Let Your Husband Be the Dad

Let Your Husband Be the Dad

A while back, I described that one summer weekend, when our son was three, and I spent a weekend visiting friends, leaving my husband to be our son’s primary care giver all weekend. Per usual, I’d written out all the detailed instructions for the proper care of our son- what to wear, what to eat, when to eat, sleep, play, a reminder of favorite things, everything. You know: the list. I even cleaned the whole house, precooked meals, and laid out clothes for our son. Needless to say, they had a great weekend that didn't look like anything I'd planned. Why? Because I wasn't home and I'm not my son's father.

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Listen

Listen

Porch time has always been my favorite part of the day with my husband. I used to see it as a time to totally download all my thoughts onto Scott, giving him my expectations for his day. I didn't understand why he would clam up and shut down. Car rides were that way, too, as I invited Scott into my stream of conscientiousness, dragging him through my every thought. And yet, with porch time and car rides, I longed to hear my husband's thoughts but didn't understand why he didn't share them..and I didn't know how to listen when he did. Can you say overwhelmed?

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If You Can't Say Something Nice

If You Can't Say Something Nice

"Although that fleece isn't flattering, I bet it's super warm!"

Yes, my super husband, my perfect gift from God, said that to me. About a fleece I was wearing. In the car. On our way to work together. Past the point of possibly changing my clothes. Did it hurt my feelings? Yes. Did he mean to hurt me? No. But I love the way Dennis Rainey sums it up:

No other human relationship can approach the potential for intimacy and oneness than can be found within the context of the marriage commitment. And yet no other relationship can bring with it as many adjustments, difficulties, and even hurts. ~Dennis Rainey

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A Wife's Role

A Wife's Role

In the first part of our marriage, I was the boss at work...and at home. Growing up I heard that women could do anything, and I could be anything I wanted to be (except a police officer, firefighter or in the military, but that's another story). That may work well in the workforce, but I've since learned that the roles in marriage are equal, but distinctly different.

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Space to Work

Space to Work

In our first apartment when we were newlyweds, the kitchen was tiny. Scott loved to cook (then and now), and when I gave him the time and space, he created some amazing feasts...even back then on our tiny budget. But there were times, more often than not, when I wanted to 'help' him (read: make sure he didn't mess up) as he prepared a new dish. Without the space (literal and figurative) to work, frustration would build in that tiny kitchen, and we experienced how too many cooks can spoil the broth.

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Expectations

Expectations

Growing up, my father knew everything and could fix anything- plumbing, electrical, carpentry, roofing, cars- you name it, he could do it. Yep, I grew up in Superman's house, watching him leap tall buildings and race with locomotives. So when Scott and I got married, I knew he couldn't possibly be Superman. Every time something required repair in our house, I would tell Scott he couldn't fix it and that he needed to call my dad. And most times, Scott lived right into my negative expectations.

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Button Pusher

Button Pusher

Are you a button pusher? Is your husband?You know what I'm talking about, it's that 'thing' you two just can't talk about without it becoming the biggest issue in the house, just short of exploding into World War III. And it may be over something as simple as pork rinds, how your husband chews his food, or the route you take to church.

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Girlfriends

Girlfriends

Growing up, we spent weeks of our summers with family in upstate NY, and it always fascinated me how at every gathering, my mother, grandmother and aunts naturally ended up around the big kitchen table, laughing and talking about everything. I was drawn to them as a group. The men were outside or in the garage, smoking cigars and talking loudly. When Scott and I married and bought a house, it seemed the same thing would happen- the women at any gathering were drawn to the kitchen table to laugh, cry and share.

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Just Say Thank You

Just Say Thank You

Around our tenth wedding anniversary, my husband Scott bought me an anniversary band, giving it to me at Christmastime. I was mortified. The thoughts that raced through my head and came out of my mouth unfiltered were so disrespectful, and not the response he anticipated. 'I can't believe you did this. I can't believe you spent this kind of money. I don't want expensive jewelry. What were you thinking?' It makes my heart sad to think about it now. Why didn't I just say thank you?

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You Bought a...What?!

You Bought a...What?!

One night, as we were getting into bed, Scott told me he had bought a motorcycle that day using money from our retirement account to make the purchase. Needless to say, as the long term manager of our finances, I was speechless. I didn't even know what to say. We hadn't talked about it. We hadn't budgeted it. Sure, I knew he longed for one, but that was just a dream boys have...wasn't it?

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Chauffeur or VIP?

Chauffeur or VIP?

One summer weekend, when our son was three, I spent a weekend visiting friends, leaving my husband to be our son's primary care giver all weekend. Per usual, I'd written out all the detailed instructions for the proper care of our son- what to wear, what to eat, when to eat, sleep, play, a reminder of favorite things, everything. You know: the list. I even cleaned the whole house, precooked meals, and laid out clothes for our son. Imagine my surprise when I arrived home to a messy house, pizza boxes, and our son dressed in boxers, snow boots and a pajama top stomping in puddles in the backyard.

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Did You Marry a Loser?

Did You Marry a Loser?

My husband has an entrepreneur's spirit. He has always longed to own a business, to be his own boss, set his own schedule, and to own something bigger than himself. I, on the other hand, have always preferred to live knowing that someone else is responsible for making sure my paychecks will clear, confident that my hard work would be acknowledged and rewarded. And frankly, once upon a time, in the early years of our marriage, I would tell Scott that his ideas for owning a business were unrealistic...and yes...(I said it)...stupid.

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Bye-Bye Granny Panties!

Bye-Bye Granny Panties!

Hold on to your blue jeans for this one,  here comes a mighty confession! As a matter of fact, someone just might want to call me up and take me out to lunch! Whoodoggie...forget the lunch, just drop by my office with a dozen cream filled doughnuts, a couple of jars of crunchy peanut butter and some chocolate bars. I am coming clean and it feels good. It's a day of revelation!

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