Mawage

Mawage. Mawage is wot bwings us togeder tooday. Mawage, that bwessed awangment, that dweam wifin a dweam...
And wuv, tru wuv, will fowow you foweva...
So tweasure your wuv.
-Clergymen from The Princess Bride

In todays realm the American image of marriage is a difficult imbalance of healthiness especially, amongst the whispers of feminism and 50 Shades of Grey clashing with the ideal woman. Be strong and independent. Be sexy and horny. Mix in an instinct of nurturer and gather and a very confused woman manifests. Add a husband and some kids and there is some real potential for a dysfunctional family.

My husband and I just celebrated our 6th anniversary, which was, well... just okay. We returned to the Smoky Mountains that harbors our small wedding chapel. It was a rainy for the majority of our stay. A fact that could have been overlooked, however my husband and daughter both had runny noses with sore throats. Suffice to say, most of our time was spent inside trying to remain cordial with one another. It was not miserable, feeling remorseful for my husband's health, but it will probably not be a weekend to remember.

These past 19 months have been a constant adjustment as parents and as a married couple. I want to play super woman pretending I can do it all, but by the time my husband returns from work I do not want to lavish him in kisses because I miss him. I want to hand over the little monster so I can get dinner started. By the time it is bedtime for my daughter I should be relishing for intimate time with my husband, but I am hoping he is too tired so I can tackle my incomplete chores in the wee hours of the night. On weekends, my husband I and love nap time allowing us to work together or apart outside.

I want to feel ashamed for this lack of affection then I talk to other women/mothers/wives and understand I am not all that strange. Other women struggle with intimacy, moodiness, and contempt. We still recognize our love and thankfulness for our husbands, yet there is this inner conflict, a tug-of-war, between attempting to be a good mom and an emotional strung out wife. Our husbands should always come first, but they are always last. The interaction a married couple have is usually towards the end of the day. The wife is emotionally spent. The husband is left to relate with her leftover remnants. It is hardly fair, but what else does she have to offer?

Honestly, I wish all women/mothers made homemaking their profession and lived in a commune. The mothers would have total authority and responsibility of their child's rearing. Living in community everyone shares in the mental stability. Even I who stay at home need a break. I could ask another mother, "I need two hours to myself. Can you cover Lucy? I'll trade with you tomorrow." Also by living in community, I can watch the more experienced moms learning their tactics. What works and what does not.

Instead, I think I am Supermom. But I'm not. How many times has someone offered to watch Lucy for me? I worry she might cause a ruckus. How many times have I offered to watch other parents' kids? I think they worry their kids would overwhelm me.

I look at some moms and I can instantly recognize who is seamlessly designed for motherhood. Their role as a mother is effortless parenting like a work of art in motion. Four, five, six. The number of children does not matter. They know how to discipline. They know how to adjust for circumstances. They know how to encourage and quick to react lovely in every action. And the relationship with their husband reflects the same harmony. I can almost immediately discern who has a selfless marriage by the mother's temperament towards her children.

Then there are the moms who appear completely deflated overwhelmed by whining screaming demands. The inner struggle can be seen as lifelessness in their eyes desperate for an indefinite intermission. They are worn and dried up tired of wearing a fake smile. Seeing the hurt and discouragement draws attention towards the suffering marriage.

I do not want to be a hallow form hoping for the day to end. Especially after only one kid. My main objective should be to serve my husband. He needs to be first. All the the family counselors will agree the couple is the core. If the marriage is healthy and joy binds the couple together the family as a whole is tightly bond. Want good kids? Make sure you are happy with your husband.

I looked through the camera to load photos for this post and I found two photos of just my husband and me. One shot accidentally cropped out my daughter. So one intentional photo of my husband and I for an entire year. I am not sure we even look happy. More like a defeated simper. We are selfish creatures. We focus on ourselves and our problems and our accomplishments. When we become boggled down we forget we are a team. We are not living for ourselves. We are living for each other. A cohesive tool stronger together than apart. My husband enhances me and I enhance him.

I could say I really need to try to make my marriage better for the sake of my daughter. But that would be my first mistake. I have been blessed with an awesome man who treasures me, is devoted to me, and loves me flaws and all. There are not enough words to describe the wonderful qualities of my husband. Our biggest hinderance is good communication. Our greatest asset is working together. We adore one another and our daughter is the product of that love. We are two imperfect humans learning every day. I pray the commitment and patience never runs dry because I am looking forward to growing old with my husband. Sitting on the porch swing arguing who has the best memory or where I left my teeth. We will walk laps around the farm poking fun at one another as we hold hands telling stories we have heard before a hundred time.

Most marriages do not end with a sunset complimented with a blissful kiss. There are chapters of good times and bad. My husband is my perfect match a fact I never want to take for granted. Purposeful effort is required. Truthful intent must be practiced. We are our daughter's closest example of enduring love. In a world full of divorce and substitutes she needs to believe steadfastness with joy is possible.

The journey

Today I dropped off my husband at the airport. He is traveling to Tokyo and then to Singapore. I six day journey with nearly four days of travel time. My husband wished me a good week and regret I cannot join him, but I am far from disappointment. The idea of twenty-fours hours spent on a plane with a 19 month old is hardly my idea of a good time. Six hours returning from Alaska might have caused me to loose my sanity as I hung my head in shame because of an inconsolable child. Though my daughter was well behaved flying to Alaska it was stressful making sure I was adequately prepared. Did I have enough diapers and wipes? Did I pack enough food, much less food she would like? Did I bring the right toys to keep her entertained during travel? So 24 hours of air time? No thank you.

Now, this mentality is strange for me because in college I had great aspirations of becoming a world traveler as a photojournalist. Of course, National Geographic had an influence, but being a contract photographer had its appeal as well. I would go anywhere for any amount of time constantly looking for cheap last minute flights ready to go in a moments notice. Needless to say my window of opportunity never opened or maybe I did not have the "right stuff." Instead I made compromises and new strategies and probably even settled. A whole new coarse was developed and now I am a stay-at-home mom.

Any regret? Absolutely not. I love my daughter and I love being the one she relays on for guidance and support. To me it is a very important job where I feel very honored to be graced with an amazing child and a wonderful husband who can provide for us.

The moment my husband learned about his opportunity to fly to Asia he spent three weeks in a flurry of excitement and preparation. He devoted hours researching Japanese customs and Singapore's rules. Particularly Singapore, worried he would wind up arrested for not having his shoes tied correctly or his hair parted the wrong direction. The night before his flight he could hardly sleep.

I totally understand his thrill. I went 48 hours without sleep on my way to Europe from the anticipation. I am happy for my husband having this opportunity to branch out past the U.S. borders. It makes me smirk seeing him full of wonder and butterflies. How many times has he asked me what I want as a souvenir? I truly hope he has an unforgettable trip.

Yet, there is this weird feeling inside me. It is not that I am jealous my husband is traveling without me. I am fairly certain it is not that I will be alone. It is not resentment towards my daughter as if she is holding me back. I am not thinking those thoughts at all. I do not want to travel long distance for a short period of time. I do not want to be crammed in a plane with other disease infested people. I do not want to worry about managing my way in a foreign country hoping not to get robbed. I do not even want to travel without my daughter.

What is wrong with me?!?!? This is not how I use to think. How many abandon warehouses have I trespassed? How many homeless have I assisted, including offering a ride? How many roads have I roamed long before ever owning a cell phone? Now all I can think of is the safety and wellbeing of my daughter.

That weird feeling inside is me wondering why I am not be ready to jump on a plane. Why have I allowed my passport to expire? Why I am not ready to drag my daughter anywhere I want to go?

The only answer I think is feasible is, my daughter comes first and, honestly, I am okay with that. I do not need to worry that I have changed. I have not lost my adventurous spirit. I look at my daughter as someone to share the adventures. I think I realize eventually she will be old enough to travel farther distances, strong enough to keep up with mommy, bold enough to attempt new heights. I am not settling, but rather preparing her for the journey. One day we will go to Europe then to Israel and hopefully to New Zealand and so forth. It does not matter if this comes to fruition or not. I may not be the great world traveler. I am content with who I am. If the Lord chooses to bless me with more foreign travel, especially for educational purposes for my daughter, I will gladly accept. Until then, I have a daughter to raise and hopefully perk her interests for the world around her.

Tricking and Treating

I do not know if I am getting older or severely out of touch, but when I was a kid I celebrated Halloween once in my classroom at school and on Halloween night. ( I think if Halloween fell on a Sunday Trick or Treating was practiced on Saturday night.) Now because of the Trunk or Treats from churches and schools and fire departments and whoever else a kid can bank on a hefty stash of candy prior to Halloween night. Like all the other holidays Halloween has gone beyond commercialized.

Because I grew up on a country road with few neighbors in between, my sister and I would meet up with our cousins at our grandparents' house for Trick or Treating. Typically, there was a meal and we always got a late start. My granny had this old family kitchen table with the pedestal cut down to serve as a coffee table. At the table we performed last minute make-up and after our treating was completed where we sorted our candy. There were neighbors known for their scary houses. Approaching the house carefully we would keep our guard up looking for anything suspicious, but ultimately we were scared silly. We tricked in rain, snow, and muggy nights. It was a dedicated tradition.

Then about the age of 10 my parents moved us to a newly developing neighborhood with few kids, which made for unsatisfactory treating. Of course as I and the cousins got too old to Trick or Treat we abandon our grandparents' neighborhood and I probably have not dressed up for the holiday since I was twelve.

As a Christian I have wondered about the sanctity of celebrating All Hallows Eve. My parents struggled with the issue as well. One year as a child we celebrated Halloween at church. I dressed as Esther. There are few options for female biblical characters. Now I am confronted what to do with my daughter.

I am leaning towards the thought that Halloween is fun. It is by choice to transform it into something evil. Halloween is a chance to dress up as someone other than ourselves. The character does not have to be scary or evil. How many Olafs and Elsas did I pass on the streets? Halloween can be a night to feel beautiful and majestic or powerful and dangerous. To live out a dream or fantasy and not worry about the criticism. Then to have complete strangers admire your character is the best complement of all.

Last Halloween when Lucy was 7 months old we skipped Trick or Treating, mostly because there was freezing rain. This year I have encouraged Lucy to be more active. I bought a Bee costume at a children's consignment store along with a crown and scepter hailing her the Queen Bee. My husband brought home a hardhat then I bought two fabric flowers to attach to the hardhat acting as my feelers along with buying wings declaring myself as the worker bee. The husband was to dress as the beekeeper, but he backed out at the last minute.

Forget the idea mommy and daddy get candy that a 19 month old should not eat. Forget my daughter really cannot say 'Trick or Treat.' (It sounds more like "Tree Tree.) Imagine instead how much fun we are having. It has been fun hearing Lucy say 'Please' with a sign for candy. It has been fun watching her waltz around the house with purple wings. It has been fun seeing her enjoyment from glow sticks whether as a wand or bracelet or necklace. It has been fun watching her new found independence walking to explore the Halloween decorations. It has even been fun washing the candy off her face and sticky fingers.

Every day Lucy is growing stronger with walking so it is a delight to see her participate in this season on two feet. It is my plan to take full advantage of this holiday. We have enjoyed festivities during Storytime at the library, our downtown center square, the local feed supply store, and the community center. When you are as cute as Lucy is it is important to show her off. Not to mention I have been trigger happy with my camera capturing all the wonderful expressions and memories.