Not-So-Sweetest Day

Ben:

Just say no!

…to Sweetest Day.

Oh, no. A male is lobbying against Sweetest Day? He’s no romantic!

Well, before some of you readers go grabbing the torches and pitchforks and offering Kleenex boxes to Esther, allow me to explain.

If you’re in a healthy relationship, then you’ve most likely put forth time, thought, and effort to get there. We don’t (or rather should not) let perfect strangers into the most intimate areas of our lives, so naturally you get to know someone and let them get to know you in order to have a close, personal relationship with them.

How do we typically do this? First, we learn about each other. We ask questions and share meaningful details about ourselves in return. In short, we engage in honest and heartfelt conversations with one another.

The problem with words is that, even if we’re completely honest with one another, they typically don’t carry the same meaning for all of us.

For Example:

She says: “I dabble in literature and fine arts.”

The reality: She runs a rare books store, and spends every weekend in art exhibits and every evening in book clubs, writing groups, and crafting circles.

He says: “I like to watch football when I get a chance.”

The reality: He has every cable sports package known to man. He has season tickets to every local professional, college, and high school team within a 100-mile radius. He experiences clinical depression during the off-season.

 It's one thing to make all sorts of claims about oneself or to hear someone make theirs, but until you see one another in action, the words are just that: only words. Our words reflect how we perceive the world, therefore inherently have a lack of objectivity.

This leads me to another element of the familiarization process: doing. We have to witness how one another lives in and interacts with their world, because this speaks volumes about values, character, and temperament. This is where you see one another in action and measure their words against their actions. If words and actions don’t mesh, it doesn’t mean they’re a liar necessarily, it might just mean you two see the world differently. However, doing things together is an excellent crucible in which to test your newfound relationship and whether you are truly fit to be a couple.

The final element to all this and the common denominator of both words and actions is time. You’ve got to spend time getting to know each another. Time bears most things out and will help you both discover if you are, in fact, compatible and capable of existing in harmony.

Okay, now, what has all that stuff got to do with Sweetest Day?

Once you’re in a long-term relationship, spending time, having conversations, and doing things together has got to continue. Unfortunately, some people operate under the notion that once you’re together you can coast. Doing those things is strictly reserved for people in the dating stage. Still others just get plain lazy and don’t feel like putting in the effort once they’ve “won” the person they were “gunning” for. Sadly, this neglects the other person’s needs for those things and the relationship languishes.

That’s where these silly holidays come into play.

Instead of consistently meeting the needs of their partners, these lazy relationshippers opt, instead, to spring for tokens of affection on romantic holidays. They believe that a prettily wrapped cardboard box filled to the brim with sugar, chocolate, and nuts will be able to take the place of these crucial relationship elements. Instead of routinely nurturing their relationship with time, acts, and words, they try for these grand (or even not-so-grand) romantic gestures, expecting it to make up for the negligence of the other 364 days.

A neglectful partner buying token gifts on romantic holidays for their lonely partners is akin to the early European settlers giving the Native Americans shiny beads in exchange for acres of land and natural resources.

In short, if you settle for a box of chocolates instead of being treated well on a regular basis in a relationship, you’re being ripped off.

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Esther:

When Ben and I were getting to know each other, he made the unfortunate mistake of saying he was a romantic.  I say "unfortunate" because the very word romantic launched me into a diatribe about what's wrong with the notion of romance.  For those of you who know anything about Myers Briggs personality typing, I'm an ENFP, and the reputation we ENFP females have is that we are paradoxically quite romantic and yet stubbornly unimpressed by displays of "romance."

I'll explain.

Imagine (A) your typical Casanova, who has perfected the art of romance.  His well-oiled voice and hair have seduced many a woman, and he always has roses and chocolates on hand.  He can recite pretty phrases at a moment's notice, and never lets a holiday pass without a flourish of gifts and songs scientifically designed to reduce his lover to putty.

I have actually heard - and observed - that some women respond favorably to this sort of cookie-cutter treatment, and it baffles me.  Would you want to be no more than the current stand-in for this narcissist's imaginary lover, knowing that when he moves on or cheats on you, he will give identical flatteries to the next woman, and the next?

Now, for contrast, imagine (B) your typical mouth-breathing American male (I said typical *mouth-breathing*, because I don't think all males are this way).  While it's true he's more honest, he also completely misses the spirit of romance, to the point that, when he manfully tries to execute romantic occasions, well - bless his heart - it's almost painful to watch:

Him (checking his watch with a sigh): "You almost ready? The dinner reservations are for 7:00. How long does it take to fix yer hair, anyway?"

Her (emerging from the bathroom, wearing a new dress): "I'm ready now. How do I look?"

Him (grunting): "Fine. Oh, and here's a card and some flowers. Now c'mon, let's go."

Having only come into contact with Column A and Column B type men, I'd decided the mouth-breathers were disappointing but at least more authentic than the Casanovas.  Therefore, despite my need for romance, I'd determined to ignore my occasional pining, and beg whatever man I ended up with to just please, for God's sake, ignore all romantic occasions (because he was going to botch them anyway).

Thankfully, I am wrong once in awhile, and have discovered there is at least one more Column.  A man in Column C is not boxed in by romantic occasions, and will treat his woman so well on any given Thursday that she does not starve until the next Valentine's or anniversary bone is thrown her way.  He'll take time for a simple walk with her some evening, and during that walk he'll remember something funny from the early days of their relationship, and he'll tell her how his life feels now that she's in it.

The Column C kind of guy will notice his girl having trouble with something, and he'll quietly find a solution for it, not for her praise, but just for the pleasure of making her life better.  He'll stop everything when he catches her looking just so, and he'll tell her she's beautiful.  He'll listen when she talks, and love the things that make her who she is, despite the down sides of some of her traits.

This is real romance, in my opinion.  It's an attitude, not a special occasion; a journey, not a destination.

On the off chance that a mouth-breather has somehow read this blog post, however, and you now feel less than adequate because you don't know how to be a Natural Romantic, it's okay.  Go buy some chocolates.  Today is your day.

Beware of Momzillas! (And why you don't want to be one!)

Ben:

We have teenagers. This means dates, dances, roller coaster rides of emotions, etc. We have solid relationships with them and are able to communicate back and forth about their personal lives. This puts us in a good position to advise, but to do so at a comfortable distance.

So, being a new inductee as a parent to teenagers in the dating world, I learned of a rather peculiar phenomenon – Momzillas.

I believe parents should keep a comfortable distance from their kids’ dating lives. (It feels strange to say “dating,” considering they’re still kids, but I digress…)

What do I mean by “comfortable distance”?

I’m not suggesting parents leave their credit cards on the table, vacate the house, and tell the young couples to have at it. However, I do think that parental involvement needs to end at the front door. The politics of school romances need to play themselves out. School is not only where kids get their scholastic educations, it’s also where they get their social training. Young couples get together and break up. There’s unrequited love, unfaithful boy- and girlfriends, grand, stupid gestures, and horrible poetry – and it all unfolds in the little social Petri dishes known as middle and high schools. The point is, they work it out amongst themselves (or at least they should).

It’s maddening as a parent to hear the litany of social developments in a given school day:

“Greg said that Marsha saw Bobby holding hands with Erica after she just got done passing a note to Lisa to pass to Suzie to pass to Brad that said, 'BFF’s Forever? Circle Yes or No!'”

What’s even harder is when your kid is the one being rejected or treated poorly.  It’s so difficult to not get caught up in all the drama and to not step in and deal with things personally. I mean after all, it’s been your job to look after them so far; doesn't that include intervening in their love lives?

Absolutely. Not.

This is where Momzillas come in. I’ve witnessed (first- or second-hand, I won’t say), control-obsessed parents who cross healthy boundaries for the express purpose of meddling in their teenagers’ romantic affairs. I don’t mean buying Haagen-Dazs ice cream, renting chick flicks, and having a swearing-off-boys evening after a tough breakup. The Momzillas I refer to assert themselves into children’s domains, applying adult-level pressure to young people situations. For example, I’ve heard of grown women pressuring teenage boys to date their daughters, or those same grown women contacting a girl that rejected their son to ask why. I’m sure it’s a common occurrence, but to me that makes it no less creepy. In addition, it adds a whole new level of completely unnecessary drama. School relationships are complicated as it is without some forty-something adult getting in the middle of it.

Why these people do this, I’m not sure. I suspect there is any number of reasons they behave the way they do, but I’m certain they’re unhealthy. You don’t give your kids the chance to find their own way if you’re involved in every aspect and nuance of their lives. They’ll be ill-equipped when they are facing things on their own for the first time. There’s a season for control and a season to let go, and this period falls in between.

Let me be clear: I’m not suggesting a total hands-off approach – just the opposite. It's imperative you stay involved in your kids’ lives. Be at the ready with advice, consoling, and guidance. Be the safety net for them when things go awry (And yes, it's school. Things always go awry). Set good, healthy rules and boundaries, and maintain solid relationships with them. Set the example for how they should expect their prospective mates to treat them. Also, be ready to step in when things get out of control – just be sure to handle it on the adult level when you do. It’s much more appropriate to address parents when resolving romantic conflicts than to address their kids.

So, in short, don’t be a Mom- (or Dad-) zilla.

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Esther:

Now, there are some issues I struggle with, and some I don't.  Let me tell you why becoming a mom-zilla is NOT a tendency I have to fight against.


1.  It sends the message that my kid isn't much of a catch.

"I can't believe that boy you've had a crush on broke your heart by asking out another girl!  What a jerk!  Well, I bet if you wear this and we do your hair tomorrow, he'll notice you then..."

If I were to treat my daughter like this, I think I'd be saying that (A) she'll never find someone who's wild about her, so she should settle for someone who isn't into her, and (B) he's somehow a jerk for just not requiting her feelings, but he's also someone we're still wasting time on, so she should totally keep chasing after jerks.  Oh, and also (C) she's a failure if she can't manipulate someone into liking her back.


2. Trying to make a teenager date my teenager is as creepy as shoving a toddler who takes my toddler's toy.

Seriously not cool.  If a kid disappoints my kid, my job is to focus on my own kid - comfort him, encourage him, and teach him coping skills for the next time someone disappoints him.  If the other kid actually *harms* my kid (as opposed to breaking my kid's heart, which, while it feels like harm, is a good learning experience), then I'm gonna take it up with that kid's parent.  But if a girl breaks my son's heart and then I confront her about it, I'm ignoring one of two important truths: I am not that kid's parent, and I am not that kid's equal.  Ignoring the former is crossing a boundary; ignoring the latter is deciding to be a bully.


3. Mixing my personal feelings that much into a teenage romance might be a red flag that I need to see a therapist.

Because, you know, I'm a grown woman, and not a teenage girl whose world will come unhinged if a teenage boy chooses someone besides me -- I mean, my daughter.

I don't expect that those first romantic interests out of the gate will end up being my children's soul mates.  Instead, I expect is that my kids will learn, as they begin dating, what sorts of people they're attracted to; which personalities work with theirs, and which don't; how they should treat someone in a relationship, and how they should expect to be treated.  I expect that I'll get the chance to guide them through the giddiness and heartache, to teach them about pacing and picking up cues, and to encourage them to find out who they are and then be patient until they find someone who fits uniquely with them.  If I conduct myself appropriately during my kids' dating adventures, I'll be a valuable resource they'll keep close even during their angst; and, at the other end of it, my kids will have a better-than-average chance at romantic happiness that lasts.

Oh!  I've just realized we've spent this post on why one doesn't want to be a Momzilla, and not necessarily how to beware of a Momzilla.  I'll keep it brief: DO NOT ENGAGE.  Do not take the bait when they act all crazy and dramatic.  Stay sane, clutch your children close, and avoid eye contact.  Eventually, they will be drawn away by the next thing that moves.

Ben would like to add here, "They'll go after the next person they imagine hurts their kid, which is pretty much everybody."  But I'm not including that because this isn't his part of the post.

Let's Eat Grandma! (Communications 101)

Ben:

A key component to establishing and keeping any relationship is the ability to convey thoughts, ideas, emotions, needs, wants, desires, intentions, and even dislikes to one another. In short, we need to be able to communicate with one another.

Humans have an entire arsenal of ways to communicate. Our verbal speech alone gives us a multitude of ways to convey meaning. The language we speak, the tone, the volume, and the pitch at which we speak can all convey a host of emotions.

Let’s try a single word for starters.

“Run?”

"Are you up for a jog? Do you run often? Do you like running marathons?"

“Run.”

"I’ve just come in from a jog. I’m exhausted. I was the one voted to go on a snack run and now I’m back."

“Run!”

"It’s the zombie apocalypse! There’s a guy with a chainsaw! Milli Vanilli reunited!"

Depending on how you say something, it can mean a whole host of different things. Add to that all the nuances of body language and especially facial expressions, and the ways we can communicate are limitless.

Unfortunately, all that complexity leaves us vulnerable to break-downs and mishaps. Take a misplaced or missing comma, for example.

"Let’s eat Grandma!" Instead of "Let’s eat, Grandma!"

If one absent punctuation mark can turn cute and cuddly grandchildren into matricidal (or parricidal) cannibals, think what an errant raised eyebrow or frown could do!

The problem is that we as communicators tend to make a couple critical mistakes.

1. We assume.

Oh yes, we take the first bit of out-of-context information we can get our grubby little mitts on and we run with it, baby! We are all too eager to get our underwear in a bunch because of something we were sure we’d heard our friend or romantic partner say.

“I knew you didn’t like my Mr. Rogers shirt! I saw that look you gave me. You’ve always hated that shirt. Admit it!”

Family members and people in long-term romantic and platonic relationships especially fall victim to this. They’ve spent enough time with one another that they think they’ve got the other person pegged. They work diligently as relationship Sherlock Holmeses, putting their cases together so one day they'll have an open-and-shut case about the other person's motives. They assume the other person has kept something covered up or outright lied about it, and they’re going to get to the bottom of this thing, by Jove. (And when they do, oh boy, they’re going to let them have it!)

Give your suspects the benefit of the doubt. Don’t read into things. If there’s something of genuine importance you want to know, just ask! Also, trust what they’re telling you. On the flip side, don’t play games. If someone is really trying to get to the bottom of an issue between you, and they are openly trying to work it out, be honest! Communication has to be accurate and trustworthy.

Maybe we have insecurities of our own that we’re sensitive about, and the moment we think someone’s strayed into that sacred ground, we simply go off. Truthfully (this was true in school and is still goes for all stages of life), people are too concerned about their own shortcomings to notice yours. If they happen to make an offhand remark that hits you where you’re most vulnerable, unless they’re a sociopath it was most likely a coincidence.

2. We don’t clarify.

If someone did say something that was potentially harmful or revealing, it's okay to ask them to explain what they meant (provided you’re not being aggressive about it). It’s also okay and even a good idea to let them know what you thought they said. So much of what we say to one another is lost in translation. For instance, a person who learns English as a second language will look truly perplexed when you say it's raining cats and dogs. We all have different backgrounds and influences on our lives, and we each have a collection of unique experiences; so, there’s no way we all can understand what each other is saying 100% of the time. It’s not a sign of stupidity to ask someone to clear something up – in fact, it will show them you’re truly interested in what they said. Where the three most important words in close relationships are “I love you,” I’d say the close runners up are, “I don’t know.”


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Esther:


I suspect we women don't have quite as much trouble understanding men as we do making ourselves understood.  This isn't entirely our fault.  After all, women have traditionally been supposed to hang back a little, let men approach, not lay out our naked feelings to be rejected or condemned.  We resort instead to an intricate system of cues, hints, and code words.  We do this even among ourselves, which is kinda silly; if you can't be completely honest with another woman, who can you be honest with?

It's possible, I think, to layer yourself in so much camouflage that you start to believe your own CodeSpeak, or at least to lose touch with the truer words underneath.  Consider the few samples below as a Public Service Announcement to women who'd like to rediscover what they're really saying, and to men who have no clue.

"Nothing." (To the infamous question, "What's wrong?")

A. I'm not okay, but I'm afraid talking about it right now would make it worse.

or

B. I'm not okay, but I can't tell if you're really concerned; I'd feel better if you'd press the issue so I know you care. If you don't press the issue, I'll be more guarded with you the next time nothing's wrong.

"Does this make me look fat?"

I'm feeling insecure and need reassurance. For the love of God, reassure me. Quick.

"I'm sorry."

A. I'm sorry.

or

B. I'm pacifying you.

"I love you."

Now you say it, too.

"No, go ahead. Enjoy yourself."

...if that's really how little you care about me. I clearly care more about you because I'm letting you go even though I don't want you to, which means I already win the fight we're going to have later about this.

At the heart of all this indirectness is the inability to trust that other person with your truth...and that's a red flag, no?

It could be because that person hasn't engendered trust. Maybe you've tried honesty and gotten shot down. If that's the case, the relationship might need some examination. On the other hand, maybe that person has proven him/herself quite safe, but you just can't make yourself say what you mean. If that's what's going on, well, you should probably sit down with yourself and have a long discussion. (Ben's influence is responsible for my recent advice-giving, btw.)

I've been guilty of saying things I didn't mean, and still do it around those few unsafe people I'm stuck interacting with for various reasons.  Hey, it's scary to say the real things underneath. When you're unclear and someone hurts you, you can at least hold onto the hope they did it accidentally.  It's much harder to recover after you've succinctly exposed your deepest vulnerabilities and someone tramples all over them. It only takes a few hurts of that nature to become an expert in CodeSpeak, for survival's sake.

After finding a few relationships where I can free-fall into honesty, I've found truth to be so addictive that it's irritating to have to hold back now. Personally, I think it would be entertaining to start a truth movement. I think "let's just be friends" should be replaced with "I can't imagine dating you," and "let's agree to disagree" is ousted by "shut up about it, you're ****ng me off!"

The world isn't ready for that just yet, but I think we can take baby steps. Little clarifications here and there.

So, yeah. Let's eat Grandma.

Gypsies and Hobbits

Ben:

People typically fall into one of two camps: A.) Those who love to make lists in sentences (like me) and B.) those who don't (like Esther).

The Free Spirit (or Gypsy): "Ugh, you're so controlling! You've got to have everything just so!"

The Nerd (or Hobbit): "Ugh, you're so eccentric! You live in utter chaos!"

The age-old clash of personality types plays out time and again in relationships of all sorts. Your classic "odd couple" scenario occurs when the Nerd in the relationship is preoccupied with making sure every detail in the relationship is planned (charted, categorized, numbered from highest to lowest, and ordered alphabetically), while the Free Spirit flips a coin to decide everything from what they eat to where they'll go that day.

Since I'm the resident Nerd and a Nerd expert, I'll discuss Nerds :)

The Nerd

The Nerd gains satisfaction and comfort from having an orderly existence.

Do Nerds contribute to a relationship? Absolutely, they do! They'll keep the trains running on time. Dates, places, names, and appointments are efficiently monitored. Nerds wield their Excel spreadsheets with effortless proficiency. Friends of Nerds feel well looked after, as their birthdays are remembered and their RSVP's get answered. The relationship thrives because tasks at hand get tended to, whether they're bills to be paid or projects to be accomplished - the Nerd will see it done.

Sounds great! We should ALL be Nerds, right? Uh, no. You see, Nerds don't do spontaneous nor do they embrace the new. They prefer the comfort of the familiar - even if the familiar isn't so great and even if the new is far superior. They'll cling to their tried and true ways like a squirrel to a branch in a windstorm. Extreme Nerd-like behavior can strain the relationship in a number of ways. First, the Nerd is so convinced he's thought of every conceivable angle in his planning and prep that nobody else can have anything to offer. This results in him being resistant to input from others.

The other problem is that their planning efforts have a tendency to eclipse the events themselves, so much so that the goal of the activity, whether it be fun or productivity, becomes compromised. Take, for example, the Nerd-father who plans every second of a family vacation. He drags everyone along at breakneck speed, fretting over every detail, and stressing over minutia to the point that, instead of relaxing and enjoying themselves, the family is exhausted and miserable.

Psychology of a Nerd

Nerds fear losing control. They fear that if they don't control things, the worst will happen. A maladjusted Nerd will not work well with others and is a poor collaborator. They tend to be high-strung and lose their temper when things go in opposition of their plans. In most extreme cases, they attempt to control everything and everyone around them.

How does a Nerd survive in a relationship?

In a word? RELAX.

Accept the fact that many things are beyond your control. It is a gift to be able to stay on top of things. The world needs people like that.  But you've got to know when to put down the paper and pencil, close the spreadsheet, don a Hawaiian shirt, and put your feet up. Also? You're only one person! You can't see things from every conceivable angle. Truly listen to what other people have to say - there's wisdom all around.

Finally, open yourself up to new things and experiences. Step outside your comfort zone. There is so much unpredictable fun to be had out in the world, but you'll never experience it if you don't go and try to have an adventure.


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Esther:

What makes a "Gypsy" or Free Spirit so fun is that she can turn a normal, errand-filled day into an adventure.  You might think your Saturday drive with her is to pick up milk and eggs at the grocery, but along the way you'll discover a magical, half-hidden side road full of breathtaking scenery.  You'll wander with her into a small shop full of wind chimes and incense, whose wizened proprietor makes you wonder if he will still exist, tomorrow, if you inquire about him to the locals.  You'll find a new shortcut you're going to use the next time you drive to work, and you'll enjoy an impromptu picnic in an old graveyard when she realizes it's past dinnertime.  At the end of the day, you'll have a great story to tell, but you won't have any milk or eggs.

The Free Spirit is a noticeably loving mom.  She senses the moment one of her children is upset, and she knows just the right approach to ease it, whether it's coaxing the child to share the trouble with her, or chasing the child through the house until she's caught him and tickled him into a state of laughing exhaustion.  Never having completely grown up, she's the first to dash outside with the kids to play in sprinklers or blow bubbles.  Naturally attuned to her household's pulse, she knows when it's time to break out a board game, and when it's time to let everyone do their own things.

Just as loving with her husband as with her children, the Free Spirit is exceptionally lavish with her praise, encouragement, support, and physical affection.  She can make her husband feel like the most important man in the free world, and when he despairs because a monkey wrench has been wedged into their best-laid plans, she can quickly devise a Plan B without even losing her good mood.  Best of all, did I mention the, uh, physical affection?

A Free Spirit will bring sunshine and rainbows into your home.  You will hear songs of angels in her dulcet voice, and you will weep at the beauty of her paintings.  Forest animals will gather outside the windows to glimpse her dancing from room to room.

If you think you'd like to go out and get yourself one of these Free Spirits for your own household, be aware that she does come with a few warning labels.

May Cause Dizziness
If unfinished projects, randomness, and frequently losing someone's attention give you a nervous tic, a Free Spirit may not be right for you.

Contents Under Pressure
Your Free Spirit is only easygoing until she isn't.  In fact, she stresses out probably more than you do.  This is because, everything you feel, she feels, MAGNIFIED.  When she's happy, she's really, really happy.  But when she's not, well...

Sharp Edges
Since she feels everything so strongly, when you've hurt a Free Spirit's feelings, you've really hurt her feelings, and she'll explain how you hurt her feelings - for a very, very long time.  Also, if you must box her in with parameters and deadlines, be prepared for pouting and downright grouchiness. She knows she sucks at parameters and deadlines, but she likes to pretend she was going to do that thing before you interrupted and told her to do that thing.  Now she doesn't want to do that thing anymore.

Adult Supervision Recommended
Someone's going to need to remember to move the clothes from the washer to the dryer while she's all "The Hillllls Are Aliiiive" out there.  She may be adorable and funny but she will regularly forget the daily maintenance of the children.  She'll need help with her own daily maintenance, too, unless you don't mind her dashing off late to work with mismatched socks, and driving her car down to the last drop of oil.

Objects in Mirror May Be Closer Than They Appear
Pairing a Free Spirit, or Gypsy, with someone who can remain grounded while she takes to the air - a Nerd, or Hobbit, for instance - will produce dramatic results.  Similarly to the Hobbit, a Gypsy is capable of accomplishing certain kinds of goals on her own; once she combines forces with a Hobbit, however, her possibilities are virtually unlimited.

Fish and Family Fits (or, Having Fits With Fish and Family)

Ben:

Recently, Esther and I set up our 30-gallon fish tank. You’d be surprised how much planning goes into establishing a tank. First, you have to make sure the fish have an adequate life support system, such as filters to cycle waste out of the water, a heater to maintain a mild tropical temperature throughout the year, and an air pump to oxygenate the water. You then have to treat the water by adding bacteria and removing the chlorine. Add some rocks, some decorations, and an overhead light, and you’re good to go! Almost.

Even with all the right components in place, you still need to let the tank sit for a bit to let all the chemicals, pumps, and filters do their respective things in order to be ready to receive its residents. However, you can’t throw just any fish in there. You can’t pick too many or you’ll overwhelm the tank, you can’t mix aggressive fish with passive or fragile fish, and you’ve got to choose fish that will thrive in the environment you’ve set up.

Well, we followed some great advice from Jack’s in Huber Heights (yeah, it’s a plug, sue me), and picked fish (and frogs) compatible with the tank and one another. Even following everything by the numbers, it still took time for everyone to acclimate to one another. Some fish hid in the corners of the tank while others grew uncharacteristically aggressive. Eventually, though, everyone got comfortable with one another and we have one big happy aquatic family.

What on earth does that have to do with anything? Well, that’s just fish; consider the dynamics of setting up a habitat for a family of five!

If you’ve read our previous blog posts, you know that through great effort (and support from friends and family) we were able to set up our human tank, complete with all the appropriate life support features (plumbing, power, furniture, and especially Wi-Fi). In addition, we had thoughtful conversations with the kids to make sure they were indeed comfortable with our two families merging. We took all the appropriate steps, and yet it's taken some time for everyone to find their niche in the family and the household overall. One member will need space while another feels lost in the mix. Someone isn’t happy about this arrangement or that, while others feel simply overwhelmed about the strangeness and newness of the situation.

So, is this an utter disaster? Did we grossly miscalculate? Are we DOOOMED!

Certainly not.

I’m sure this is common in most blended family situations. Even people with the best of dispositions (or kids - ours fall into this category, I’m happy to say) will find acclimating to a new family and living dynamic challenging at times; change on any level is usually taxing, even if it’s good.

So, my first bit of advice on this or any other subject is: DON’T PANIC!

[From my first blog:]

The only exceptions are:

1. You or someone near you has caught fire. Or you AND someone near you has caught fire. In either case, extinguish yourself first, then help the person near you. Trying to do so in the opposite order won’t be very productive. If the person near you wasn’t on fire to begin with, you’ll wind up catching them on fire; if they were on fire, then the two of you combined will most likely combust even faster. Come to think of it, panicking doesn’t do much good in this situation. 

2. Either a large asteroid is headed for the earth; an alien invasion force is, well, invading; or the Hadron Collider in Geneva has spawned a world-eating black hole. In any of these cases, it is perfectly acceptable for you to panic. Of course, it won’t affect the outcome, but if it makes you feel better, go for it. 

3. Finally, Milli Vanilli gets back together. Trust me, of everything I’ve mentioned thus far, this frightens me the most. I’ll be setting up a hotline. In case any of you catch wind of this world-ending event, WARN ME.

Second bit of advice: if you’re a parental unit in this situation, unless someone is clearly crossing the line, roll with things. Give everyone around you a moment to breathe. Address the nit-picky stuff once everyone’s had a chance to settle in, and, even then, consider if it's something you need to nitpick.

Third: if you’re in a relationship with another parental unit, work together! I’ve been blessed with a wife who possesses equal parts fun and common sense – an excellent combination to have when you’re dealing with pre-teens/teens. I enjoy our level of free-flowing communication and it has been invaluable in getting our household up and running.

So, how are we doing? We’re just like everyone else.  We have great days and we have not-so-great days, just like a normal family.

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Esther:

"...just like a normal family."

I'm gonna have to stop right there.  Do you know what it's like to be "just like a normal family"?  This is something I am not yet qualified to write much about because, until now, I've had no experience. In stories, when the main character's life has been a series of hardships and then that person stumbles out into a happy ending, the reader is left to assume the protagonist magically figures out how to behave in the happiness of normalcy.

Heh.

There's something I bet psychologists have always wanted to do, but of course for ethical reasons can't do, and that's to teach a young child all the wrong words for things and then watch the results. This is not far removed from my sum of experiences. Having had a childhood in which I was isolated from most worldly/pop cultural things yet regularly exposed to some harmful things, I was an odd mixture of naive and streetwise when I was set loose into the world. That acquaintance with harm and distrust of the innocuous heavily influenced the choices I made; those choices then reinforced my existing beliefs about the world. This is a typical pattern for humans everywhere.

Now, at some point, a person who has started down a broken road will reach his or her first real conscious choice.  There is more brokenness down that direction, or an easier road this way.  Unless you're a fool, you'll choose the easier road, of course...if you're self-aware enough by this point to see it really is easier.  Maybe you've traveled so long down an uneven path you've developed a permanent limp, and it would hurt to walk a smooth road.

I refused, in the quiet in-between time before I met Ben, to start down any more broken roads.  Granted, I didn't know much about well-adjusted relationships, but I knew I wanted one, and that had to be half the battle right there.  What I didn't account for was how ingrained my limp had become by the time I'd met him, and couldn't have guessed how long it would take to unlearn.

We've arrived now, in a normal, well-adjusted, healthy family, except that I keep having to learn everything.  Days stretch into weeks and my muscles grow sore as I brace myself for harm that will not come.  Words have truer meanings, tones are safe, and I laugh at myself, this fish out of water that I've become, this soldier back from the war who finds peacetime strange.  I see why so many people from dysfunctional pasts don't venture out of the familiar.  It's hard work to learn this new language of living; harder than diet and exercise, harder than anything else I've done that was good for me.  However, I'm only a month into it and I feel results.

I'm not much of an advice-giver, but this I will offer: chase after health.  Run hard after it, and tackle it, and in those recurring terrifying moments when you don't trust in it, grip it even harder.

It is the most amazing thing you will ever feel.

The Old College Try

Ben:

I'm a sucker for inspirational sports movies. Take Rudy, for instance. He's a small fry from a blue collar family who wants to make his father proud by playing football for Notre Dame. His dream is a long shot at best, given his stature, but he goes for it just the same. The movie then goes on to chronicle his journey toward his goal. It culminates, of course, in him reaching his goal (after a fashion). The movie is chock full of memorable quotes and sweeping orchestral arrangements, and, yes, it's also filled to the brim with sentimentality, but hey, it's Hollywood.

During Rudy (as well as similar movies), they play montages of the protagonist doing various things such as working out and practicing. Interwoven with those scenes are others showing repeated attempts and failures at doing various tasks to demonstrate progress (or lack of). After a few minutes of footage that has you cheering breathlessly for the hero, BAM! - he's in a position to realize his dream.

Yeah. The montage part's crap. There's nothing instant about what he did.

Goal reaching is arduous, time consuming, stressful, and even boring at times. For example, take what I endured last night. After a full day of pouring over tax accounting pages and scrutinizing every detail, I discovered late at night that I was utterly unprepared for the homework yet to be done. I experienced doubt and frustration, and, yeah, I was ticked off a bit (thank God for Esther, who talked me off the ledge, LOL).

So, why reach? If it's such a pain in the butt and there's no guarantee of success, why try at all? There are so many positive byproducts of trying to reach a goal even if you don't reach it. Take weight loss, for example. You decide you want to lose 30 pounds, so you join a Thursday night exercise group, cut some calories, and walk in the mornings. Weeks pass, though, and you lost 15 pounds instead of 30. Well, considering you began dating someone from your Thursday night group, you reconnected with an old friend on your morning walks, and you sleep better and have more energy, I'd say that even though you didn't meet your goal, you still improved your life in trying to reach it.

What can be gained if I fall flat on my face in school? Well, I've met some extraordinary people, my vocabulary is stronger, I've learned quite a bit about the world and myself, and even if I don't hit it out of the ballpark this semester, I've still got all the credits I've earned thus far, and I won't stop reaching for that next handhold on my climb up.

Understand that when you do decide to reach for something in life, there will be setbacks and frustrations along the way. Budget those in along with the extra time it may take for you to get there. It falls back to what we talked about before: tailor your expectations so you don't feel defeated when you don't teleport directly to your objective.

My problem began when I ignored my own advice, set my expectations impossibly high, and assumed a doom-and-gloom scenario all because I didn't understand how to research a tax issue. That's a V8 facepalm-worthy moment if there ever was one.

Also? I think Rudy's greatest accomplishment was not reaching his athletic goal, but rather the fact that he graduated Notre Dame with a Bachelor's degree! I didn't give that aspect of the movie much thought at the time, but now that I'm climbing the undergraduate ladder myself, I have a new-found respect for anyone who tries to better themselves through higher education.

(On a side note, thank you to all who've been joining us! We're having an absolute blast writing our blog and we hope you're getting something out of it, too.)



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Esther:

An educational feature of marriage, or of just living and working so closely with someone, is the opportunity to compare and contrast each other's strengths and weaknesses.  If you're smart (and I am), you will capitalize on the other person's strengths.  Early on, for example, I was successful in impressing upon Ben the remarkable talent he had for cooking and doing laundry.  But I digress.

I've always found it odd that both sayings hold true: "opposites attract," yet "birds of a feather flock together."  On the other hand, some people are so alike they can't stand each other, while others are so different from each other that they never learn how to relate.  Maybe one component of a successful relationship is that perfect chemical balance between similar and dissimilar.

In social settings, Ben and I tend to raise eyebrows, prompt chuckles, or elicit the comment, "Oh no, there's two of you?"  It's true we do share a remarkable number of interests, tastes, opinions, values, personality traits, and the suchlike. Therefore, it's always a little surprising to be reminded of our polar differences: his morning to my night, my spontaneity to his plans, his concrete to my abstract, my gypsy to his hobbit.  These differences are double-edged swords, each of them.  At times, we weave the perfect dance of leading or following according to whose strengths the situation requires.  At other times, we trip all over each other's feet and sit out the remainder of the song, wondering how we lost the rhythm.

[The real fun begins when we chance upon a shared trait; say, a weakness.  Ben and I are both anxiety-prone, so sometimes I talk him off the ledge, sometimes he talks me off the ledge, and sometimes we're both on the ledge together, in a display of hysteria I suspect would amuse onlookers.]

One of my husband's strengths I don't yet possess (but hope to cultivate) is his relentless pursuit of goals.  I've never before seen someone conquer goal after goal and then stare down the next goal, as if to warn it, "I'm coming for you next."  Even in those dark moments of self-doubt, his determination remains untouched.

I haven't given my goals "the old college try."  I haven't even properly fleshed them out as goals, but kept them nebulous wishes.  It would sound noble to say this was because I was too busy being a caregiver and, later, a single mother, but those life situations were probably just comfortable cop-outs.  From childhood on, I've been afraid to try.  Afraid to cartwheel and risk getting scraped.  Afraid to rebel and call down parental wrath upon myself.  Afraid to venture too far from familiar hurts.

This fear is without excuse when I consider my husband, who has seen death and the end of everything, and still got up the next morning, and the next, and the next, and didn't just survive things - he started changing things.  He's spurred me to make a few daring grabs at my own goals, little goals, yes, but goals, nonetheless.

Fear - of failure, success, humiliation, and the unknown - churns in my gut each time I reach for something I care about, but I'll keep reaching.  In time, maybe the training wheels can come off and I can go after bigger goals.  Maybe one day I'll even have the courage to stare down one of the really big ones and say, "You're next."

Not So Great Expectations

Ben:

Over the past few months, Esther and I have toiled to fix up a house and plan and execute a wedding so we could merge lives and work toward a common goal; I've labored to get into Wittenberg University; we set up the kids in a new school, merged our budgets, and completed a host of projects that seemed nigh impossible a few months ago. During those late nights of painting and moving, we fantasized about the hard work being over one day, and our life as a family beginning.  So, here we are!

Now we're juggling school and work schedules, groceries, laundry, a dog that dives out screened windows, and various multiple things with deadlines. As a result, we grouse and pine for when things were simpler. What happened? We met every goal we set out to reach. Why aren't we deliriously happy, twirling about in the mountains without a care?

Expectations can be the bane of any situation. Some of you may remember this scenario. As a kid, you asked and asked for that One Toy. Your friends had it (you heard them bragging about it all day at school). The kids on the commercials had it, and they were having the time of their lives, according to the cool voice-over guy, mesmerizing graphics, and blazing sound effects. The store shelves were lined floor to ceiling with it – a virtual monolith of fun, a temple of kid ecstasy erected so high it became the Kilimanjaro of the department store, visible from any vantage point. It permeated your very dreams.

You were told you couldn’t have it right away, that, instead, you should put it on your Christmas list. You then felt like a lovesick sailor months from home, not knowing if his true love would be waiting at the dock when he got in; but for weeks, you sacrificed. You went to bed without complaint, you strove to fly under the radar at school, and you did your best to maintain nonaggression pacts with your siblings. The exercise was draining, but, as it increased the odds your wish would be granted, you endured long days of suppressing your natural kid-like instincts.

Then the day came, and, after participating in the Christmas Day rituals and routines, you were finally awarded the gold ring, the prize, THE ONE TOY. It was indeed your Precious. At first.

At first, you had ecstatically, violently ripped off the wrapping, you'd aggressively torn open the box and cut the plastic pieces that bolted it in place. The One Toy had tumbled out of its cardboard womb followed by reams of instructions and pamphlets for even cooler toys set to release in the spring. But then you noticed something.

The One Toy was smaller than it had appeared on TV.  There was no cool voice-over guy and no snazzy sound or visual effects.  It was just you, your over-hyped toy, and a mountain of disappointment bigger than the pile of crumpled wrapping paper on the family room floor. You're still you. It didn't solve all your problems, it didn't make you the coolest kid on the block, your siblings still picked on you, your bed still needed to be made - The One Toy changed nothing except that now you no longer had The One Toy to look forward to. (Not to be dissuaded, you stuffed your mouth full of chocolate and played with your new Lego set while watching Empire Strikes Back on VHS with your family.)

This scenario plays out over and over in life. You'd think we'd learn from our childhood experiences, but time and again we play the elevated expectations game just to find ourselves flat on our backs like Charlie Brown having the football yanked away by Lucy yet again. We do this with weight loss, or getting that perfect job, or finding the right romantic interest. We get stuck in these ruts of discontent, and look to things and people to solve all our problems. A great example is the serial dater who thinks another human being will fix the broken pieces of his life, only to discover each time that the other person has her own collection of fragments. Disillusioned, both people walk away from another unsuccessful relationship. Another example is the person who diets or exercises, improving her body with the expectation that angels will descend and people will line up around the block to date her. But when she arrives, she is still herself, there is no hallelujah chorus nor famous actors looking her up, and she falls into a depression - which is what happens to all of us with lofty expectations of various life goals.

So what's the point? If there's nothing but an overrated toy and an empty box waiting for me, why get out of bed Christmas morning? Why reach? We know, of course, that it is worth it to reach, because of the good that can come of trying to improve one's life. But how does one avoid the expectation crash? First, be content! ("Boring! Boooo!") No, I mean it. Wanting what you have, appreciating where you are in life, even if life isn't all that ideal, is key to being happy.

If you've done that and are still out of sorts, then closely examine your life. There's a good chance you've got some things you need to work out, whether it's an unresolved conflict with a friend, some old issues from when you were younger, or something more serious like depression or anxiety that needs a professional's touch. (And please listen when I say this: anxiety, depression, and other things of that nature are not signs of weakness! You don't just "get over it." If you're persisting in that state, then it's either external, in which case you need to remove the cause of your pain, or it's internal, in which case you should speak to a professional. You don't just "get over" diabetes or high blood pressure, so make an appointment! We've all needed help at some point. Ok, rabbit trail over...)

Once you've got your ducks in a row, then look to improve your life. If you're looking for a relationship, find someone who shares your life goals. Lose weight because you want to reduce your risk of heart attack or stroke. Look for that better job because it's what you're called to do. Just understand that each level in life will present its own set of unique challenges, and be prepared. Also? Just because things don't look the best now, doesn't mean they will stay that way.

Remember: things aren't ever going to be as good as you think they're going to be, or as bad as you think they'll be.

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Esther:

I like how Ben doesn't tell you his inspiration for this post was my minor meltdown last night, in which I howled my certainty that this was our life now, and that we would be frantically running errands, catching up housework, and collapsing late into bed with our Maslow's needs still unmet each night until we died of old age.  I don't know how I thought a five-person household with full-time working/studying parents would be run, but I do know that "down time" has begun to take on the shimmering, mythical form of Shangri-La.

No matter how often that inner logical voice reminds me to check my expectations, though, I can't seem to regulate them.  They build to Disney World fervor when anticipating a weekend trip, and plummet to phobia-strength panic when my boss calls me into his office.  It's a track record of being wrong that extends backwards for years, and if I could convert the doggedness of these mistaken expectations into personal fuel, I'd have published several novels and founded a couple charities by now.

Thankfully, by the time I'd met Ben, my expectations for a relationship were finally pretty healthy and realistic, but I attribute that to having survived post-divorce dating.  (Really, survived, as in, "made it out alive."  If you've had to venture back out into the dating world after a long-term relationship, you know what I mean.  Crazy abounds.)  But despite knowing what my marriage can and can't (or shouldn't) provide, I still lack the ability to level set my expectations on other topics.

For the past eighteen years, for instance, I've fantasized about my Great American Dream during a monotonous stream of driving to work, coming home from work, driving to work, coming home from work. It's possible I'll wake up one day and grab the Now, in whatever form that takes, and it's also possible I'll retire without ever having taken a step toward my dreams.  Either way, it'd probably be a good idea to learn to be content in whatever state I find myself.

It's funny how things can pass you by while you're straining to see into the future, to see other things.  There were late nights, just a few months back, in which Ben and I scraped at whole rooms of wallpaper until our arms were jelly.  During those nights, all I could fix my thoughts on was our blissful future married life.  Now the future is here, and my thoughts return belatedly to the bliss right there in that kitchen full of wallpaper peels...to our laughter bouncing off long-quiet walls...to the companionable rhythm we fell into and were delighted to discover we had together.

Whether the future is as good as I hope or as bad as I fear, I hope my expectations never get so loud that I can't hear the magic happening now.

Cooler Heads Do Prevail (Also, Spoiler Alert: We Won't Be Getting New Cafeteria Food)

Ben:

Perhaps I’ve had my head stuck in books or drywall dust too long, but I just had an encounter that told me the political season is under way. A young man knocked on my door and asked if I’d support his candidate for the upcoming elections. Ugh, here we go.

Mid-term elections aren’t as bad as presidential ones, but they come close. You take a dissatisfied nation in an economic slump and you can bet your hanging chad that fur is going to fly between now and November, and most likely even after that. Here’s the problem. Mouthpieces from every side made their bones getting people to tune into their television shows, radio shows, pod-casts, blogs, books, magazines, or newspapers. The thing is, each of them, whether they are Chris Matthews or Sean Hannity, has one goal in mind: make money. Sadly, this is done by whipping us all into a frenzy. THE LIBERALS ARE EVIL! GO GET ‘EM!! THE CONSERVATIVES ARE EVIL! GO GET ‘EM!!

Ok, fine, this isn’t new. Since the advent of our political system this sort of thing has been going on. The way things should work is that we get together every couple of years, debate the issues at hand, decide who will best represent out interests, vote for them, and then go about our business. Politics used to have an off season. People’d have a chance to calm down and get on with their lives.

The problem we have now is that Hannity and Matthews are trying to sell Select Comfort mattresses and Life Lock personal security services 24/7, 365. We never get a break from all the rhetoric. Worse than that, this steady drumbeat of “the other side is bad, the other side is bad, the other side is bad” has created a serious deep divide in our country, and this how it's been done. People from each side create a faulty premise. To use a mundane example, let's say there’s a motion to hire a city dog catcher. People on one side say, “Dog catchers hurt dogs, so people who support this motion must want to hurt dogs. Bad people want to hurt dogs, ergo, people who support this motion are bad people.” Now the loudmouths have people on one side thinking people on the other side are bad people because of their stance on a political issue. Sadly, that’s where we are right now. We have many groups pointing and screaming at each other until they’re red in the face.

The problem is that the most vocal among us assign motives to the other side. “They want to take your jobs.” “They want to take away your freedoms.” “They want to hurt your way of life.” And so on. The mouthpieces (loudmouths) demonize the “they’s” and “thems” to get the “we’s” and “us’s” all riled up. The political term for this is “energizing the base.”

This has the net effect of making it socially acceptable to treat strangers badly. These “energized” people want to do their part so badly that they seize the first opportunity to confront the other side. They think they can browbeat, harass, and harangue people over to their way of thinking; which is laughable, because it will only cause their opponents to dig in deeper. It's created a toxic environment in our country in which you can’t examine issues objectively anymore.

The solution? First, avoid assigning motives to those who oppose you politically. Second, understand that all people (generally speaking) want what’s best for their country, state, city, county, village, township, etc. The major political parties in our country are like two parents arguing in front of their children about who’s right and wrong and they never let up. It's no wonder we get caught up in their fervor!

The main thing, is don’t assign values to a person you don’t know simply because they belong to a particular party or movement. Take the time to get to know others and really sit down and talk with them before spouting the latest talking points you heard on television. Perhaps if more of us acted less like sheep and more like thinking, feeling human beings, we’d be able to move forward as a truly united nation.

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Esther:

I'm not a political person.  I vote because it's one of our rights, and because women didn't start out having that right, so I feel guilty if I don't use my right, but the whole thing really bores me.  Considering how well it's been going, turning other things over to each other based on our different strengths and weaknesses (goodbye, checkbook balancing and bill paying!),  I admit I'm tempted to ignore politics altogether until voting time, at which point I'd ask Ben to be my own personal Cliff's Notes so I wouldn't have to read the class assignment.

The only election I pay much attention to is the Superbowl of elections, the presidential election, and even then I'm not watching as much for the electoral game as I am for the commercials.  Not having learned from high school class president elections, people entertain me by believing their candidates' promises.  Every presidential election, people want their guy to win because he'll have the cafeteria replaced with a mall-style food court, and we'll get the right to leave class for a bathroom break whenever we want. Whenever we want, guys!  No hall pass needed!

Then the new guy gets into office and maybe a new meal is added to our cafeteria menu rotation.  Our old hall pass system remains in place.  It's still business as usual.  We all shuffle along to our classes.  Rinse and repeat next election time.

That's the sunnier side of elections.  The darker side is, as Ben said, the Us. vs. Them, the mudslinging, the torches and pitchforks. *Yawn.* "Politics used to have an off season." Indeed. What else is on?

*Changes channel*

Be Generous With Your "I Love You's"!

Ben:

You ever see those cats or dogs who turn around and around on a bed, struggling to settle in comfortably? That’s me. I’ve completed my first week at Wittenberg University and am still having a difficult time establishing a routine. Since routines are prime components to my psychological comfort, I’ve felt a bit out of sorts lately, and my long-suffering kids have had to endure my unwarranted grousing. It also doesn’t help that I’ve abandoned the healthy eating and exercise habits I established a couple years ago. (The excuse I love to give is that it’s because of all the changes in my life, but, in truth, it’s because I love to eat, I love to cook, and I cook well, so I love to eat what I cook. Also, I believe that if you’re not eating and hydrating properly, exercise is pointless, so that’s gone out the window, too. The upshot of all this is, my clothes fit as uncomfortably as my routine, or lack thereof.) Overall, my picture is unbelievably bright. I’m married to the girl of my dreams. (That’s a tired cliché so I’ll amend. I’m married to the girl I imagined I’d be happiest with before we even met.) I’ve got a household of great kids, a Rolodex of awesome friends, and I’m working steadily toward my goal of getting a degree. Despite all this, I’ve been a bit grumpy; my sleeping and eating are off, energy is off, I’m just off.

Ok, Ben, WE GET IT, YOU’RE OFF! But here’s why this is important – when you’re off, its hard to feel like you’re in love or that you love anyone else. In fact, when you’re off, it’s easy to get inward focused and forget about the world around you, or to forget that it does not, in fact, revolve around you. It’s in these times that you’ve got to reaffirm your love for others.

I believe love is equal measures feeling and conscious choice – it’s got to be. Conscious choice is what carries you through the ebbs and dips not only in your relationship, but your personal life as well. (Also, let me clarify, relationship doesn’t have to be strictly defined as romantic; at its core, a relationship is any interaction two or more people have on a regular basis.) It’s so important that you continue expressing love even especially on bad days.

I have the unique perspective that comes from being a widower. One thing that sticks in my mind is that, after I’d learned of my late wife’s passing, my first thought wasn’t of bills, groceries, car repairs, bank accounts, or any of the other things that tend to interfere with couples’ relationships. All I could think was, "When was the last time I told her I loved her?" Was it the night before, or that morning? To this day, I can’t remember.

What I drew from that experience is this: you’ve got to tell the person you love that you do, every day. If you wait until you’re filled with warm fuzzies and surrounded by chubby winged cherubs, that time will come rarely, if ever. What’s worse is that, by not telling someone you love them, you risk sending the message that your love for them is conditional. If you’re deliberately not telling them because you’re angry, then you’re driving that point home with a nail gun. You’ve got to maintain a steady baseline of “I love you” that doesn’t rise and fall with the ever-changing chaos that is life. It can’t be "I love you if….", "I’d love you but…", and so on. By making a habit of telling the person you love how you feel every day, you show them that your devotion and commitment to them is not some fleeting emotion, whim, or fragile thing that will go away at the first sign of trouble. Heck, put a sticky note on your monitor, a reminder on your phone, something to tell you to say "I love you," no matter what is going on.

Our household shares a sort of morbid sense of humor because of what we’ve all been through. A byproduct of this is that we often say we love each other when parting ways, and laughingly follow it up with, “Just in case you die in a fiery car crash and I never see you again.” On the surface this might seem shocking or inappropriate, but, at its heart, it’s a good mindset to have. If you live and relate to people you care about with the notion that you may indeed never see them again, you may be inclined to love more, forgive more, and criticize less. 

People often incorrectly assume that dire relationship problems arise from a single dramatic cause like infidelity. In truth, relationships wither before they die, a tiny bit each day. Relationships usually die of starvation. So feed them!

But don’t read too far into this, readers; I’m addressing nuanced feelings that got me thinking. I’m madly in love with my co-author.  :)

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Esther:

Ah! Thank you, Ben, for that writing prompt-slash-launchpad for a quick rant.

You know what I hate?  Romance.

I mean false romance.  The red, pink, and white vomitus in stores during February.  The obligatory card, flowers, dinner, movie, and sex on anniversaries.  The props people in lackluster relationships buy to convince each other they're in actually good relationships.

This may just be because I'm not a fan of any forced emotion.  I detest sappy movies that may as well sport neon signs prompting audiences to "Cry Here" and "Say 'Aww' Here."  You're not doing your job right if you have to tell me what to feel.

This does, in fact, bring me back to what Ben said.  Nuance truly is a major part of our marital interaction, partly because I'm like a drug-sniffing dog when it comes to subtleties of tone of voice and body language, and partly because Ben is, too.  God forbid one of us should have a headache without disclosing it.  The other one will instantly seize upon an "off" expression or tone, and will be halfway down the road of panicky relationship examination if we aren't quickly informed as to the mere organic reason for said expression or tone.

When my husband is "off," it means he fires a few grouchy episodes into his normal routine of going above and beyond for his wife and kids.  Gee, Ben, you were a little short-tempered right before you cooked us our favorite dinner and you seemed stressed before you asked me what I needed to do to de-stress after my long workday.  I swear, I don't know how I live with you.

I'm not a fan of PDA, and I want to be careful to not turn this blog into a groan-worthy display of affection between newlyweds, but this needs to be said.  At the end of our honeymoon, my husband surprised me by lamenting that perhaps he did not give me with the romantic excursion it should have been.  After all, we didn't go to an exotic location, we didn't dress up and do fancy things, we just kicked about in our rehabbed home.  But here's why he was wrong about the lack of romance. At a restaurant one day, I had a hankering for a particular soda they didn't serve.  As I ordered something else, he excused himself from the table, and when he returned, I discovered he had actually left the restaurant, driven down the street to another restaurant, and returned with the soda I'd really wanted.  Then he looked on with confused humility while, mouth gaping, I tried to explain why I thought it was a big deal that he'd done that.  To him, it was a matter of common sense, not a romantic gesture.  His wife wanted X brand of soda.  She must have X brand of soda.  End of story.

I've experienced the outward trappings of so-called romance.  I've endured serenades, candlelit dinners, and enough roses to fill a funeral home.  I've ticked off all the checkboxes on a romantic holiday or anniversary and still felt no evidence of any specialness to the relationship, and no proof that, on this day, I was thought of with any extra consideration.  Just another Saturday, Tuesday, or what-have-you.  Meh.

I'll tell you what real romance is (to me, at least).  It's unpremeditated, or at least not staged.  It's a permeating attitude of thinking the other person really is a catch.  It's spontaneous hugs and thoughtful treatment of the person you're with, despite the fact that you had a really sucky day and you feel like crap.  If you're doing it right, your relationship can survive your "off" times.  Maybe you're doing it right if you just notice you're having an "off" time and care how that might affect those closest to you.

As Ben said, though, loving like this doesn't apply to just romantic relationships.  I went off on that tangent about romance because it's a longstanding rant of mine and I saw the opportunity to rant again.  It's what I do.

Welcome to our first blog!

Now that we've settled into our lives as much as we can given that we've got three kids, school, work, a dog, and four fish to wrangle, Esther and I have decided it's time to share our collective insanity wisdom with the world. We don't yet have a theme for the blog. As it is, we'll just share the musings that arise from the madcappery of a newly minted, blended family. Mmmm, blended minty things...

I, Ben, the husband of our married unit, am the one beginning this blog entry. After five seconds of painstakingly flipping a coin, it was decided I'd go first. I'll be discussing the where's, when's, and how's of things going on in our little corner of the universe. Esther will be doing whatever it is Esther tends to do on these things. I find it best just to stay out of her way and not ask too many questions. My husband brain, though more enlightened than most husband brains, tends to short circuit when I try to fully understand what goes on in my wife's infinitely more complex (and interesting) mind.

As most of you know, we are indeed a newly wed couple fresh off of our honeymoon. Considering we'd spent the last four months scrubbing, scraping, patching, sanding, painting, scrubbing some more, moving, planning, and moving some more, it stands to reason that, come our honeymoon week, we would collapse into a heap. We essentially spent the week like two teenagers on a sleepover. We ate copious amounts of junk food, rented every new release we could find, and played games for hours together. In short, it was glorious. (And NO, it wasn't just my idea. I KNOW what some of you are thinking and she's got gaming lust just as badly as I do, so it was with collective joy that we played our hearts out).

Anyway, after nine days of being accountable to and responsible for no one, you can imagine the shock when we took the reins of our blended household officially for the first time. It was akin to leaping onto a fast-moving treadmill holding a tray of hot cups of coffee. Bus schedules, impromptu school clothes shopping trips, and digging up pill bugs late at night were what awaited us upon our return. Gone was the sleeping until the mail lady clanked our mailbox; past was the time of calm, carefree days in which we mused about silly things and ate like royalty. No, we'd been handed a rifle and a helmet and were pushed out into the front lines. Our enemies? School forms that asked the same question over and over and over again, never-ending supply lists, and the oh-so-fun bug-digging assignment. Our dutiful kids pull their weight as much as they can, but in the end, it is we, we happy few, who must hold the line.

I shall now turn the reins over to Esther.


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I, Esther, am the wife of this married unit.  And I've discovered already that nothing can prepare you for marriage - not the well-meant advice/horror stories/anecdotes of other wives, nor libraries of books on marriage, nor even a previous marriage.  More on marriage later, if I don't forget.

Speaking of the way minds work, let not my husband convince anyone that my mind is more complex or interesting than his.  Mine is pretty straightforward, for a woman's.  It likes to focus on one and only one thing until -- butterfly!  Conversely, Ben's mind likes to start the morning with lists, spreadsheets, and pie charts, and by mid-afternoon is ready for a rollicking game of Task Juggling with breakout sessions of trivia.  By evening his mind dutifully revisits the morning's objectives and checks off accomplished tasks with satisfaction.

By that same evening, my mind has traveled from butterflies to cheese to insurance copays to cheese to iambic pentameter to gas prices to earrings to cheese to Shakespeare to coffee to what's-wrong-with-society, before finally settling in a confused jumble of where-did-this-day-go.  You see why the "who's going to start this blog" discussion took five seconds.  But I digress.

People have asked me about our honeymoon, and I scramble each time for a grand or at least respectable answer, but Ben speaks the bald truth: we slept.  We gamed.  We ate.  We watched.  And okay, that doesn't sound like a glorious honeymoon, but if you can look back into your adolescence and remember a long sleepover with your best friend in which the hours stretched lazily before you, every suggestion met with excited agreement, and every activity was pure joy - then you'll understand when I say it was perfect.

But now real life returns, with its bills, homework, and errands, and we will begin to see this play out on a daily basis, this hilarious mix of shocking similarities and stark contrasts between my husband and me - not only in our marriage, but in our parenting and family dynamic.

Like Ben, I don't know what to expect from our blog.  I only know that I must write, and he must write, so we write together now.