Wow...It's been a long time since I've written a blog entry. I guess it's never too late to pick up where I left off, though.
This past year has been a blur. In June, Lucas and I made the familiar trek back to Tennessee, except in August when the time came to return to Norfolk, I stayed in Tennessee. I will never forget the look on Lucas' face when I pulled out of his parents' driveway to go to work the day he left for Virginia. It was brutal - teary-eyed and angry, the way a three year old looks after waking from a nap only to see the sitter instead of his mom. I spent the next several months engulfed in school work and running every night in preparation for the half marathon I would run in October. While running at night, I would blast "The Cave" by Mumford and Sons and pick up my pace to the line "but I will hold on hope and I won't let you choke on the noose around your neck and I'll find strength in pain and I will change my ways I'll know my name as it's called again." I used these word to develop my mantra. "You can do this. You will survive. This will make you stronger." Somehow this made the tears and hurt subside.
Lucas and I managed to see each other at least once a month. We spent major holidays, birthdays, and our anniversary together...even if they were a few days after the fact. We talked on the phone pretty much every day. We kept up on the big events in each others' careers and daily lives. We held each other when we were together. We fought when it seemed appropriate to fight, because we knew the importance of "keeping it real." We grew comfortable in our separation, and we got upset when our separation felt too comfortable. But...we made it. And in a few days, our separation ends.
*********************************************************************************
Sometimes I wonder how I became an artist. I was raised in a family that worked hard - physically. One of my earliest memories is carrying a large basket of corn from our big garden to our house. I was bare foot and stepped on a bee by our grape vines. After dropping the corn and screaming, my parents ran to me, scooped me up, and plopped my swollen foot into a tub of warm water and bouillon cubes. My mother hushed my tears and reminded me that my pain was temporary. The Davis family prided itself on strength - of the physical and emotional nature. Somehow, in that mentality, I saw my mother create a beautiful home for us with little money and a large imagination. I saw my father hunt deer with a precision I will never understand. His tracking skills and respect for his kill have always been magical and somehow completely compassionate. Despite their blue collared persona, my parents were visionaries and dreamers. And through that, they produced an actress and a dancer - a visionary and a dreamer. Artists.
I always knew I would marry an artist. I just didn't realize how MUCH of an artist I would fall in love with. I didn't realize that the artist I would marry would spend the majority of his time laughing at the words on a page of a book I didn't care anything about. I didn't realize that my artist would spend countless hours stressing about one sentence that didn't quite fit among hundreds of other sentences. I didn't realize that bills and taxes and employment would take the back seat to a short story. I didn't realize that my artist's love for writing would make me question my love for dance. I never expected to feel jealous of my artist's art.
Lucas is not normal. He is the most difficult human being I have ever met...besides myself. That is why we work. Only I would sit through countless rants about "making it as a writer." And only Lucas would ask to watch my dance recitals on dvd repeatedly.
Lucas and I grew as a couple in Norfolk. We were all each other had. We would sit in our laundry room and sing songs together. Contemplate cleaning, and decide to watch a marathon of Netflix t.v. reruns instead. We drove each other to work. We picked each other up from class. He carried my bags to the car at midnight when I returned home from a weekend of EVMS work. I accompanied him to readings at Borjo coffee house. He quizzed me for Bio tests and I proof read his workshop pieces. I changed his flat tire and he held my hair back when I was sick. When I felt like quitting, he said "do it." And when I changed my mind, he supported me.
Marriage is no easy feat. Marry a man you've known your whole life, but dated for only a year - and you're next to crazy. But what artist isn't a little crazy? Just look at Van Gogh. (Lucas and I still have both our ears at least.) Marry a man you're madly in love with, and you'll find a kindred spirit in me. If you listen to Lucas and I talk on the phone, you'll probably think - man, they bicker a whole bunch. Listen to Lucas and I talk on the phone, and you'll also probably think - man, they talk to each other honestly. Lucas and I have the best impossible relationship ever.
I am so excited to get my love back home with me. I need my husband. He makes me who I am. The past nine months have been rough, but educational. They've tested us, most definitely. They've made us stronger, as I'd hoped they would. But I'm so glad they're over.
Welcome home, sweetheart.
(Here is the song we used to sing together....La Mar by The Beautiful Girls)
http://youtu.be/h9Me4KIiPLU
Monday, April 29, 2013
Thursday, April 19, 2012
Abby Lee Miller, Eat Your Heart Out
It's April, and 'tis the season for dance. To say that my life has been consumed by dance this month is an understatement. My brain - the frontal, parietal, occipital, and temporal lobes (shout out to A&P) - hurts. I am currently choreographing thirteen, fourteen,...well, I lost count...pieces. They kind of just keep accumulating. Do I love it? Most of the time. Do I loathe it? Most of the time. Are all my pieces starting to look alike? Yup. Who needs genres of dance? Ballet and Jazz are virtually the same thing, right? And, by the way, I am choreographing to, like, three dubstep songs. Because I'm awesome. (OK. I caved and basically let my kids pick the songs. Honestly, I ran out of ideas and inspiration.) If you're unfamiliar with dubstep (Mom), allow me to educate you. You'll hate it.
http://www.zshare.net/audio/869135109dd1259c/
In related news, I attended my first dance competition a few weeks ago. My preteens competed with a Modern routine. Of course, it's not called Modern anymore; it's "CONTEMPORARY." Wah, wah. Martha is rolling in her grave. Needless to say, they placed fourth in their category/division and received a high gold star. I'm still not sure what all this really means, but I've been told that it's excellent considering this was the first time they ever competed. To be completely honest, I have always hated dance competitions. In my opinion, dance is a fine art, not a sport. Needless to say, I kinda enjoyed the experience. Sure, there were some rather intense dance instructors lurking in the corridors of the Sandler Center, but I managed to avoid them. One of them called me sweetie, when I asked her a question. I reckon she could tell I was a novice "coach." Once she answered my question, I recoiled from her quickly as not to get sucked into her world: A world of gold stars and Mia Michaels look-a-like routines. I did follow suit, however, and stay with my girls backstage. No way was I going to leave my six precious babies with those harpies. Like the lame mom who makes her seven year use a car seat, instead of waiting in the wings, I insisted my kids stay in the waiting area connected to backstage until the last possible minute. I also gave them the death glare anytime they opened their mouths. They were to act and speak with dignity at all times. Because I know twelve year olds are pretty much incapable of doing so, I preferred they just not talk at all. I also clung to them. To tell the truth, having them put on display like that worried me. I wanted to let them know they were loved and special before three random people judged them. I only saw a little bit of their performance from my perch backstage, but what I saw pleased me. They acted like little professionals. OK. Fine. They were AWESOME. I teared up a bit...and I hugged the crap outta them when they came off stage. Once I stopped shaking, I asked them if they had fun. They all smiled and said "yes." And that made the experience worth it. It was like being a parent who finds out her kid loves participating in RPG tournaments. I found it absurd, but thrilled that they found something they truly enjoyed. (Can you tell I am attached to my dancers?)
We compete again in May, as do my teens. They are performing a Jazz routine to "Sail" by AWOLNATION. They get straight jackets and a padded wall. They're excited. Perhaps we'll get platinum this time? Sweet...
Yup...lamest blog entry ever. But truthfully, that's all I got. I am consumed by dance. I guess it's a good thing I love it.
http://www.zshare.net/audio/869135109dd1259c/
In related news, I attended my first dance competition a few weeks ago. My preteens competed with a Modern routine. Of course, it's not called Modern anymore; it's "CONTEMPORARY." Wah, wah. Martha is rolling in her grave. Needless to say, they placed fourth in their category/division and received a high gold star. I'm still not sure what all this really means, but I've been told that it's excellent considering this was the first time they ever competed. To be completely honest, I have always hated dance competitions. In my opinion, dance is a fine art, not a sport. Needless to say, I kinda enjoyed the experience. Sure, there were some rather intense dance instructors lurking in the corridors of the Sandler Center, but I managed to avoid them. One of them called me sweetie, when I asked her a question. I reckon she could tell I was a novice "coach." Once she answered my question, I recoiled from her quickly as not to get sucked into her world: A world of gold stars and Mia Michaels look-a-like routines. I did follow suit, however, and stay with my girls backstage. No way was I going to leave my six precious babies with those harpies. Like the lame mom who makes her seven year use a car seat, instead of waiting in the wings, I insisted my kids stay in the waiting area connected to backstage until the last possible minute. I also gave them the death glare anytime they opened their mouths. They were to act and speak with dignity at all times. Because I know twelve year olds are pretty much incapable of doing so, I preferred they just not talk at all. I also clung to them. To tell the truth, having them put on display like that worried me. I wanted to let them know they were loved and special before three random people judged them. I only saw a little bit of their performance from my perch backstage, but what I saw pleased me. They acted like little professionals. OK. Fine. They were AWESOME. I teared up a bit...and I hugged the crap outta them when they came off stage. Once I stopped shaking, I asked them if they had fun. They all smiled and said "yes." And that made the experience worth it. It was like being a parent who finds out her kid loves participating in RPG tournaments. I found it absurd, but thrilled that they found something they truly enjoyed. (Can you tell I am attached to my dancers?)
We compete again in May, as do my teens. They are performing a Jazz routine to "Sail" by AWOLNATION. They get straight jackets and a padded wall. They're excited. Perhaps we'll get platinum this time? Sweet...
Yup...lamest blog entry ever. But truthfully, that's all I got. I am consumed by dance. I guess it's a good thing I love it.
Thursday, March 1, 2012
It's Not February Anymore...
Well, I've already failed at my LIST duties! Even with an extra day, I couldn't manage to write my February blog on time. Looks like you'll be hearing from me twice in March to compensate.
That said, I cannot believe it is already March. Time sure does fly when you're in school, working, and attempting to run a household. A lot happened in February, some of which I am (unfortunately) not at liberty to discuss right now. Let's just say my LIST will have to be re-vamped soon to accommodate our changing lives here in Norfolk. (Let me kill the suspense. I am not pregnant. Trust me, you'll know when I am as I intend to rent billboards across the U.S. announcing it someday. Think 2015. Can you wait until then?)
February was a month of pleasant surprises and challenges. Our house has been in a constant state of disarray, because neither one of us really has the time or energy to do anything about it. Plus, we're slobs at heart, so unless we're expecting company, you won't find me scrubbing anything and Lucas is afraid of cleaning products.
Speaking of company, we found out in February that my mom, sister, and niece will be stopping in Norfolk at the end of March for their very first visit to a real, live ghetto (our neighborhood). This means I will be spending the week prior to their visit fumigating our house. I might have to send Lucas to stay with some friends that week, so that my efforts to clean the house aren't in vain. No, seriously. I married Pig Pen. The man can walk across a freshly swept floor and destroy all evidence of its cleanliness.
Speaking of debris and junk (?) - I am in the market for a new car. Yep, I am currently speaking with Hampton Roads junk yards in an attempt to get a few hundred bucks for the Beetle. Then, with my savings and our tax return, I plan on making a down payment. I would like a four door, hatchback that is easily fixed. No bells or whistles required. That said, I will never drive a Volkswagen EVER again. It was cute and fun, but dear heavenly father did it cost a ton to fix. My price maximum is $15,000. Any suggestions?
In terms of classes, they're going well. Anatomy and Phys. is tough, but I'm fighting right through it. Now I can identify the muscles that hurt at the end of a long night of dance classes. For some reason, saying "My latissimus dorsi is on fire! Those Ailey tilts really did a number on them!" isn't as annoying as simply complaining about my "aching back."
Lucas is also trucking along and the cat and dog have decided our heaping pile of laundry is a fun spot to snooze. So, all-in-all, we're doing just fine and dandy. Stay tuned!
That said, I cannot believe it is already March. Time sure does fly when you're in school, working, and attempting to run a household. A lot happened in February, some of which I am (unfortunately) not at liberty to discuss right now. Let's just say my LIST will have to be re-vamped soon to accommodate our changing lives here in Norfolk. (Let me kill the suspense. I am not pregnant. Trust me, you'll know when I am as I intend to rent billboards across the U.S. announcing it someday. Think 2015. Can you wait until then?)
February was a month of pleasant surprises and challenges. Our house has been in a constant state of disarray, because neither one of us really has the time or energy to do anything about it. Plus, we're slobs at heart, so unless we're expecting company, you won't find me scrubbing anything and Lucas is afraid of cleaning products.
Speaking of company, we found out in February that my mom, sister, and niece will be stopping in Norfolk at the end of March for their very first visit to a real, live ghetto (our neighborhood). This means I will be spending the week prior to their visit fumigating our house. I might have to send Lucas to stay with some friends that week, so that my efforts to clean the house aren't in vain. No, seriously. I married Pig Pen. The man can walk across a freshly swept floor and destroy all evidence of its cleanliness.
Speaking of debris and junk (?) - I am in the market for a new car. Yep, I am currently speaking with Hampton Roads junk yards in an attempt to get a few hundred bucks for the Beetle. Then, with my savings and our tax return, I plan on making a down payment. I would like a four door, hatchback that is easily fixed. No bells or whistles required. That said, I will never drive a Volkswagen EVER again. It was cute and fun, but dear heavenly father did it cost a ton to fix. My price maximum is $15,000. Any suggestions?
In terms of classes, they're going well. Anatomy and Phys. is tough, but I'm fighting right through it. Now I can identify the muscles that hurt at the end of a long night of dance classes. For some reason, saying "My latissimus dorsi is on fire! Those Ailey tilts really did a number on them!" isn't as annoying as simply complaining about my "aching back."
Lucas is also trucking along and the cat and dog have decided our heaping pile of laundry is a fun spot to snooze. So, all-in-all, we're doing just fine and dandy. Stay tuned!
Thursday, January 5, 2012
Day Zero Project
As if I didn't already have a full plate, I've decided to start my very own Day Zero Project, because the over-achieving, needs gold stars and the feeling of accomplishment side of me has spoken. Inspired by my cousin Jennie, who I believe shares my desire for success and a nice, clean check list, I have decided to begin my 101 tasks on January 1, 2012. This means I have 1001 days to complete them, making my completion date September 28, 2014. So, without further adieu, here's my list.
Incomplete
Complete
In progress
For Others
Teach Lucas how to drive a stick shift
Help Lucas organize and send his work to various publishers
Volunteer for Access Aids in Hampton Roads
Help with the production side of a dance recital
Tithe each month for the duration of the project (33 months)
Donate my hair to Locks of Love
Walk Gus once a week for the duration of the project (approx. 143 walks)
Volunteer at a soup kitchen
Let Lucas keep the toaster on the counter for a month
Act as a designated driver
Call my mother-in-law just to chat
Give Lucas a week free of chores
Walk around the neighborhood and pick up trash
Substitute for a teacher at the dance studio
Vote in the 2012 presidential election (I guess this is for myself, too.)
Donate blood
"Stand up" for someone in a difficult situation
Give Elliott fancy food every Sunday for the duration of the project
Buy Meredith her first pair of ballet slippers
Pay for a stranger's items at Bottom Dollar
Give a stranger an umbrella when it's raining
Donate non-perishable items
For Money's Sake
Buy a week's worth of groceries at a time (with no superfluous trips to the store) for two weeks in a
row
Refrain from buying gas station or Starbuck's coffee for one month
Avoid eating at fast food restaurants for three months
Pack my meals for a work trip
No buying individual serving bottles of water, soda, or juice for six months
Spend under $30/week (excluding bills) for one month
Cook all meals at home for one week
Order a meal under $12 at a nice restaurant
Make a budget that Lucas and I can both agree on
Use a coupon (Dollar off on batteries 1/4/12)
For the Future and Practical Reasons
Complete pre-rec classes
Take the GRE
Apply to Nursing Programs
Pay off 50% of my remaining undergraduate debt
Schedule an appointment with an Ob/Gyn and/or fertility specialist to make sure we're candidates for
natural conception
Move out of Hampton Roads
Replace the chipped filling on my molar
Get Lucas to see a dermatologist
Fix my camera
Have the moles on my back removed
Because I Secretly Want to be a Domestic Goddess
Re-decorate our bedroom
Professionally clean our carpet
Murphy's clean all the hardwood
Fix the couch
Buy slip covers for the couch and loveseat
Use my crockpot
Learn how to make the perfect Pad See Ew
Learn how to can food
Make my grandmother's famous chicken noodle soup (1/3/12)
Bake a tirimisu
Throw Lucas a graduation party
Take a homemade dessert or side dish to a party
For Fun
Buy a bicycle
Take a dance class
Take a hot yoga class
Read one book a month for the duration of the project (text books don't count)
Run (jog or walk) a 5K
Take a trip (large or small) with my mother to her choice destination
Use the public library 5 times
Paint a picture
Blog once a month for the duration of the project
Send snail mail (To Amy Bryne 1/5/12)
Order prime rib at a restaurant
Learn how to use Skype
Wear a pair of high heels in public
Celebrate a new year in Nashville with Sam and Parisa
Write a political blog entry
Choreograph a musical theater piece
Change my tragus piercing on my 28th birthday
Change my rook piercing
Go without make-up for a week
Take a picture every day for a month
Write Ellen Degeneres a letter
As a Couple
Go to a concert
Go see the Nutcracker Ballet
Go to the beach at least 10 times during the summer of 2012
Make a trip to Baltimore
Get pizza and gelatto at YNot Pizza in Ghent
Purge the house
Plan our weekly meals (and stick to the plan) at least 5 times
Play catch
Go to a Tide's game
Make brunch
Break a habit (doesn't have to be the same one)
Write our Christmas Newsletter for 2012
Write our Christmas Newsletter for 2013
Visit a new place
Watch Travis in a show at SCAD
Establish and stick to a bed time/wake-up time for one week
Eat dinner before seven o'clock for an entire week
Meditate
Because I'm a Little Crazy
Do 100 crunches every day for two weeks
Refrain from yelling at Lucas for keeping the cabinets open, then leave them open
Watch the sunrise on the beach
Say "yes" when I really want to say "no"
Say "no" when I really want to say "yes"
Suggest and participate in a teacher's dance at the studio
Learn how to do an axel turn (Yeah, I still can't do one very well.)
Sing a duet with Lucas in front of people
Incomplete
In progress
For Others
Teach Lucas how to drive a stick shift
Help Lucas organize and send his work to various publishers
Volunteer for Access Aids in Hampton Roads
Help with the production side of a dance recital
Tithe each month for the duration of the project (33 months)
Donate my hair to Locks of Love
Walk Gus once a week for the duration of the project (approx. 143 walks)
Volunteer at a soup kitchen
Let Lucas keep the toaster on the counter for a month
Call my mother-in-law just to chat
Walk around the neighborhood and pick up trash
Vote in the 2012 presidential election (I guess this is for myself, too.)
Donate blood
"Stand up" for someone in a difficult situation
Give Elliott fancy food every Sunday for the duration of the project
Buy Meredith her first pair of ballet slippers
Pay for a stranger's items at Bottom Dollar
Give a stranger an umbrella when it's raining
Donate non-perishable items
For Money's Sake
Buy a week's worth of groceries at a time (with no superfluous trips to the store) for two weeks in a
row
Avoid eating at fast food restaurants for three months
No buying individual serving bottles of water, soda, or juice for six months
Spend under $30/week (excluding bills) for one month
Cook all meals at home for one week
Make a budget that Lucas and I can both agree on
For the Future and Practical Reasons
Complete pre-rec classes
Take the GRE
Apply to Nursing Programs
Pay off 50% of my remaining undergraduate debt
Schedule an appointment with an Ob/Gyn and/or fertility specialist to make sure we're candidates for
natural conception
Move out of Hampton Roads
Get Lucas to see a dermatologist
Fix my camera
Have the moles on my back removed
Because I Secretly Want to be a Domestic Goddess
Re-decorate our bedroom
Professionally clean our carpet
Murphy's clean all the hardwood
Fix the couch
Buy slip covers for the couch and loveseat
Use my crockpot
Learn how to make the perfect Pad See Ew
Learn how to can food
Bake a tirimisu
Throw Lucas a graduation party
Take a homemade dessert or side dish to a party
For Fun
Buy a bicycle
Take a dance class
Take a hot yoga class
Read one book a month for the duration of the project (text books don't count)
Run (jog or walk) a 5K
Take a trip (large or small) with my mother to her choice destination
Use the public library 5 times
Paint a picture
Blog once a month for the duration of the project
Order prime rib at a restaurant
Learn how to use Skype
Celebrate a new year in Nashville with Sam and Parisa
Write a political blog entry
Choreograph a musical theater piece
Change my tragus piercing on my 28th birthday
Change my rook piercing
Go without make-up for a week
Take a picture every day for a month
Write Ellen Degeneres a letter
As a Couple
Go to a concert
Go see the Nutcracker Ballet
Go to the beach at least 10 times during the summer of 2012
Purge the house
Plan our weekly meals (and stick to the plan) at least 5 times
Play catch
Go to a Tide's game
Make brunch
Write our Christmas Newsletter for 2012
Write our Christmas Newsletter for 2013
Visit a new place
Watch Travis in a show at SCAD
Establish and stick to a bed time/wake-up time for one week
Eat dinner before seven o'clock for an entire week
Meditate
Because I'm a Little Crazy
Do 100 crunches every day for two weeks
Refrain from yelling at Lucas for keeping the cabinets open, then leave them open
Watch the sunrise on the beach
Say "yes" when I really want to say "no"
Suggest and participate in a teacher's dance at the studio
Learn how to do an axel turn (Yeah, I still can't do one very well.)
Sing a duet with Lucas in front of people
Friday, December 9, 2011
"There! Now no one will eat the d*** donut!"
Ah, yes. It's that time of year, again. In December my family gets a little crazy with the holiday fever. To say the Davis family loves Christmas is an understatement.
We LIVE for Christmas.
The entire year revolves around the season of love, hope, and joy for my family. (Seriously, it does.) My parents start saving money at the beginning of the year, so we can all head to the Great Smokey Mountains a few days before Christmas. We shop. We eat. We shop some more. We eat...waaaay too much. Most importantly, we get to spend time skipping around Gatlinburg with the people we love. For a few days, stress becomes non-existent and our hearts swell with thankfulness and pure adoration for each other. It's bliss.
Back at the home front, my parents decorate our house to the nines. No, we don't have the giant inflatable snowmen in our front yard or a plastic glowing Santa on our roof. But we do have multi-colored lights on the fence out front and candles in the windows. And we have two giant live trees: the old-fashioned tree in the dining room and the family tree in the play room. Garlands seem to have exploded everywhere. Dozens of Christmas tins are filled with yummy treats and scattered around the house. Our home smells like cookies and cinnamon for a solid month. Tradition is everywhere.
Then, there are the presents. Good grief. We goslightly alot majorly overboard.
When my sister and I were kids, we really didn't get a whole lot during the "off-season." We got what we needed, not necessarily what we wanted. If we behaved in the store, we got to walk down the toy isle and point to items we'd like Santa to bring us. We didn't get toys until Christmas...and at Christmas, we hit the mother-load. We still do. (And yes, Katie is 29 and I'm 26 and Santa still brings us presents.)
So, as you can see, Christmas is incredibly important to me. As my excitement grows as we get closer and closer to the big day, I feel more and more nostalgic. Without further adieu, here are a few of my favorite Christmas memories.
- Anyone remember this? Yep. That the Precious Places Magnet Mansion.
- John Denver and the Muppets Christmas album was and still is the bomb dot com. I don't know when my parents bought that vinyl record, because for as far back as I can remember, we've always had it. We still play it on repeat during the Christmas season. I can remember roller blading in the playroom and listening to "Christmas is coming, the goose is getting fat!" I also remember decorating our teddy bear garlands while listening to this album. I was always jealous, because Katie's were so much better than mine. At the time I didn't realize it was due to my weaker motor skills and lack of attention span. Gluing on those dang sequins was hard for a three year old. Anyway, we own the CD now, but the well-loved record still remains in our family.
- "Over the river and through the woods to Grandmother's house we go!" I loved going to my paternal grandparent's house on Christmas eve. At Thanksgiving, the cousins would draw names for Christmas presents. (I always hoped to get one of my younger cousin's names...because Uncle Don and Aunt Jill always gave the coolest presents...like my Nerf gun that I'm pretty sure they got me to torture my parents.) Furthermore, I loved seeing my grandparent's house full of familiar faces and warm embraces. We'd also go to my great-grandmother's house for a while and see the extended family. When your grandma's the oldest of twelve kids, you have quite a few cousins to mingle with.
Perhaps the best Christmas at my grandparent's house, however, was the Christmas we gave them the blueprints to their new home. My grandparents lived in a four room, half-bath house. Yep, there was no shower. The front porch was caved in...I should know...I fell through it. And Mamaw and Papaw had collected so many memories over the years, they simply had no room. So, my dad and his siblings and a host of family and friends got together to build what would be "The House That Love Built." At the time I was the youngest (so I guess the cutest by default), so my parents and aunts and uncles shoved a coiled piece of paper in my hand and my sister, cousins, and I shuffled toward my grandparent's and handed them their future. And I saw my grandparents weep for the first time in my life. And my family rejoiced on that special Christmas like we never had before.
- Christmas in Baltimore. We only made it to my mom's parents' house one Christmas. A twelve hour drive and two little kids made that trip difficult, so I'm just grateful we at least made it once. I was in the third or fourth grade and had a dumb haircut, which my mother regularly convinced me was "cute." Katie and I had half a dozen matching Christmas sweaters, which we proudly wore on that trip. To keep us busy on the car ride, Katie and I decorated stockings for my Mom-Ouise and Pop-Pop. I worried that Mom-Ouise wouldn't like hers, because I had decorated it...and Katie was a much better colorer than I. Nevertheless, she loved it. I was also nervous that year, because I wasn't sure how Santa was going to find us. He did. And he brought me a Puppy Surprise, which I'm pretty sure my grandparents found disturbing. I also remember watching an old silent movie of my momma and her family when she was a kid. My grandparents, uncles, aunts, parents, sister, cousins, and I sat in the enclosed carport and watched the film as my Uncle Dick provided commentary. That's when he dubbed himself "Uncle Hotdog," a name we still use for him. Then, he danced with my grandmother in the carport as we all watched and giggled. Mom-Ouise pretended to be embarrassed, but I know she loved it...because in many ways my mother is just like her...and so am I...and we would have loved that.
It was wonderful to experience the Clisham Christmas, even if it was just that once. Now that I live so far away from my family, I truly appreciate how special that was for my mother.
- On a lighter note....I'd like to address the great donut fiasco of 2009. It was Lucas' first Christmas with us in Gatlinburg. You have to understand, Lucas' family isn't into Christmas quite like mine is. And I apparently didn't prepare him for the merriment I expected him to have. He still felt a little uncomfortable around my family and he wasn't really sure what his role was in the whole the Davises do Gatlinburg Santa Style trip. Basically, he was over-whelmed and ready to go home almost as soon as we got there. He was a trooper for about 36 hours, but when the 37th rolled around, he was ready to split. I gave him permission to bolt, but I did so hoping he'd change his mind and stay. (Communication was especially weak at this point in our young marriage.) So, he was going to leave early on our last day there and I was going to stay and spend time with my family then drive back with my parents. Early that morning my parents invited us to get our traditional donuts at the Donut Friar. I declined, because Lucas was still asleep and I felt bad leaving him. My mom offered to bring us back donuts. She did so and asked me if I was still staying or leaving with Lucas (as tears welled up in her eyes). I cried. I cried a lot and started to resent my husband for putting me in this situation. So, like any crazed Christmas wife would, I decided to confront my husband on the issue. When I woke him, he yelled at me for waking him and stumbled out of bed fifteen minutes later. Fit to be tied, I started to eat my donut in hopes that it would calm my nerves. It did until Lucas emerged from bed, fussed at me for getting him up so early, talked about leaving, and said, "Is that a donut? Where's my donut? Here I am doing your family's Christmas thing and they can't even get me a donut?" Despite the fact that I knew Lucas is always grumpy in the morning and says thing that he doesn't mean when he first wakes up, my blood still boiled. I reached the breaking point. Ithrew hurled the donut across the room. It smacked up against the wall a few inches from Lucas' head and plopped into the garbage can. And I said, "They got you one too, you jerk! There! No one will eat the d*** donut!" I must have looked like an angry Ralphie ready to pummel Scott Farkus. Lucas looked like he's just been convicted of murder and started apologizing profusely. He dug the donut out of the trash. "Well, don't waste it," was all he could mutter.
He ate the donut. I was afforded a little more time with my parents...and a little more time with them the next year. And now we can laugh at the great donut incident of 2009. God love him. Lucas can never win.
- Rudolph de Nariz Roja! My elementary school always did ( and still does) their version of "The Nutcracker" every year. My sister was the Sugar Plum Fairy her year, and I was a Sugar Plum Fairy attendant my year. I had the best role. I got to do two dances and sit on stage throughout pretty much the entire play. No backstage boredom for me. That was all well and done, but the most memorable part of our evening on stage was the fifteen minute concert before the play in which we sang "Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer" in Spanish. For weeks I went around our house belting "Rudolph de Nariz Roja!" at the top of my little lungs. I sang it so much, in fact, I'm pretty sure Katie still knows the song in full.
- I lose things. Generally, I always find them, but still...I lose things. For years, my family was convinced that I had lost my mom's copy of the aforementioned recording of her and her family from the 50s. Well, I didn't. I have no clue what happened to that VHS tape. Honest to blog, I don't. Nevertheless, I was blamed for its disappearance for years. A few years ago, I received an especially brutal verbal beating over the missing tape by my entire family. They stopped badgering me when I started to cry and bleated out my innocence like a little lamb fighting for its life. I decided on that day that I would show them...I would show them all. So, I made a call to my aunt and uncle in Maryland, and the following Christmas I had my revenge (sort of). I told my mother her present was in the living room. I had her sit on the couch and close her eyes. Then I went to the TV and started the DVD player. She opened her eyes, and there she was as a baby, surrounded by family in a time unknown to me. And she gasped and sat in bewilderment of the footage she hadn't seen in years. Instead of feeling avenged, I felt like I had found a missing puzzle piece for my mom. It wasn't about what I did or didn't do; it was about relieving some pain for my mother, making her happy.
Well, I've written yet another novel! Nothing wrong with happy reflections, I guess. I hope that when you're reading this, some of your favorite Christmas memories come to you. Christmas is a magical, beautiful holiday, and I wish you all the best this particular year. God bless you and keep you.
We LIVE for Christmas.
The entire year revolves around the season of love, hope, and joy for my family. (Seriously, it does.) My parents start saving money at the beginning of the year, so we can all head to the Great Smokey Mountains a few days before Christmas. We shop. We eat. We shop some more. We eat...waaaay too much. Most importantly, we get to spend time skipping around Gatlinburg with the people we love. For a few days, stress becomes non-existent and our hearts swell with thankfulness and pure adoration for each other. It's bliss.
Back at the home front, my parents decorate our house to the nines. No, we don't have the giant inflatable snowmen in our front yard or a plastic glowing Santa on our roof. But we do have multi-colored lights on the fence out front and candles in the windows. And we have two giant live trees: the old-fashioned tree in the dining room and the family tree in the play room. Garlands seem to have exploded everywhere. Dozens of Christmas tins are filled with yummy treats and scattered around the house. Our home smells like cookies and cinnamon for a solid month. Tradition is everywhere.
Then, there are the presents. Good grief. We go
When my sister and I were kids, we really didn't get a whole lot during the "off-season." We got what we needed, not necessarily what we wanted. If we behaved in the store, we got to walk down the toy isle and point to items we'd like Santa to bring us. We didn't get toys until Christmas...and at Christmas, we hit the mother-load. We still do. (And yes, Katie is 29 and I'm 26 and Santa still brings us presents.)
So, as you can see, Christmas is incredibly important to me. As my excitement grows as we get closer and closer to the big day, I feel more and more nostalgic. Without further adieu, here are a few of my favorite Christmas memories.
- Anyone remember this? Yep. That the Precious Places Magnet Mansion.
This was probably one of the best (if not the best) toys Katie and I ever got. If you're not familiar with it, the PPMM came out in 1989. You used a magnetic key to turn on the lights and move the family of plastic figurines all around. They could even hobble up the stairs! This bad boy was awesome. I remember that Christmas especially well, because of this toy. (My parents also have it all on tape.) Katie and I woke up around 4 a.m. and ran into the playroom, which was pitch black with the exception of the Christmas lights and the mansion. My parents had set it up on the coffee table and turned on all its lights. We were like moths drawn to a flame. It was truly magical, and Katie and I played with that mansion for years. (Later on we got the ballet studio, horse stable, and gazebo.) I know that my sis and I will always remember our young excitement over this toy. Now that I'm grown, however, I realize the best part of receiving it was the sound of my parents' voices as they rejoiced with us and asked us what it could do (because Santa brought it) and the looks on their faces when they saw how happy we were. I know how wonderful they must have felt (even at 4 in the morning), because that's how I feel now when I watch my niece open her gifts on Christmas morning. My heart simply melts.
- John Denver and the Muppets Christmas album was and still is the bomb dot com. I don't know when my parents bought that vinyl record, because for as far back as I can remember, we've always had it. We still play it on repeat during the Christmas season. I can remember roller blading in the playroom and listening to "Christmas is coming, the goose is getting fat!" I also remember decorating our teddy bear garlands while listening to this album. I was always jealous, because Katie's were so much better than mine. At the time I didn't realize it was due to my weaker motor skills and lack of attention span. Gluing on those dang sequins was hard for a three year old. Anyway, we own the CD now, but the well-loved record still remains in our family.
- "Over the river and through the woods to Grandmother's house we go!" I loved going to my paternal grandparent's house on Christmas eve. At Thanksgiving, the cousins would draw names for Christmas presents. (I always hoped to get one of my younger cousin's names...because Uncle Don and Aunt Jill always gave the coolest presents...like my Nerf gun that I'm pretty sure they got me to torture my parents.) Furthermore, I loved seeing my grandparent's house full of familiar faces and warm embraces. We'd also go to my great-grandmother's house for a while and see the extended family. When your grandma's the oldest of twelve kids, you have quite a few cousins to mingle with.
Perhaps the best Christmas at my grandparent's house, however, was the Christmas we gave them the blueprints to their new home. My grandparents lived in a four room, half-bath house. Yep, there was no shower. The front porch was caved in...I should know...I fell through it. And Mamaw and Papaw had collected so many memories over the years, they simply had no room. So, my dad and his siblings and a host of family and friends got together to build what would be "The House That Love Built." At the time I was the youngest (so I guess the cutest by default), so my parents and aunts and uncles shoved a coiled piece of paper in my hand and my sister, cousins, and I shuffled toward my grandparent's and handed them their future. And I saw my grandparents weep for the first time in my life. And my family rejoiced on that special Christmas like we never had before.
- Christmas in Baltimore. We only made it to my mom's parents' house one Christmas. A twelve hour drive and two little kids made that trip difficult, so I'm just grateful we at least made it once. I was in the third or fourth grade and had a dumb haircut, which my mother regularly convinced me was "cute." Katie and I had half a dozen matching Christmas sweaters, which we proudly wore on that trip. To keep us busy on the car ride, Katie and I decorated stockings for my Mom-Ouise and Pop-Pop. I worried that Mom-Ouise wouldn't like hers, because I had decorated it...and Katie was a much better colorer than I. Nevertheless, she loved it. I was also nervous that year, because I wasn't sure how Santa was going to find us. He did. And he brought me a Puppy Surprise, which I'm pretty sure my grandparents found disturbing. I also remember watching an old silent movie of my momma and her family when she was a kid. My grandparents, uncles, aunts, parents, sister, cousins, and I sat in the enclosed carport and watched the film as my Uncle Dick provided commentary. That's when he dubbed himself "Uncle Hotdog," a name we still use for him. Then, he danced with my grandmother in the carport as we all watched and giggled. Mom-Ouise pretended to be embarrassed, but I know she loved it...because in many ways my mother is just like her...and so am I...and we would have loved that.
It was wonderful to experience the Clisham Christmas, even if it was just that once. Now that I live so far away from my family, I truly appreciate how special that was for my mother.
- On a lighter note....I'd like to address the great donut fiasco of 2009. It was Lucas' first Christmas with us in Gatlinburg. You have to understand, Lucas' family isn't into Christmas quite like mine is. And I apparently didn't prepare him for the merriment I expected him to have. He still felt a little uncomfortable around my family and he wasn't really sure what his role was in the whole the Davises do Gatlinburg Santa Style trip. Basically, he was over-whelmed and ready to go home almost as soon as we got there. He was a trooper for about 36 hours, but when the 37th rolled around, he was ready to split. I gave him permission to bolt, but I did so hoping he'd change his mind and stay. (Communication was especially weak at this point in our young marriage.) So, he was going to leave early on our last day there and I was going to stay and spend time with my family then drive back with my parents. Early that morning my parents invited us to get our traditional donuts at the Donut Friar. I declined, because Lucas was still asleep and I felt bad leaving him. My mom offered to bring us back donuts. She did so and asked me if I was still staying or leaving with Lucas (as tears welled up in her eyes). I cried. I cried a lot and started to resent my husband for putting me in this situation. So, like any crazed Christmas wife would, I decided to confront my husband on the issue. When I woke him, he yelled at me for waking him and stumbled out of bed fifteen minutes later. Fit to be tied, I started to eat my donut in hopes that it would calm my nerves. It did until Lucas emerged from bed, fussed at me for getting him up so early, talked about leaving, and said, "Is that a donut? Where's my donut? Here I am doing your family's Christmas thing and they can't even get me a donut?" Despite the fact that I knew Lucas is always grumpy in the morning and says thing that he doesn't mean when he first wakes up, my blood still boiled. I reached the breaking point. I
He ate the donut. I was afforded a little more time with my parents...and a little more time with them the next year. And now we can laugh at the great donut incident of 2009. God love him. Lucas can never win.
- Rudolph de Nariz Roja! My elementary school always did ( and still does) their version of "The Nutcracker" every year. My sister was the Sugar Plum Fairy her year, and I was a Sugar Plum Fairy attendant my year. I had the best role. I got to do two dances and sit on stage throughout pretty much the entire play. No backstage boredom for me. That was all well and done, but the most memorable part of our evening on stage was the fifteen minute concert before the play in which we sang "Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer" in Spanish. For weeks I went around our house belting "Rudolph de Nariz Roja!" at the top of my little lungs. I sang it so much, in fact, I'm pretty sure Katie still knows the song in full.
- I lose things. Generally, I always find them, but still...I lose things. For years, my family was convinced that I had lost my mom's copy of the aforementioned recording of her and her family from the 50s. Well, I didn't. I have no clue what happened to that VHS tape. Honest to blog, I don't. Nevertheless, I was blamed for its disappearance for years. A few years ago, I received an especially brutal verbal beating over the missing tape by my entire family. They stopped badgering me when I started to cry and bleated out my innocence like a little lamb fighting for its life. I decided on that day that I would show them...I would show them all. So, I made a call to my aunt and uncle in Maryland, and the following Christmas I had my revenge (sort of). I told my mother her present was in the living room. I had her sit on the couch and close her eyes. Then I went to the TV and started the DVD player. She opened her eyes, and there she was as a baby, surrounded by family in a time unknown to me. And she gasped and sat in bewilderment of the footage she hadn't seen in years. Instead of feeling avenged, I felt like I had found a missing puzzle piece for my mom. It wasn't about what I did or didn't do; it was about relieving some pain for my mother, making her happy.
Well, I've written yet another novel! Nothing wrong with happy reflections, I guess. I hope that when you're reading this, some of your favorite Christmas memories come to you. Christmas is a magical, beautiful holiday, and I wish you all the best this particular year. God bless you and keep you.
Friday, October 21, 2011
Stressssssssssssssssss. The Hard Stuff.
I just watched my husband have one of the most stressful weeks of his life. He went through training at EVMS, prepared for and took his midterms, taught class, went to class, and received a teaching evaluation that I'm sure he'd rather I not mention. Well, I'll only mention it briefly. An adjunct instructor with an M.A. in Lit (which Lucas also has...not to mention he taught adjunct the year before we moved here) couldn't seem to make one positive comment about the class she observed. Now, I may be biased, but I know what kind of teacher my husband is. He's great. He cares about his students and their success. And he takes pride in his job. So, it broke my heart to see him throw the evaluation across our living room and dwell on this one person's opinion, which in my opinion, held no relevance because she failed to make suggestions as to how he should improve. She just scolded him for knit picky things - like a few of his adult students texting while he was working with other students. I've had bad evaluations. It happens to the best of us even when we're trying our hardest. You can't please everyone, and that's a fact. Regardless, me mentioning this to him seemed to do very little to make him feel better.
So, Lucas is stressed and he hasn't slept well all week. I've woken up to him crawling away from his computer and into bed past 3 a.m. several times this week. One night, he went to bed as I got up to start my work day, only to have to get up a couple hours later to teach his class.
I have never seen Lucas like this. Usually, he's the calm one. He's the one who has to make me slow down. He's the one who offers me comfort only to be pushed away - because all the kind, sympathetic words in the world won't help when you're stuck in that frame of mind. The whole situation is foreign to me. Lucas stresses over what he wants to eat for dinner, but when it comes to the hard stuff - worrying about his career, his work relationships, his ability to provide, his reputation - he's always brushed that stuff aside. When it comes to the things that keep most of us awake at night, he always seems to know that everything will be OK. So, when I saw my grown husband grip his head and cry last night, I didn't really know what to do. I usually brush his "stress" aside. Because his stress generally consists of him not knowing what to eat or if he should or shouldn't rent some video game. Sure, he stresses over his school work, but that's simply because he wants validation that he's doing a good job - even when he knows he his, he wants to hear it from me. Maybe it shouldn't, but that stuff seems silly to me. I'm the one who worries about how we're going to pay our bills and getting our taxes done in time and saving money for tuition and making sure the garbage cans are taken out in a timely manner. In fact, I've always been kind of bitter, because in my mind, Lucas has always had the luxury of worrying about the easily fixed stuff. I'm the one who bears the big burdens. Or so I've told myself for the past couple of years.
I've developed a horrible habit of brushing off Lucas' problems as if they're unimportant. Usually, I grow frustrated and roll my eyes at his so-called "dilemmas." Usually, I do whatever I need to appease him, but I feel like he owes me and I'm not really happy to help him. But last night, for the first time since we got married, I didn't feel that way at all. I happily went and bought him the dinner he requested. And I didn't mention the fact that his button up shirt was on inside out, which I'm sure it had been all day. When he asked me not to turn on the TV for five minutes because he couldn't handle the noise, I decided to leave it turned off for the rest of the night. When I asked him why he couldn't sleep and he told me it was because he couldn't get comfortable in our small full size bed, I offered to sleep on the couch so he could sprawl and be at peace. He felt bad for accepting my offer, but he took it nonetheless. And I was truly glad that he did. Being the sweet guy he is, he told me I could come to bed once he fell asleep because, as he said, "once I'm asleep there's no waking me up." So, I slept on the couch until about four this morning, then Gus, Elliott, and I joined him in bed. We slept together as a family like we always do. This time, however, I didn't hear Lucas grind his teeth or sleepily curse the pets (or me) for taking up space. He just slept. I don't even think he realized we were there.
Stress. It's a killer. I should know, because I'm the kind of person who craves it. Lucas isn't that kind of person, though. He's the smiley one in our family. He's the one who makes me stop in the kitchen and dance stupidly when I'm trying to accomplish a million things and pulling out my hair simultaneously.
I learned a lesson last night (and throughout the week) about supporting the ones you love with no agenda. I'd like to thank God for that one. I feel like He gave me a pretty great week full of blessings (and about ten small miracles) in order to be able to show my husband His love through my actions. I gotta say, it felt good to finally be strong for my husband after all the times he's done the same for me.
Lucas, my sweet boy,
I am so proud of you. I'm proud of your accomplishments, and I'm proud simply because you made it through such a miserable week. Please, rent a video game this weekend. You deserve it.
So, Lucas is stressed and he hasn't slept well all week. I've woken up to him crawling away from his computer and into bed past 3 a.m. several times this week. One night, he went to bed as I got up to start my work day, only to have to get up a couple hours later to teach his class.
I have never seen Lucas like this. Usually, he's the calm one. He's the one who has to make me slow down. He's the one who offers me comfort only to be pushed away - because all the kind, sympathetic words in the world won't help when you're stuck in that frame of mind. The whole situation is foreign to me. Lucas stresses over what he wants to eat for dinner, but when it comes to the hard stuff - worrying about his career, his work relationships, his ability to provide, his reputation - he's always brushed that stuff aside. When it comes to the things that keep most of us awake at night, he always seems to know that everything will be OK. So, when I saw my grown husband grip his head and cry last night, I didn't really know what to do. I usually brush his "stress" aside. Because his stress generally consists of him not knowing what to eat or if he should or shouldn't rent some video game. Sure, he stresses over his school work, but that's simply because he wants validation that he's doing a good job - even when he knows he his, he wants to hear it from me. Maybe it shouldn't, but that stuff seems silly to me. I'm the one who worries about how we're going to pay our bills and getting our taxes done in time and saving money for tuition and making sure the garbage cans are taken out in a timely manner. In fact, I've always been kind of bitter, because in my mind, Lucas has always had the luxury of worrying about the easily fixed stuff. I'm the one who bears the big burdens. Or so I've told myself for the past couple of years.
I've developed a horrible habit of brushing off Lucas' problems as if they're unimportant. Usually, I grow frustrated and roll my eyes at his so-called "dilemmas." Usually, I do whatever I need to appease him, but I feel like he owes me and I'm not really happy to help him. But last night, for the first time since we got married, I didn't feel that way at all. I happily went and bought him the dinner he requested. And I didn't mention the fact that his button up shirt was on inside out, which I'm sure it had been all day. When he asked me not to turn on the TV for five minutes because he couldn't handle the noise, I decided to leave it turned off for the rest of the night. When I asked him why he couldn't sleep and he told me it was because he couldn't get comfortable in our small full size bed, I offered to sleep on the couch so he could sprawl and be at peace. He felt bad for accepting my offer, but he took it nonetheless. And I was truly glad that he did. Being the sweet guy he is, he told me I could come to bed once he fell asleep because, as he said, "once I'm asleep there's no waking me up." So, I slept on the couch until about four this morning, then Gus, Elliott, and I joined him in bed. We slept together as a family like we always do. This time, however, I didn't hear Lucas grind his teeth or sleepily curse the pets (or me) for taking up space. He just slept. I don't even think he realized we were there.
Stress. It's a killer. I should know, because I'm the kind of person who craves it. Lucas isn't that kind of person, though. He's the smiley one in our family. He's the one who makes me stop in the kitchen and dance stupidly when I'm trying to accomplish a million things and pulling out my hair simultaneously.
I learned a lesson last night (and throughout the week) about supporting the ones you love with no agenda. I'd like to thank God for that one. I feel like He gave me a pretty great week full of blessings (and about ten small miracles) in order to be able to show my husband His love through my actions. I gotta say, it felt good to finally be strong for my husband after all the times he's done the same for me.
Lucas, my sweet boy,
I am so proud of you. I'm proud of your accomplishments, and I'm proud simply because you made it through such a miserable week. Please, rent a video game this weekend. You deserve it.
Sunday, October 9, 2011
Love Is Patient, Love Is Kind (Sometimes)
Over the past couple of weeks, I've heard about several break-ups/new relationships among my friends. This made me think about relationships in general and how wonderful/awful they can be. Let's face it, the Bible may tell us that love is patient and kind, but sometimes that patience wears thin (to become almost invisible) and it's definitely unkind more often than we'd like. Maybe the J. Geils band had it right when they said "love stinks."
Marriage has been the hardest endeavor I've ever pursued. I say this sincerely (and a little uncomfortably).
When I was a kid, I looked at magazine pictures of happy couples and envisioned how my husband I would look one day - just as happy, just as perfect and in love as the L.L. Bean couple on page ten. Well, when Lucas and I got married, I still had stars in my eyes for the most part. We'd had our fair share of arguments, and I knew we'd have our respected "issues" throughout our marriage. But I loved him so much, none of that mattered. We were still going to be just like those magazine couples.
Meh...maybe I was too idealistic.
Lucas and I have shared some beautiful moments together. For instance, when I was bummed to the point of wanting to quit my job at CHS and give up all my adult obligations, Lucas was there to play me a song on his guitar and remind me that I could do anything. For some reason, he thinks I'm Superwoman. It's nice to know that someone believes in me that much.
Lucas and I have also shared some monumental fights. We're talking Kathleen Turner/Michael Douglas in War of the Roses fights. EPIC. Name-calling*, door-slamming, household item-throwing, suitcase-packing fights. (Yeah, I went there.) And sometimes, those fights weren't resolved so quickly.
The point is - we worked through it. We work hard at our marriage. Just like recovering alcoholics, we take things one day at a time. It's not easy. It's time consuming and frustrating. We're both two incredibly stubborn people, and we have difficulties bending to each other's wills. If I nag Lucas, it's a sure sign that he won't do whatever I asked him to do. If Lucas whines about something I have or haven't done, guess what? The Davis passive aggressiveness comes out full throttle. Other times (the worst times), the Clisham unabashed anger ensues. Actually, I don't think the word anger quite cuts it. I become a completely different person full of the worst kind of wrath. We both want things the way we want them and when we want them. I don't think this is an unusual ordeal for most married couples, but it stinks none the less.
Clearly, I'm no expert on marriage (or relationships in general). But, I feel confident about one thing.
I married the man I was supposed to marry, and I will always be his wife.
John Byrne, my dear friend Amy's brother, is autistic. He is also a prophet...and has a bit of a crush on me. When I saw him last weekend, he told me that he was going to get a posse together to beat up Lucas if he ever hurt me. I told him that was sweet, but I hoped it never came to that. I told him that Lucas is a great guy - even when we fight, and he said, "Well, you know, love is for better or for worse." What a wise person John is. He's completely right.
I always said "I don't believe in divorce." When you marry someone, that's it. Make your decision wisely. I'm not sure I completely agree with my past-self anymore. Sometimes ending a relationship is necessary. People change over time. But, both Lucas and I have watched our parents maintain marriages for over 30 years. (If memory serves me right, Lucas' parents have been married for 40 years.) We've heard of (and at times witnessed) our parents' arguments. We know that they had to work at marriage, too. Even though I'm sure at times they wanted to, they never gave up. They set an example for us.
Lucas and I got married quickly (as I've mentioned before). We're still learning about each other. I can tell you the name of Lucas' first girlfriend. He can tell you about my first kiss. I know the name of his first pet. He knows how tall I was in 5th grade. I don't know what Lucas' first short story was. He can't tell you about the first dance I was in at Winthrop. We're saving these tid bits of information for later. Because until we die, there will always be a later. We change daily - as individuals and as a couple. Sometimes adjusting to those changes isn't easy - to say the least. But, we do it one day at a time.
Again, clearly, I'm no expert at marriage. But I do know something...a few things. For those of you who have just started a relationship, a marriage, or as my students used to say, you've just started "talking" to someone, here are a few things to keep in mind.
1. Give it a chance. If it doesn't sparkle and shine in the beginning, it might later.
2. Give it a chance. If it sparkles and shines at the beginning, but fades later - put a little ketchup (Vitamin C) on it, and it just may sparkle again.
3. Be honest - with yourself and your significant other. Give it a chance, but don't force yourself to try and make something out of nothing. You know yourself better than anyone. Do what's best for you. Listen to yourself.
4. If you're unhappy, figure out why. And then fix it. If that means giving up said relationship, do it. (It might not be the relationship. Your unhappiness might be something else, but you blame it on the relationship. Think. Again, be honest with yourself.)
5. Take it slow. (Ha. The lady who got engaged after five months says to "take it slow." Yeah, she does. You should listen to her.) If you love someone and he/she loves you the same way, time means nothing. He or she will always be there.
6. That stupid book/ movie "He's Just Not That Into You" has a point. If you ain't feeling the love and you ain't giving the love, it won't work.
7. Ross Gellar made a Pro/Con list that got him in trouble with Rachel. However, he was pretty smart. Marriage is more than just love. (And let's face it, when we (well, most of us) start relationships, we hope they will last forever. We hope we've found "the one.") Marriage if about 30% love and 70% everything else. If your boy isn't making you feel pretty or your lady isn't listening to your rants, and this makes you unhappy, it might not be enough. Go on, be picky. You're worth it.
8. To counter that, don't be too picky. People sure can surprise you.
If you've just ended a relationship, keep the following in mind:
1. You ended it for a reason. Whatever it was, it was worth ending it.
2. Sometimes ending a relationship, no matter how hard it is to do, is best. Stay strong.
3. Be proud of yourself, because hopefully, you gave it your all and you followed your heart.
4. Be kind - to yourself and the other party. People are still people. Sometimes that's easy to forget in a break-up situation.
5. Plan ahead for yourself - with no one else in mind.
6. Recognize the past. It happened for a reason. It was part of God's plan. Learn from it. Respect it.
7. Ride off on your white horse and don't look back. If it ended, then hopefully, you made sure it did for a reason. Be proud of your decision. I hope you're proud of your decision. I hope it was best for you. (I was never good at this one - as the dumper or the dumpee. I couldn't just let go. I beg you, let go.)
My maternal grandparents fussed at each other constantly. My sister and I giggled every time we saw my grandmother roll her eyes at our Pop when he slurped his soup. We loved it when my almost deaf grandfather yelled "Go to Hell" at the TV screen when the Orioles screwed up during a game. My grandmother would yell "WILLIAM!" in an attempt to scold him for his foul mouth. I heard my Mom-Ouise say some pretty nasty things to my Pop. And I saw my Pop fuss back at her or ignore her completely. They were Edith and Archie Bunker - if Edith grew a spine times ten. Mom-Ouise was not one to hold her tongue. (Lucas, I get it honestly.) They bickered and bickered...but my favorite memory of them was when I was in the eighth grade. Mom-Ouise had congested heart disease and diabetes. The doctors didn't give her much time. (She was stubborn, though, and made it two years longer than they'd given her.) My mom made monthly trips to Baltimore to help take care of Mom-Ouise that year. One time, my mom and I made the trip together. At dinner, we'd eaten Mom-Ouise's soup - her recipe. This was the soup my grandmother always had on the stove for us when we came to visit. Even if we got into town at 2 a.m., there was soup on the stove. My mom and Aunt Helen made it. But, this batch didn't have salt in it, because it had to go along with Mom-Ouise's dietary needs. My tiny 120 lb. grandmother sipped the soup and made a face. "How is it?" she asked me. "It's good," I said. "It isn't. It tastes awful. There's no salt," she said. "No, it's good," I said. (It tasted AWFUL.) She passed me the salt and winked. Mom Ouise always winked, and even when she smiled, the corners of her mouth turned down. I loved that. Later than night, my grandfather drove his ancient Ford Escort to my uncle and aunt's house where my grandmother stayed. I was in the kitchen and I heard my grandfather say to his wife, the woman he constantly argued with, "I love you, Louise." She replied, "I love you too, Bill." And I cried like an infant right there in my uncle and aunt's kitchen. And then I saw my mother standing outside the guest bedroom where they were, and she gasped and cried too. This made me cry harder, of course.
Mom-Ouise died in October of 2001. Pop, who from what my family could tell was in good condition, died in October of 2002. For a year, anytime I talked to Pop, I would ask him how he was. He would reply, "I'm lonely." I believe he died of a broken heart. He and my grandmother dated through WWII, they married in 1945 when Pop came home "without a scratch." They had four wonderful children and eight grandchildren. I am the youngest. They have seven great grand-children and one on the way. They had some epic fights. And they loved each other...hopelessly...sometimes questionably...always indefinitely...for better or for worse.
Relationships are hard. They take a lot of work. Sometimes they need to end. Sometimes they simply need Biblical patience. And time. They always need time.
If you have just started a relationship or if you've just ended one or if you're newly married or have been married for a long time (or it just feels like a long time), know this....
Louise and Bill is a great romance story - and yours is waiting for you and your loved one...if you've just found him/her, if you're still looking for him/her, or if he/she sleeps next to you every night.
Love is patient (when you have patience) and kind (when you're willing to be just that) and it stinks (only if you're unwilling to spray a little Fabreeze).
So, I guess all I'm offering with this blog is...I understand. Love is fickle. And beautiful. And messy. It is what it is. Just remember, listen to your heart, your God, yourself. When you meet a man (or woman) who hates your cooking, but eats it anyway, then orders chicken wings when you've gone to bed....perhaps he or she is worth loving a little.
* By the way, the funniest (?) bashing Lucas ever gave me was this one: he viciously called me a Republican. Ouch?
Marriage has been the hardest endeavor I've ever pursued. I say this sincerely (and a little uncomfortably).
When I was a kid, I looked at magazine pictures of happy couples and envisioned how my husband I would look one day - just as happy, just as perfect and in love as the L.L. Bean couple on page ten. Well, when Lucas and I got married, I still had stars in my eyes for the most part. We'd had our fair share of arguments, and I knew we'd have our respected "issues" throughout our marriage. But I loved him so much, none of that mattered. We were still going to be just like those magazine couples.
Meh...maybe I was too idealistic.
Lucas and I have shared some beautiful moments together. For instance, when I was bummed to the point of wanting to quit my job at CHS and give up all my adult obligations, Lucas was there to play me a song on his guitar and remind me that I could do anything. For some reason, he thinks I'm Superwoman. It's nice to know that someone believes in me that much.
Lucas and I have also shared some monumental fights. We're talking Kathleen Turner/Michael Douglas in War of the Roses fights. EPIC. Name-calling*, door-slamming, household item-throwing, suitcase-packing fights. (Yeah, I went there.) And sometimes, those fights weren't resolved so quickly.
The point is - we worked through it. We work hard at our marriage. Just like recovering alcoholics, we take things one day at a time. It's not easy. It's time consuming and frustrating. We're both two incredibly stubborn people, and we have difficulties bending to each other's wills. If I nag Lucas, it's a sure sign that he won't do whatever I asked him to do. If Lucas whines about something I have or haven't done, guess what? The Davis passive aggressiveness comes out full throttle. Other times (the worst times), the Clisham unabashed anger ensues. Actually, I don't think the word anger quite cuts it. I become a completely different person full of the worst kind of wrath. We both want things the way we want them and when we want them. I don't think this is an unusual ordeal for most married couples, but it stinks none the less.
Clearly, I'm no expert on marriage (or relationships in general). But, I feel confident about one thing.
I married the man I was supposed to marry, and I will always be his wife.
John Byrne, my dear friend Amy's brother, is autistic. He is also a prophet...and has a bit of a crush on me. When I saw him last weekend, he told me that he was going to get a posse together to beat up Lucas if he ever hurt me. I told him that was sweet, but I hoped it never came to that. I told him that Lucas is a great guy - even when we fight, and he said, "Well, you know, love is for better or for worse." What a wise person John is. He's completely right.
I always said "I don't believe in divorce." When you marry someone, that's it. Make your decision wisely. I'm not sure I completely agree with my past-self anymore. Sometimes ending a relationship is necessary. People change over time. But, both Lucas and I have watched our parents maintain marriages for over 30 years. (If memory serves me right, Lucas' parents have been married for 40 years.) We've heard of (and at times witnessed) our parents' arguments. We know that they had to work at marriage, too. Even though I'm sure at times they wanted to, they never gave up. They set an example for us.
Lucas and I got married quickly (as I've mentioned before). We're still learning about each other. I can tell you the name of Lucas' first girlfriend. He can tell you about my first kiss. I know the name of his first pet. He knows how tall I was in 5th grade. I don't know what Lucas' first short story was. He can't tell you about the first dance I was in at Winthrop. We're saving these tid bits of information for later. Because until we die, there will always be a later. We change daily - as individuals and as a couple. Sometimes adjusting to those changes isn't easy - to say the least. But, we do it one day at a time.
Again, clearly, I'm no expert at marriage. But I do know something...a few things. For those of you who have just started a relationship, a marriage, or as my students used to say, you've just started "talking" to someone, here are a few things to keep in mind.
1. Give it a chance. If it doesn't sparkle and shine in the beginning, it might later.
2. Give it a chance. If it sparkles and shines at the beginning, but fades later - put a little ketchup (Vitamin C) on it, and it just may sparkle again.
3. Be honest - with yourself and your significant other. Give it a chance, but don't force yourself to try and make something out of nothing. You know yourself better than anyone. Do what's best for you. Listen to yourself.
4. If you're unhappy, figure out why. And then fix it. If that means giving up said relationship, do it. (It might not be the relationship. Your unhappiness might be something else, but you blame it on the relationship. Think. Again, be honest with yourself.)
5. Take it slow. (Ha. The lady who got engaged after five months says to "take it slow." Yeah, she does. You should listen to her.) If you love someone and he/she loves you the same way, time means nothing. He or she will always be there.
6. That stupid book/ movie "He's Just Not That Into You" has a point. If you ain't feeling the love and you ain't giving the love, it won't work.
7. Ross Gellar made a Pro/Con list that got him in trouble with Rachel. However, he was pretty smart. Marriage is more than just love. (And let's face it, when we (well, most of us) start relationships, we hope they will last forever. We hope we've found "the one.") Marriage if about 30% love and 70% everything else. If your boy isn't making you feel pretty or your lady isn't listening to your rants, and this makes you unhappy, it might not be enough. Go on, be picky. You're worth it.
8. To counter that, don't be too picky. People sure can surprise you.
If you've just ended a relationship, keep the following in mind:
1. You ended it for a reason. Whatever it was, it was worth ending it.
2. Sometimes ending a relationship, no matter how hard it is to do, is best. Stay strong.
3. Be proud of yourself, because hopefully, you gave it your all and you followed your heart.
4. Be kind - to yourself and the other party. People are still people. Sometimes that's easy to forget in a break-up situation.
5. Plan ahead for yourself - with no one else in mind.
6. Recognize the past. It happened for a reason. It was part of God's plan. Learn from it. Respect it.
7. Ride off on your white horse and don't look back. If it ended, then hopefully, you made sure it did for a reason. Be proud of your decision. I hope you're proud of your decision. I hope it was best for you. (I was never good at this one - as the dumper or the dumpee. I couldn't just let go. I beg you, let go.)
My maternal grandparents fussed at each other constantly. My sister and I giggled every time we saw my grandmother roll her eyes at our Pop when he slurped his soup. We loved it when my almost deaf grandfather yelled "Go to Hell" at the TV screen when the Orioles screwed up during a game. My grandmother would yell "WILLIAM!" in an attempt to scold him for his foul mouth. I heard my Mom-Ouise say some pretty nasty things to my Pop. And I saw my Pop fuss back at her or ignore her completely. They were Edith and Archie Bunker - if Edith grew a spine times ten. Mom-Ouise was not one to hold her tongue. (Lucas, I get it honestly.) They bickered and bickered...but my favorite memory of them was when I was in the eighth grade. Mom-Ouise had congested heart disease and diabetes. The doctors didn't give her much time. (She was stubborn, though, and made it two years longer than they'd given her.) My mom made monthly trips to Baltimore to help take care of Mom-Ouise that year. One time, my mom and I made the trip together. At dinner, we'd eaten Mom-Ouise's soup - her recipe. This was the soup my grandmother always had on the stove for us when we came to visit. Even if we got into town at 2 a.m., there was soup on the stove. My mom and Aunt Helen made it. But, this batch didn't have salt in it, because it had to go along with Mom-Ouise's dietary needs. My tiny 120 lb. grandmother sipped the soup and made a face. "How is it?" she asked me. "It's good," I said. "It isn't. It tastes awful. There's no salt," she said. "No, it's good," I said. (It tasted AWFUL.) She passed me the salt and winked. Mom Ouise always winked, and even when she smiled, the corners of her mouth turned down. I loved that. Later than night, my grandfather drove his ancient Ford Escort to my uncle and aunt's house where my grandmother stayed. I was in the kitchen and I heard my grandfather say to his wife, the woman he constantly argued with, "I love you, Louise." She replied, "I love you too, Bill." And I cried like an infant right there in my uncle and aunt's kitchen. And then I saw my mother standing outside the guest bedroom where they were, and she gasped and cried too. This made me cry harder, of course.
Mom-Ouise died in October of 2001. Pop, who from what my family could tell was in good condition, died in October of 2002. For a year, anytime I talked to Pop, I would ask him how he was. He would reply, "I'm lonely." I believe he died of a broken heart. He and my grandmother dated through WWII, they married in 1945 when Pop came home "without a scratch." They had four wonderful children and eight grandchildren. I am the youngest. They have seven great grand-children and one on the way. They had some epic fights. And they loved each other...hopelessly...sometimes questionably...always indefinitely...for better or for worse.
Relationships are hard. They take a lot of work. Sometimes they need to end. Sometimes they simply need Biblical patience. And time. They always need time.
If you have just started a relationship or if you've just ended one or if you're newly married or have been married for a long time (or it just feels like a long time), know this....
Louise and Bill is a great romance story - and yours is waiting for you and your loved one...if you've just found him/her, if you're still looking for him/her, or if he/she sleeps next to you every night.
Love is patient (when you have patience) and kind (when you're willing to be just that) and it stinks (only if you're unwilling to spray a little Fabreeze).
So, I guess all I'm offering with this blog is...I understand. Love is fickle. And beautiful. And messy. It is what it is. Just remember, listen to your heart, your God, yourself. When you meet a man (or woman) who hates your cooking, but eats it anyway, then orders chicken wings when you've gone to bed....perhaps he or she is worth loving a little.
* By the way, the funniest (?) bashing Lucas ever gave me was this one: he viciously called me a Republican. Ouch?
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