It amazes me how much can happen in 9, short years. I mean, the first 9 years of my life were virtually uneventful as far as I could tell. But these last 9 years? Phew!
Tomorrow marks the 9th anniversary of the day I walked into a Phoenix courthouse a single woman, and walked out a married lady. 9 years. I'm still in complete awe. Especially when you take into consideration how our marriage came to be.
I met Daniel at work. The two of us worked in the marketing department at Sears. (Which is a fancy way of saying we put up the sale signs in the morning and rearranged displays in the afternoon.) Our boss needed a display done in the men's department and sent myself and my future spouse to go dress up some mannequins. The shirts needed ironing and this incredibly chauvinistic male of mine, said that was a woman's job. (I know, right? Why did I even marry this dude?) But I learned quickly that this guy could take all the crap that I dished out at him and give his own share in return. Our work relationship turned into one of competition and friendly banter. Finally, after having a conversation about who was better at video games (I was really into playing Fable at the time and he stupidly told me that he beat the game in a single day. The dork had never even played it before. lol), he finally challenged me to a showdown at Castles and Coasters. (A local arcade and theme park in Phoenix, AZ.)
I feel inclined to mention that he totally whipped my ass. (*Coughs* I let him win...)
Two weeks later, I was moving in with him. Now, that's normally not me. I don't just randomly move in with guys I just met like two months ago. But due to some extenuating circumstances that I won't air in public, I was suddenly without a home. I'd only been in Phoenix for a few months and I had no where else to go. I couldn't afford an apartment on the measly part-time, hourly wage I was making at Sears. So this seemed to be the only solution. (Thank God he wasn't a serial killer, huh?)
The November before we married, I found out I was pregnant. Terrified, I blurted out to him that I didn't want to be a single mother. That wasn't my way of asking for a proposal. I'm just the kind of person who doesn't have a filter and has a habit of saying what I was thinking. And at that moment, I was thinking that this guy could leave me at any time and I would be left utterly alone to raise a newborn. What the hell was I gonna do? In a move that was classic romantic Daniel, he took the amethyst ring that he'd bought me the week before, slipped it off my left hand, and put it on my right. Then he looked me in the eyes and asked me to marry him.
I smacked him.
No, seriously! I thought he was pulling my leg and I wasn't pleased by the joke. It took a few minutes to realize he was serious. Then I said yes.
A few weeks later, I woke up to the most intense pain in my stomach imaginable and I had no idea what it was. I tried everything that a person with gastrointestinal pain would do. But nothing worked. Daniel was upset with me because he thought I was trying to get out of grocery shopping that day. (Honestly, I don't blame him. Its something I would totally do.) He almost walked out the door, completely pissed off at me. His hand was on the doorknob when I fainted. I woke up to him screaming at me, paramedics talking around me, and being half carried down three flights of stairs. I'll never forget how utterly calm I was while he was completely terrified. Ectopic pregnancy. I remember telling the doctor that if it were at all possibly, I'd really like to live through this. His response was that he would make sure I stayed alive if he could deliver my first born. I really loved that doctor.
The next day I was home (completely groggy and high as a kite) and in one piece. Mostly. I'd lost a lot of blood. In fact, if I had been any later getting to the hospital, I would not be here today to retell this story. My abdomen looked like someone had taken a baseball bat and beat me repeatedly. It felt about as bad too.
But more than anything, my relationship with my then fiance changed drastically overnight. I went from the woman that he loved, to the woman he was terrified to lose. This whole near death thing was completely devastating to him. Looking back, it wasn't the best reason to get married. But luckily it worked out pretty well for us. I'm not a psycho hose beast, and he's not an axe wielding monster.
Two weeks after our wedding, we found out I was pregnant again. 9 months later, Dr. Oland (the man who performed my ectopic) delivered Jenny into the world. It wasn't much of a honeymoon period, and its taken a long time for us to REALLY get to know each other. But after 9 years, I can honestly say that there isn't anyone else in this world I can see myself with. Its been turbulent, messy, heartbreaking, gut wrenching, agonizing, and absolutely wonderful. There have been births, moves, fires, evictions, a brief period of homelessness, moments of great prosperity, and moments of total devastation. In a nut shell, its been life, and its been beautiful.
I've known more love in 9 years than some people know their whole lives. I've taken most of it for granted and have had moments where I wondered what it would be like if I hadn't gone on that first date. But the truth is, I don't want to know. I love this insane life. I love my family. I love my husband and all his crazy stubbornness. I wouldn't trade him for anything.
Happy Anniversary, Babycakes.
Friday, January 31, 2014
Thursday, January 23, 2014
Soul Mates
Have you ever asked yourself what being in love actually means? What is love?
My very first thought when someone asks this question is to immediately respond with "Baby don't hurt me. Don't hurt me. No more."
Night at the Roxbury? Haddaway? Saturday Night Live? Anyone? Well, I thought it was funny.
Seriously though, its a common question with a very complicated answer. Unlike the answer to the ultimate question of life, the universe, and everything, it is not 42.
You can ask the question in several different ways.
Philosophically. What is love in the grande scheme of the universe? What does it really mean to us, to our very souls?
Physically. How do you actually feel when you are in love? Is it a specific sensation?
Psychologically. What changes inside your head when you finally make that connection to someone special, and how is it different from a "crush? How do you know when you're in love?"
When I was a young girl in my early teenage, hormone driven years, I thought I knew exactly what love was. Love was when you got that tingly sensation in your whole body when you were around someone you liked. It made you act goofy and want to do anything to make that other person happy.
Of course, my parents were divorced and had both been remarried a few times. So I honestly had nothing to base this theory on.
When I was in my early twenties, I had a completely different outlook on love. I was less optimistic and theorized that love was a chemical reaction that could be reproduced by eating large quantities of Chunky Monkey ice cream while taking a long bubble bath and reading a really good book.
Of course the end result of that is going to bed alone and dreaming of the brawny hero of your romance novel and gaining a few pounds in your thighs. It wasn't exactly a suitable alternative.
Being single is a lonely feeling. Especially the older you get. Its like there's this deep seeded need for another half of you that's been ingrained in your soul. According to ancient Greek myth, humans originally had four arms, four legs, and two heads. The god Zeus was afraid of the strength of the humans, so he split them as punishment for their pride. The halved humans were in misery and longed for the lost pieces to their bodies. Its said that when they one day found their other half, it was as if they just knew, and they found eternal happiness.
Maybe this is the reason for our lonely despair.
But if the story is to be believed, that would mean that love is something that happens to us. Its something that just falls into our laps. Its a lovely and romantic notion. Two people walking along a busy street one day and they bump into each other. Eyes meet, they smile, and they just.....know. Its beautiful.
But its hardly logical.
As a romance writer, its almost sacrilege to admit that the concept of soul mates is not something I believe in. Its just....unrealistic. Real, honest to goodness love, is not something you fall into, its not something that Ben and Jerry's can package in a little cardboard container, and it isn't something you can find inside a paperback.
So then what exactly is love?
As a married woman, there have been moments in my marriage where I've looked over at my husband and wondered "What would my life be like without him?" Of course, having that question in my heart would leave me with this sense of guilt. After 10 years of marriage, I'm not supposed to wonder this. I'm not supposed to question my love for the man I pledged to spend the rest of my life with. But I still do. Am I really in love, or is this just a comfortable situation that benefits both parties?
We've had our share of ups and downs. We even had a moment a few years ago where I was absolutely sure that we wouldn't make it through. I left him. I packed up my bags, grabbed my laptop, and just left. Of course, I came back. He's a stubborn fool who didn't accept no for an answer and he wore me down. But I'm glad I came back. Honestly, I can't survive without him. I think I forgot how.
But that's not love.
Then something happened to me last night. In the middle of Wisconsin's second "polar vortex" this year, our car suddenly decided to blow a radiator hose. It was 8 pm and my kids and I were on our way to pick up my husband from work. The wind chill was around -30 degrees and here we were, sitting by the side of the road in the middle of nowhere, freezing. I frantically call my husband and beginning screaming incoherently into the phone that I had no idea what to do. A panic attack was fully underway as he began telling me over and over to calm down.
I should mention now that I don't do well thinking under extremely stressful situations.
While my scattered thoughts were on how to get home and if my kids were warm enough, my husband's first action was to begin walking. He could have stayed in the warmth of the restaurant he works at, sipping hot coffee and waiting for me to figure something out. He could have simply said "Its way too cold and it would take me several hours to get to you. There's no point." But he didn't question it. Not once. My husband, my frustrating, stubborn as mule, sometimes aggravating husband, began walking in subzero weather to get to us. I told him he was stupid and he should just stay there, that he could get severe frost bite from not wearing enough layers, that he could actually, legitimately DIE from exposure.
I wasn't exaggerating.
Thankfully he only had to walk a half hour before we figured out that we could drive the car still. We just had to watch the gauge to make sure it stayed within a certain temperature. I drove to pick him up, he bought me and the kids hot chocolate at the gas station, and after 3 hours and several stops to cool off the car, we finally made it home.
I want to go off topic for a moment here to say that first degree frost bite seriously feels like someone smashed your toes with a sledge hammer when it begins to thaw. There were no serious injuries and after some hot tea, cocoa, apple cider, and coffee, warm cuddles on the couch, and turning the thermostat up to 80 degrees, we were all feeling much better.
Once the entire ordeal was over, I thought about the sacrifice my husband made for me. He knew I needed him and he was willing to risk his own life for me. In all honesty, I could have been dead before he got to me. But that didn't matter.
But then I wondered to myself, would I have done the same thing? Of course, I never would have risked the kids. But if it had been just me, would I have attempted to walk the five miles to get to him in the subzero weather if he needed me? In a heart beat.
So then I think back to that question I asked myself before, "What would my life be like without him?"
What would I have done if I'd been single, sitting on the side of the road in subzero weather with a busted radiator hose? Truthfully, I would have ended up calling 911. My Dad would never have heard his phone ring, there are no 24 hour taxis in Racine, and my best friend lives over 2,000 miles away. There was nothing else I could have done.
I would have been utterly alone.
I can't explain what it feels like to know that someone is willing to actually die for you. Its something we talk about, a romantic notion that's highly fictionalized in stories. But real life?
I imagined different people in my life being in my situation and I try to think if I would have braved that weather for them. My kids? Without a doubt. My best friend? You bet. My Dad? My Step-Mom? Yes and yes.
So maybe that's what love really is. Its not doing what ever it takes to make someone happy. Its knowing that that person needs you and doing whatever it takes to get to them. Its braving the worst sort of storm so that you can hold them because they're panicking and scared. Its wanting to take the pain that they feel and bear it yourself because you can't stand to see them cry.
Love is not a "feeling." Love is not something that falls into your lap. Love is not Chunky Monkey ice cream.
Love is an infuriating man who is a pain in my ass on his good days, but willing to stupidly kill himself for me on my worst days. He's not my soul mate, he's my protector, my strength, and my partner.
And I love him for that.
My very first thought when someone asks this question is to immediately respond with "Baby don't hurt me. Don't hurt me. No more."
Night at the Roxbury? Haddaway? Saturday Night Live? Anyone? Well, I thought it was funny.
Seriously though, its a common question with a very complicated answer. Unlike the answer to the ultimate question of life, the universe, and everything, it is not 42.
You can ask the question in several different ways.
Philosophically. What is love in the grande scheme of the universe? What does it really mean to us, to our very souls?
Physically. How do you actually feel when you are in love? Is it a specific sensation?
Psychologically. What changes inside your head when you finally make that connection to someone special, and how is it different from a "crush? How do you know when you're in love?"
When I was a young girl in my early teenage, hormone driven years, I thought I knew exactly what love was. Love was when you got that tingly sensation in your whole body when you were around someone you liked. It made you act goofy and want to do anything to make that other person happy.
Of course, my parents were divorced and had both been remarried a few times. So I honestly had nothing to base this theory on.
When I was in my early twenties, I had a completely different outlook on love. I was less optimistic and theorized that love was a chemical reaction that could be reproduced by eating large quantities of Chunky Monkey ice cream while taking a long bubble bath and reading a really good book.
Of course the end result of that is going to bed alone and dreaming of the brawny hero of your romance novel and gaining a few pounds in your thighs. It wasn't exactly a suitable alternative.
Being single is a lonely feeling. Especially the older you get. Its like there's this deep seeded need for another half of you that's been ingrained in your soul. According to ancient Greek myth, humans originally had four arms, four legs, and two heads. The god Zeus was afraid of the strength of the humans, so he split them as punishment for their pride. The halved humans were in misery and longed for the lost pieces to their bodies. Its said that when they one day found their other half, it was as if they just knew, and they found eternal happiness.
Maybe this is the reason for our lonely despair.
But if the story is to be believed, that would mean that love is something that happens to us. Its something that just falls into our laps. Its a lovely and romantic notion. Two people walking along a busy street one day and they bump into each other. Eyes meet, they smile, and they just.....know. Its beautiful.
But its hardly logical.
As a romance writer, its almost sacrilege to admit that the concept of soul mates is not something I believe in. Its just....unrealistic. Real, honest to goodness love, is not something you fall into, its not something that Ben and Jerry's can package in a little cardboard container, and it isn't something you can find inside a paperback.
So then what exactly is love?
As a married woman, there have been moments in my marriage where I've looked over at my husband and wondered "What would my life be like without him?" Of course, having that question in my heart would leave me with this sense of guilt. After 10 years of marriage, I'm not supposed to wonder this. I'm not supposed to question my love for the man I pledged to spend the rest of my life with. But I still do. Am I really in love, or is this just a comfortable situation that benefits both parties?
We've had our share of ups and downs. We even had a moment a few years ago where I was absolutely sure that we wouldn't make it through. I left him. I packed up my bags, grabbed my laptop, and just left. Of course, I came back. He's a stubborn fool who didn't accept no for an answer and he wore me down. But I'm glad I came back. Honestly, I can't survive without him. I think I forgot how.
But that's not love.
Then something happened to me last night. In the middle of Wisconsin's second "polar vortex" this year, our car suddenly decided to blow a radiator hose. It was 8 pm and my kids and I were on our way to pick up my husband from work. The wind chill was around -30 degrees and here we were, sitting by the side of the road in the middle of nowhere, freezing. I frantically call my husband and beginning screaming incoherently into the phone that I had no idea what to do. A panic attack was fully underway as he began telling me over and over to calm down.
I should mention now that I don't do well thinking under extremely stressful situations.
While my scattered thoughts were on how to get home and if my kids were warm enough, my husband's first action was to begin walking. He could have stayed in the warmth of the restaurant he works at, sipping hot coffee and waiting for me to figure something out. He could have simply said "Its way too cold and it would take me several hours to get to you. There's no point." But he didn't question it. Not once. My husband, my frustrating, stubborn as mule, sometimes aggravating husband, began walking in subzero weather to get to us. I told him he was stupid and he should just stay there, that he could get severe frost bite from not wearing enough layers, that he could actually, legitimately DIE from exposure.
I wasn't exaggerating.
Thankfully he only had to walk a half hour before we figured out that we could drive the car still. We just had to watch the gauge to make sure it stayed within a certain temperature. I drove to pick him up, he bought me and the kids hot chocolate at the gas station, and after 3 hours and several stops to cool off the car, we finally made it home.
I want to go off topic for a moment here to say that first degree frost bite seriously feels like someone smashed your toes with a sledge hammer when it begins to thaw. There were no serious injuries and after some hot tea, cocoa, apple cider, and coffee, warm cuddles on the couch, and turning the thermostat up to 80 degrees, we were all feeling much better.
Once the entire ordeal was over, I thought about the sacrifice my husband made for me. He knew I needed him and he was willing to risk his own life for me. In all honesty, I could have been dead before he got to me. But that didn't matter.
But then I wondered to myself, would I have done the same thing? Of course, I never would have risked the kids. But if it had been just me, would I have attempted to walk the five miles to get to him in the subzero weather if he needed me? In a heart beat.
So then I think back to that question I asked myself before, "What would my life be like without him?"
What would I have done if I'd been single, sitting on the side of the road in subzero weather with a busted radiator hose? Truthfully, I would have ended up calling 911. My Dad would never have heard his phone ring, there are no 24 hour taxis in Racine, and my best friend lives over 2,000 miles away. There was nothing else I could have done.
I would have been utterly alone.
I can't explain what it feels like to know that someone is willing to actually die for you. Its something we talk about, a romantic notion that's highly fictionalized in stories. But real life?
I imagined different people in my life being in my situation and I try to think if I would have braved that weather for them. My kids? Without a doubt. My best friend? You bet. My Dad? My Step-Mom? Yes and yes.
So maybe that's what love really is. Its not doing what ever it takes to make someone happy. Its knowing that that person needs you and doing whatever it takes to get to them. Its braving the worst sort of storm so that you can hold them because they're panicking and scared. Its wanting to take the pain that they feel and bear it yourself because you can't stand to see them cry.
Love is not a "feeling." Love is not something that falls into your lap. Love is not Chunky Monkey ice cream.
Love is an infuriating man who is a pain in my ass on his good days, but willing to stupidly kill himself for me on my worst days. He's not my soul mate, he's my protector, my strength, and my partner.
And I love him for that.
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