marital efficiencies

I haven’t been getting any rest on the weekends lately. That’s because when my children are home, they’re running me ragged. And when they’re not, a certain special guy has been keeping me up at night.

We sat on a park bench one day a while back, both of us stifling yawns as we proposed big, wild ideas for the evening, of which none stood any real chance of actual implementation, because we were both far too tired. I teased him about keeping me up all night and translated that into what could be a future state, whether with me or another, in the wonderful, blissful drudgery of married life and parenting:  “All that caressing and foreplay and loving gets squeezed into the daily routine of life, with children in the next room and narrow windows of opportunity, and what we now do until all hours of the morning gets condensed into a very functional 13 minutes.”

I think that’s a pretty real example of something that happens in many marriages with children. And I don’t think it’s really such a bad thing when it does. Work lives, logistics, spit up, diapers, play dates, hobbies, the gym, sports, other activities, chauffeur duties and more enter back into a humdrum stream of days. The romance and excitement make way for everyday life. Love, which was once demonstrated with flowers and kisses, takes on new meaning, like cleaning up the toddler’s vomit.

I mean, you still have to take time for one another, keep the magic alive…but, as I’ve written before, I was totally cool with married sex…it was efficient in a very satisfying way. There are other opportunities for intimacy and loving acts and I guess my point is that sex can’t really take center stage forever in a relationship. A certain equilibrium or balance or something takes over… Life can be beautifully, exquisitely, satisfyingly routinized — almost boring — without ever getting remotely dull.

How did my guy respond to this whole train of thought? He laughed and gave me a big ol’ “Hell no!”

And does that mean I want to trade sleep for being kept up late loving and caressing? Nah, I kinda dig this stuff, too.

2011…the year in review

I’ve been writing this blog for a little more than a year now, with varying levels of dedication. I began in December, 2010 with the notion that I’d write about the crush that helped cement my motivation to end my failing marriage, and that kept me afloat through a good share of the process.

By that time, I’d also had a few other dalliances — and complete misses (as in the case of Chi-guy) that struck me as hysterical. From the dating horror stories I’d heard from girlfriends, I was sure I’d have many tales to tell about my re-entry into the dating pool.

Even as I began dating, and then dating someone exclusively, I’m surprised at how much I’ve found to write about relationships, marriage, commitment and more. It’s been a cathartic experience, one from which I’ve grown. For example, I’ve been a little overwhelmed lately with the challenges of owning a fixer-upper home, but consider that a couple of years ago I was overwhelmed at the notion of bikini line grooming.

Sharing here has also produced a few surprises:

  • My blog was most visited on the day that I wrote a post called Spiritual Soul Mates.
  • The two most popular searches that bring readers here are “failed at forty” and “toe cleavage.” I’m guessing that those looking for the latter are not particularly inclined to come back.
  • Men seem to be intimidated by the fact that I write this blog.

In the past few months, I am delighted to say that I have a boyfriend. I wanted a boyfriend. And it’s so much fun to be in a relationship and to discover another and also myself and to support and be supported as I continue to heal. I also have a demanding full-time job and two children, which leaves me with very little time to write. I promise to stop in when I can…I seem to have plenty more to say.

Cheers to a New Year — may it be even better than the last for all of us!

overwhelmed, again

I have had a horrible day. I have never once believed that such a thing as Murphy’s Law existed but, for the first time, it seems to today. It seems to be one calamity after another around here and, if it’s more than I can manage to simply keep things somewhat picked up, then how on earth am I to manage the upkeep, maintenance and repairs of things, as well.

A few days ago I entered one of those silly internet games, a Dead Pool, in which people place bets on which celebrities will die in the coming year. We may as well place bets on which part of my property will go next…recent months have taken a clothes dryer, car, garbage disposal, garage door opener and refrigerator. Count the air conditioner and furnace in recent years and, of course, the roof…and then ceiling. Lord, how I somedays wish to dump this place onto a younger, more willing couple, fresh with energy and just starting out. Because it all seems to much to deal with anymore.

Yes, I am overwhelmed.

Many times I have thought about selling. Yet it will take tens of thousands to get in selling condition. And my children would declare mutiny, I’m sure. They are fond of this money pit in this charming and friendly neighborhood. It’s the only home they’ve known.

Well-meaning folks have said things like, “There’s a lesson in this somewhere.” Which is a good way to get my ire up. If there were truly one more goddamned lesson to be mined from the pain and heartache I’ve been through, I’d like to think I’d have durned well learned it by now!

Sometimes I become embittered and think, “If only things had been different…” By things, of course, we are discussing my wasband’s lack of income generation. We bought this home thinking of living here a few years and moving up to something better. But with a single income and two small children and a market which seemed to have peaked before we were ready to sell, there’s been no moving up…only a constant toiling. So I suppose if things had truly been different, we’d have sold and split our equity in a nicer home and I’d be back in something more modest. Something probably a lot like this!

best girlfriend ever

I am the self-proclaimed Best. Girlfriend. Ever.

I mean that.

Here’s why:  My guy can give me his lovin’ on the weekends and focus on his work during the week. I’m not some needy girl who needs constant attention. I gots plenty to keep me busy. I’ve told him as much.

For those of you who’ve been following, I work full-time and parent nearly full-time. So it’s no joke that it’s tough to find time to connect during the week. But I daresay some guys would see this as a bonus.

Not yet sure whether my guy appreciates where I’m coming from on this one. Give him time. He’ll come around to seeing things from my perspective.

Best. Girlfriend. Ever.

the Christmas wrap

I’ve been crazy busy lately, putting on my sprinting cleats as soon as I wake each day and not taking them off until 10 or 11 each night, so I apologize for neglecting you, dear readers.

Finally, at about 4pm on Christmas Eve, the lines at Target were enough to cause me to see the light:  The children really didn’t need any more goodies in their stockings or gifts under the tree — by the time the celebrating was through, we’d all have lost count of how many packages were unwrapped and there would be more new toys and games to play with than could be done in a day. Enough.

But what I really want to share here is the joy it brings me to give gifts. I pride myself on being a thoughtful gift giver, and I think my loved ones would say I do pretty well. It’s especially fun to consider and buy for someone new in one’s life, and I’ve already written how allowing my beau to open one of his gifts early earned me some points.

And receiving gifts allows us to see ourselves through another’s eyes. By way of explaining, let me tell you that my wardrobe is chock full of the same black items. I’ll see something at the store, try it on and love it — because I’ve had success with something incredibly similar before, whether it’s the cut of my trousers or the draped neckline of a top. So I can’t tell you what a delight it’s been to receive a few new pieces to add to my wardrobe this Christmas. My special guy clearly sees me in a more colorful and versatile way than I’ve been seeing myself. What a nice discovery! Plus I’ve been getting an awful lot of compliments.

A colorful new me? He may be on to something.

too much

I’m one of those women who do too much. I seem to recall a book by that title several years ago. I haven’t read it, but I have an inkling about what might be inside.

True, I bring much of it on myself. In addition to working full-time and parenting 85% of the time, I’m busy planning a dish for the holiday potluck at work this week, addressing somewhere in the neighborhood of 100 holiday cards, shopping and wrapping gifts, and trying to keep up with the usual chores. I’ve spent the weekend baking three different types of cookies, corralling the children to cut shapes from the dough and, later, to frost, ice, sprinkle, dip and otherwise decorate the cookies that will become gifts for their teachers. This afternoon, we put together little bags and trudged throughout the neighborhood, delivering sweets and cards to neighborhood friends.

I know full well that, as a single woman, I am not expected to send cards, bake cookies or bring a homemade dish for the potluck. I could skip out on a good share of the “extras” I assign myself, yet it would be hard to let go. I have an extended family who I see rarely. Sending a card and photos once a year seems the least I could do in an attempt to stay in touch.

Like so many people my age, I grew up with a stay-at-home mother. She kept a clean home, made healthy, well-balanced meals, decorated a fresh fir-tree each year and baked cookies and such. Those experiences I didn’t get at home, I acquired through community — cookie baking events, crafts and more. While I’ve chosen to parent differently in many ways, I recall many of my childhood events fondly and want to create similar traditions with my own children.

So, while I am beyond wiped out after a busy weekend, it’s balanced by a sense of motherly accomplishment and peace. No one is likely to compare me to Martha, either, but it’s nice to have a few shining domestic moments.

rising through the ranks

I must have done something right last weekend, because my guy said I improved my BCS standings with him. (BCS, for those of you who don’t watch college football — like myself — stands for Bowl Championship Series, which is the cockamamie way in which the NCAA determines a national champion team. Don’t ask.)

It all began with a small gesture:  an early Christmas gift with which I presented him, thinking we could enjoy it together while relaxing around the house. It was one of those conversation-starter card sets for couples that you get at fancy gift stores for what you know is an outrageous profit based on the bit of acrylic and printed paper that goes in to these suckers. At any rate, it was well worth the quality time shared talking over questions and hypothetical scenarios because it allowed us to do his favorite thing — talk and share and listen.

We got to know each other a bit better — and I guess it scored me some points, too!

flinching

I started writing this post well over a month ago:

Every so often, I still catch myself in that contracted state of responding from a place of fear or lack, as though I’m in a full-on life flinch, constantly anticipating another of life’s right hooks. And then, moments later, when I realize what I’m doing, that the proverbial perceived threat was only imagined, I relax and wonder at this baffling behavior…

Often this realization hits me while doing the most mundane of all activities, such as grocery shopping. I’ll neglect to buy ingredients for some fabulous meal I’d love to make because my children wouldn’t appreciate it, or it’s too much work for just one, or for some other reason that ends up sounding much more like an excuse. Banal example though it may be, it’s symptomatic of the recent phase in my life spent focused so much on making others happy that I’d forgotten to take care of myself.

Sometimes this divorce-recovery stuff seems like a slow climb out of the bomb shelter. Imagine me stepping up and out cautiously, feeling a bit leery, eyes squinting against the brightness of daylight.

Today, I can happily report that I bought old favorites like Brussels sprouts and Swiss chard and more while grocery shopping. I intend to make the foods I like and, if my children won’t eat them, I’ll take the leftovers to work. I also enlisted some help and cleaned a bunch of junk out of the garage. For the first time in nearly a decade, I can actually park my car in it!

In other words, I’ve successfully taken another leap or two in relaxing into this new position of President and CEO of my own life.

 

about the children

The other night, I held my phone out at arm’s length and snapped a photo of me and my daughter enjoying dinner out. I posted this photo on Facebook, checking in at the restaurant we frequent. Then I messaged the photo to my guy. I didn’t think twice about it.

I’ve had my guy over to my house, he’s seen photos of my children and listened to my stories about them. But that was the first time I’d sent him a photo that included one of my children. And it kicked off (again) the whole discussion about when it’s appropriate for him to meet the children. Sure, we’ve talked about it…

Early on in a relationship, most responsible women don’t introduce men to their children for several reasons, which (just off the top of my head) include these:

  • They barely know the guy and want to be sure — let’s be honest about this — that he’s not some creepy pedophile who’s going to prey on her children.
  • They don’t want their children to see a revolving door of men coming in and out of their lives.
  • They want to step into the fantasy world of dating without children.

While the first of these needs no explanation nor commentary (and I’m confident my guy is a pure soul), let’s further explore these other reasons.

I’d hate to allow my children to become attached to a man who I’m not certain will be in my life for good. Divorce, I’m sure, was hard enough and I’d hate for them to go through something like that again.

Then again, I’m pretty open with my children. I’ve talked to them about dating, and they know I have a boyfriend. We’ve talked about whether they should meet him, and they know I haven’t decided yet whether to introduce them anytime soon. You see, I think it’s important that my children know that decision-making is a process, that I don’t always or automatically know the right answer, that some things are worth deliberation and discussion. An early conversation included these observations:

Eight-year-old:  “He should like to play football and go sledding.”

Ten-year-old:  “I’m going to give him a quiz, like his favorite food and color and stuff. And preferably he won’t be blond.”

Another of our conversations went something like this:

Me:  “I’d hate for you to get attached to someone I’m seeing, because then what if we broke up?”

Eight-year-old:  “Well, maybe he could come and play with us sometimes anyway.”

Ten-year-old:  “That would be awkward.”

Conventional wisdom says that we shouldn’t introduce a man to our children until we know it’s going to grow into commitment. If not, they’ll see a “revolving door” of men and develop beliefs about that — e.g. men leave, or Mom gets tired of men and kicks them out, or some such. Furthermore, in the event that things don’t work out, I don’t want the breakup to be harder than it might otherwise be, because he’s attached to my children or they’re attached to him.

I recently read a book (by a man) who suggested the opposite is the proper approach for men. He opined that women should introduce a man to her children early on, because a man needs to see the whole package so that he can envision himself as a provider and man of the family before deciding whether to stick around.

My children are resilient and, while I want to spare them heartache and pain in every possible way, I genuinely believe they can handle meeting someone with whom I’m spending time, as long as it’s in a casual environment, their meetings are few and far between, and we keep the dialogue going. But there’s more to the decision than that:

Right now, I get to date and spend time with my guy on weekends when my children are with their father. At those times, it’s almost as though I’m young and single — it’s romantic and exciting and fun. How will that change if I introduce the children? When he comes over to pick me up for a date, will they try to persuade him (us) to stay home and play a board game instead? Would he be tempted to relent to their pressure to win them over? In other words, for purely selfish reasons, I’d like to prolong this “just the two of us” period. I’m not sure how the dynamic might change if my children meet my boyfriend, I’m only certain that it will.

So, while I’d love to include my beau in my family’s holiday activities — that would definitely give him a view to what he’d be getting in to — we’ve decided to wait to introduce him to the children until we figure out our own relationship first.