didn't think too much about it, at the time. Two foreign girlfriends could be totally coincidental.

But three? Three stops seeming like a coincidence to me. Three starts seeming like a pattern. Three foreign women (and I am presuming, though I don't know for sure, that his French wife is white) starts to seem like a desire for a change. A desire for a visa, more specifically.

Maybe I'm jaded, because when I was in Senegal I received marriage proposals from strange men on the street pretty much every single day, and many of them were quite up-front about wanting a white wife who could get them a visa and a ticket out of Senegal. This isn't some paranoia in my head. I am always generally skeptical of relationships between Senegalese men and white foreign women for this reason. Souley seemed like an exception to me, especially since we had discussed at the beginning of our relationship the fact that it would end when I moved back to the US. We agreed. That was the plan. And we stuck to it. So I didn't see any ulterior motives.

But now, with the third foreign woman in a row? I don't know anymore. I suspect that he was looking for a foreign woman. I suspect that part of the reason why he even noticed me to begin with had to do with the fact that I was white, foreign, American, rich (relatively speaking). I don't think that's the whole reason. I don't think you can fake five months of being in love the way we were at the time. But I think it was probably a factor.

But the thing is? It doesn't matter. We had a great relationship. We really enjoyed each other. We cared about each other. We walked away from that relationship both feeling fulfilled and happy. My memories of my time with him are positive. And now I've moved on, and so has he.

Maybe he wanted a foreign wife. Maybe that's part of why he dated me. But that doesn't change the fact that we were good together, we had fun together, we supported each other.

Maybe I'm a subjectivist, but if we both look back on our relationship positively, and we've both moved on and are now happy with other people, having found what we wanted... does it matter why he was interested in me in the first place? Does it matter why I was interested in him?

I don't think it does.

Mirror mirror on the wall. Or off the wall.

I have a thing about mirrors. I don't get them, and therefore they scare me. I mean, I get them, as in I understand that they reflect things, and therefore the images they show are reversed. But I don't get them in that, say, if I'm in a department store and I catch sight of something in a mirror, it takes me FOREVER to figure out where it actually is when I turn around. I'm not good at figuring things out backward, apparently.

Also, mirrors scare me a little bit. I don't like surprises, and when you aren't good at figuring out where things you see in the mirror actually are in reality, unexpected reflections are a big surprise, you know what I mean?

When Torsten and I had only been dating for a couple months (and I probably would have blogged about this at the time, except I didn't have a blog then... hard to imagine that there was ever a time when I didn't have a blog, right?), we had a little moment.

I was in the bathroom of my apartment brushing my teeth before bed. Torsten was hanging out in the living room. I had my back toward the door and was facing the mirror. Then Torsten got the brilliant idea of sneaking up behind me and scaring me. (This is a clear sign that we'd only been dating a couple months... we obviously didn't know each other that well yet.)

Anyway, his plan worked. Really, really well. I have a very vivid memory of standing there, peacefully brushing my teeth, and then this THING suddenly appearing in the mirror next to me. And yes, I understand now that the THING was my boyfriend, but at the time it was just a THING, a scary moving THING right behind me and OMG I flipped my shit.

Seriously, I shrieked at the top of my lungs and then hid in the towel rack. I know. Towels don't really protect you from THINGS appearing in your mirror. But I collapsed against the towel rack, shaking. And then I cracked up laughing. I laughed and laughed, not because I thought it was funny but because it had scared the shit out of me and apparently I laugh when I'm incredibly stressed? I don't even know.

Except that then I stopped laughing and started crying. Really, I did. I couldn't help it. I was freaked out and I was laughing and I couldn't breathe and then I was crying. I don't think I can adequately explain the shock of seeing him suddenly appear in the mirror like that. It was beyond traumatizing. And yes, I know, in REALITY it wasn't a big deal. But Jesus Christ did it scare me at the time. I can still remember the heart-stopping clench when I saw the movement behind me in the mirror.

Anyway, Torsten was very concerned and kept apologizing and sat me down on the couch and brought me some water and tried to get me to stop crying, and eventually I did calm down and started breathing normally again and we all moved on (though I still have horrible memories of the whole experience).

So the other night I was in the bathroom getting changed for bed and Torsten wrapped his arms around me and put his hands on my bare back, and they were FREEZING cold and very unexpected and I had another moment of heart-stopping shock. Seriously, I swear my kidneys briefly stopped functioning. It wasn't anywhere near as bad as the mirror episode, but it did vaguely remind both of us of it. (Possibly because again, I retreated to the towel rack, which is apparently my bathroom safe place?)

So we were talking about the whole mirror thing, and Torsten casually mentioned that when it happened, I was so freaked out that he was afraid I was going to break up with him.

Luckily, I can definitively say that the thought never crossed my mind. In fact, just hearing that he was worried about it made me laugh, a lot. It seems like such a ridiculous reason to break up with someone. I mean, really, what would I have done? Screamed at him, "How dare you sneak up on me? Get out!" and sent him packing right then and there?

But, you know. The rest of my reaction was wildly irrational, so I guess his worries weren't totally off-base.

Still, I think it's safe to say that I am quite glad that my insane reaction to the whole thing didn't extend so far as to break up with the man who I instead ended up marrying. But I am quite glad that he no longer sneaks up on me, ever. We've come a long way since then, apparently.

What about you? What are your irrational fears and tics?

Quotidian

Montana has clearly learned both conditions of being allowed on the couch. She was pretty quick to figure out that if the blanket is on the couch, that's her spot. And it only took one occasion where she jumped on the blanket without an invitation and got a very loud reprimand from both of us simultaneously for her to figure out that she can only get on the couch with an invitation.

So, her latest thing is to stand by the couch, looking hopeful, wagging her tail, and occasionally whining. If we then put the blanket on the couch and pat it, she sails on right away. Sometimes we don't respond to her pleading, though, and then she goes and lies in her bed in the corner of the room. Just so that she doesn't think that all she has to do is whine to get her way.

Still, though. Pretty much nothing makes me happier than being curled up on the couch with my husband and our dog. The two of them are pretty much my favorites in the world, and also the cutest in the world as far as I'm concerned. And all three of us fit on the couch perfectly. I love sitting there with my feet on Torsten's lap, watching the dog curled up and happily snoring between us.

I mean, really. Who could resist these two?


Seriously, sitting on the couch with them there next to me just makes me feel positively swollen with love. No matter whether we're chatting, reading, watching football, doing stuff on our computers... it just makes me feel cozy and happy and loving and loved. I could happily spend days curled up with the two of them.

What about you? What are the little daily moments in your life that you just can't get enough of?

A very important guest post

My name is brandy. And I have a blog.

And a plea.

I use my blog to showcase the crazy I meet everyday, share the stories of the kids I teach and document my love for tequila, dairy products and the abdominal muscles of Ryan Reynolds. Rarely do I talk about personal issues on my blog- as personal as the dude that I adore (who I actually met through my blog- single ladies, let that be a very good reason to blog, the possibility of meeting someone as wonderful as my man), but I need your help. And it involves my dude.

He's a guy who made math comics for my class, so they would love learning about addition. He's the kinda guy who sends my friends gift cards when they are having hard times, who remembers every story I ever told him, who was the first person I celebrated with when I got a teaching job. He's the guy who sent flowers to me at school- dozens of my favourite pink roses just because he loves me. He's a guy who has spent a year patiently explaining (and re-explaining) everything there is to know about football during the important games when silence is preferred. He's made me word puzzles and comics and stayed up late playing Scrabble with me (even though I beat him almost every time). He's listened to me cry about school and family and jobs. He is everything I never knew I needed and everything I always knew I wanted.

The holidays have hit us hard. He's recently been told he may have something called multiple myeloma- an incurable cancer, that gives a person an average of five years of continued life. Though this news has came as a shock, he continues to be exactly who has always been- spending his time worrying about me, rather than worrying about himself. He's the most selfless individual I know- (he stayed late on Christmas Eve to work, so his co-workers could leave early) and a post like this would never be something that he would promote or encourage but when I'm overwhelmed and feeling helpless, the blogging community has always given me tremendous support and comfort, two things I desperately need at this time.

As I write this, the future is uncertain and we aren't sure what's happening. He'll need to see an oncologist soon, to verify what's going on in his body. My hope is that everyone who reads this think positive thoughts and if you are a person who prays, could you add him to your list? (You can refer to him as 'brandy's hot awesome dude'). If you don't pray, please keep him in your heart.This cancer is only a possibility and I believe that the prayers and positive thoughts of people can make sure it never becomes a reality.

I want to give a big thank you to the blog owner who scraped their original blog plans and graciously put this up. My goal is to get as many people as possible to see and read this post. If you are reading this and want to help, copy and paste my plea into your blog or send a link through twitter, so more people can keep him in their thoughts. I would be so very grateful (even more grateful than I am to my friend who first showed me the picture of Ryan Reynolds on the cover of Entertainment Weekly. If you haven't seen it, google it. You. Are. Welcome).

I realize this all sounds dramatic, a Lifetime movie in the making- but this is life. Right now. And I'm throwing away any hint of ego and am humbly asking for you to pray or think kind thoughts. If you are able to pass this on, thank you and if you know anything regarding MM- please email me (my email is on my blog). This isn't a call for sympathy or a plea for pity. It's just one girl hoping you can think positive thoughts for the person she adores. If my current heartache provides you with anything, let it be with the reminder that life is short, love is unbending and no one knows what could happen next. Maybe it is silly, but I really do believe that positive thoughts can make a huge difference. Thank you for reading this and if you haven't already? Please tell someone you love them today.

I did.

What are your big issue dealbreakers?

All this preparation for pregnancy has gotten me thinking about how lucky Torsten and I are that we are so compatible and have such similar outlooks. Love is important, of course, but as far as I'm concerned, love alone is not enough to make a marriage and a shared life work. It's not that you have to be clones of each other and of one mind about anything. But there are certain things that you need to have in common, or at the very least learn to respect and tolerate about each other.

I'm not talking about those hypothetical dealbreakers, like not dating a guy shorter than you. I'm not even talking about things like politics and religion--while I know that those can be Big Issues for some, for me, it's more about respect, reason, and open-mindedness. I have a problem with politicians who seem to be making decisions that are bad for the country but good for them personally, but I don't have a problem with people who disagree with me politically, but still have the good of the people at heart.

For me it's more about goals, ambitions, lifestyle preferences, priorities. How do we want to spend our money? What things are we willing to sacrifice and compromise on, and what things are set in stone for us? Where are our sore points, our sources of disagreement, and how can we resolve them?

For us, these sore points have been minimal, and easily resolved. We have been lucky in this regard. But the whole thing leads me to wonder... what do you do when you fall in love, really deeply in love, with someone who isn't compatible with you in some crucial way?

For example, what would I do if Torsten were dead set against having children? On Friends, Monica broke up with Richard because he didn't want kids. Would I have done that with Torsten? I don't think it's a good idea to plow into a marriage assuming you'll work out Big Issues like this down the road. But how could I give up Torsten ever, under any circumstances? I can't fathom it, I literally can't wrap my head around the idea of it. But what would I do if being with him required one of us giving up something else so important to us that we couldn't conceive of our future without it?

I want kids. I want them so badly. I really cannot imagine what I would do if Torsten didn't want them too. I wouldn't leave him--I know that. But would I have let things get this far with him to begin with? Because say I decided that being with him was more important than having kids, that I knew I wanted to spend my life with him, and that was more important than kids to me. And I think that would be the decision that I would have made, because how could I not be with him?

But then doesn't that affect the relationship? Wouldn't I develop negativity and resentment toward him for essentially preventing me from having something that I desperately desired and even needed? But on the reverse side, if he did agree to have kids because I wanted them, wouldn't he resent me for so fundamentally changing our lives and shifting our priorities? And wouldn't it be unfair to the kids to have a parent who merely gave in to having them, instead of actively wanting them?

What do you do in this sort of situation? Do you just move ahead, make a decision that satisfies one person but not the other, and hope that it doesn't lead to conflict down the line? Or, if you need to deal with it ahead of time... how do you do that? How do you address an issue like this, where one person has to win and one person has to lose, and still preserve your relationship going forward?

Honestly, I don't know. And I feel very lucky that I don't have to find out, that this is a huge issue that we don't have to deal with. That we do have similar goals, and that every disagreement we've had has been a small issue, something that allowed for compromise, something that didn't leave anyone feeling fundamentally dissatisfied.

What would you do? Have you ever broken up with someone you otherwise could have seen spending your life with due to an issue like this? Or, have you ever decided to stay with someone despite an issue like this? What issues do you not think you could compromise on?

Private details of a marriage

Last night I read an article from the New York Times Magazine called Married (Happily) With Issues. As I read it--the full thing, all 10 pages--I found myself almost involuntarily comparing my marriage with the author's. Not just in terms of length of marriage but also in terms of routines, affection, communication, sources of conflict. I found more differences than similarities. And yet like the author, I know that my marriage is very happy.

Only the people who are in a relationship can really know what's going on in that relationship (and sometimes even they don't know). Even if I sat here and wrote a blog post that spelled out every mundane detail, every little interaction and discussion and piece of our marriage, still nobody except Torsten and me could ever know what it's like or how it feels.

The author of this article walked us through some very intimate parts of her marriage, fights and sources of pain. She gave great detail. And as I read, I tried not to judge. Because even these things that she was describing, even the ones that sounded foreign and horrifying to me, even those things can't really be understood by anyone who wasn't a part of them. Because different things are sacred to different people. What is a horrible, cruel thing to say in one marriage is irrelevant and casual in another.

I'm reminded of a post that Slynnro wrote once (and that I now cannot find) about how she and her husband do not go grocery shopping together, and people judge them for it. I can see why some people's first reaction would be surprise, or even horror, if for them shopping is a big deal, and a source of intimacy or collaboration. But I think that's what people are really reacting to when they learn details of other people's marriages. It's not, "How can you be happy together if you can't even shop together?" (even if those are the words that are said); it's, "I interpret this detail to mean that you don't share intimacy, because I myself draw something important from this same detail in my own relationship."

This is why, even if I shared every detail of my marriage on my blog, my readers could still never really know exactly what it all means and how it all feels. Because ultimately, though of course we're capable of empathy, our reactions to other people are usually reflections of ourselves.

And still, even believing this to be true, I found myself judging some of the things the author described. For example, I was horrified when she detailed how her husband invoked divorce during a fight. For us, in our marriage, such a thing is unthinkable. If Torsten ever suggested anything about a divorce to me, I can't even imagine how I would react--it's just that unfathomable. I can't imagine any situation, ever, where I would say such a thing to him.

But that doesn't mean it's the same for all couples. And that doesn't mean that just because neither of us can even conceive of contemplating divorce in any context, our marriage is perfect. I will say that so far, we haven't had those struggles that people talk about when they say that being married is hard, and takes work. Of course, it does--I acknowledge that--and yet at the same time as I think about it, I don't think it's hard, and I don't think we work at it, exactly.

And maybe that's bad? Maybe we should be working at it. Or maybe we're just defining "work" differently--because we do take care of each other, and make a point to be thoughtful toward each other, and make compromises for each other, and make choices that we wouldn't make if we as individuals were the only factor in the equation. Maybe that's what other people call "work"? Or maybe we're missing something that is necessary for some couples to be happy together, but is not necessary for us.

Of course, we've only been married for a little over a year. We don't have kids and our lives are relatively stress-free. Perhaps what causes a marriage to require work is time, and distance, and competing priorities. Maybe right now our marriage doesn't feel like work because it's so easy and natural to focus on each other.

Certainly there are things we could do better, and this article, though the author's marriage seems quite different from my own, made me realize some of them. In some places in our marriage, I put myself first, and then I feel guilty about it. And in other places I put Torsten first without even realizing it, and to my own detriment, and in a way that isn't necessary. Maybe I feel that one balances out the other? And I'm pretty sure that the key to balancing this out without creating a competition, even if it's all in my head, is to talk to him about it and express my thoughts and needs.

The thing is that I'm so comfortable with him, and he's so easy to talk to, and we talk about so many different things, that I don't even really notice if there's something I'm not talking to him about. I don't notice that it's there or that it needs to be discussed. It isn't actively bothering me. My needs are met, as are my non-need-wants, and so are his. And so I don't even notice the little things that slip through the cracks sometimes. But that doesn't mean I shouldn't bring them up when I do notice them.

And maybe in other marriages these little things would be big things, huge problems. Or maybe they wouldn't be things at all. I can speculate about this, but I can't know. Because the only marriage I can really access and understand is my own.