Balance

The night before we left Missouri to return home to Alabama, a 12+ hour trip, thankyouverymuch, both of my children decided that sleeping was for sissies and that screaming their lungs out was what all the "cool" kids were doing. Tate took the first shift with Carson, trying to calm him. After over an hour, I reluctantly went in to rescue Tate since I could hear the tone in his voice getting angrier by the minute. He seemed both relieved and irritated by my rescue attempt, but I think just my presence helped to settle both Tate and Carson.

I was able to return to bed, and Tate finally got Carson to sleep about an hour later and returned to bed. Literally within seconds of lying down, Ella started fussing. I heard Tate mutter "DAAAAAAAAAAAAMMMMMMMIIIIITTTTTT," under his breath, and since he'd just spent the last two hours with Carson, I got up with Ella to calm her. She finally fell back to sleep after what seemed like four hours, but was probably something like 20 minutes.

Being a person who desperately needs her beauty sleep, I was so incredibly pissed when after about 30 minutes, Ella decided to wake up again. This time I muttered something (NOT under my breath) about throwing her out the window and letting her fend for herself.

"At least it will be quiet in here and we can finally sleep," I huffed.

Sensing my obvious frustration (Tate is quick like that), he offered to take this shift with Ella. Unfortunately, she wanted only Mommy and Mommy's boobies to fall back to sleep. I ended up feeding her and getting her back to sleep around 3 AM, an hour before our alarm was set to go off.

Both Tate and I were exhausted on our drive home. Even the tiniest of irritations could have sent each of us over the edge. Somehow, we were able to take turns having our own tantrums while the other remained calm, cool, and collected.

Tate and I seem to know how to balance the other's mood. He (usually) seems to know when I'm at my wit's end and ready to snap. Even when I adamantly deny needing a break, he'll take over kid duty or cooking duty or whatever duty, and let me simmer down. The same thing is true when he is obviously about to lose it. I sweep in, take over, and give him the much needed break. Often, I feel somewhat resentful when I have to be the sane one, since I spent the majority of everyday attempting this sane facade. I suspect he feels the same resentment when he's just returned from a stressful day at work and immediately has to take over when he walks in the door and finds me teetering on the edge of chaos.

Somehow we maintain this completely necessary balance. We're a good team, Tate and I.

Reminiscing

The other day when I was finishing up the final post about how Tate and I came to be, I read through several pages of old emails that we'd sent back and forth.

I copied a few of them and re-emailed them to Tate with a note saying something about "remember when you used to write me these sweet emails."

That night, we reminisced about the things we used to do in early love.

"Remember when we could sit and just stare at each other for hours?"

Oh yeah. I do remember.

"Remember when we used to talk for hours on the phone and never run out of things to talk about."

Yeah (said dreamily).

"Remember when we didn't fart in front of each other?"

[Insert Beavis and Butthead laughing]

"Remember when you didn't nag me so much?"

Ahh, those were the days.

"Remember when I didn't mind it when you touched me?"

[Sigh]

"Remember when we would rather do it instead of sleep?"

[Verrrrry heavy sigh]

"Remember what is was like before kids and we could sleep in, leave at a moments notice without packing for an army, or when our lives weren't dictated by naps?"

Meh. This life is far better.

***********

I currently have very limited access to a computer. I last checked my email on Saturday at 3:30, cannot view my site on this computer, and am having severe withdrawal symptoms that include interacting with people face-to-face rather than on the computer.

See you all in a few days.

In The Beginning, There Was Beer. And Lots of It. Part 3 of a Love Story

Need to catch up? Part 1 is here. Part 2 is here. The prequel to all this is here.

Tate and I began emailing back and forth. Our email topics included thrilling subjects such as hockey, the weather, and our weekend plans. Nothing romantic, just friendly get-to-know you kind of stuff. In November, I was surprised to get a call from Tate inviting me to a party with his friends that he was coming back to Missouri for. Luckily my very busy social and hot date calendar wasn't already filled (ha!) so I jumped at the chance to go and spend the weekend with him.

There was never an awkward moment between us. He was kind and considerate, always making sure to introduce me and (not surprisingly) keeping me well supplied with beer. A lady never kisses and tells, but since I've never been accused of being a lady, lemme tell ya, he was an excellent kisser. And that's all I have to say about that.

I told my mom after I got home, that I thought he'd be the guy I would marry.

Here's the email he sent me after the weekend. I have saved every email from him from November 9, 1998 until now.

Jenny, Hello and good morning. I am glad to hear you had a good weekend, because I had a wonderful time. It was so good to finally get to see you after so long. The only negative to the weekend is the fact that it went so fast. I did not want you to leave on Sunday. I guess that is a bit selfish, but I enjoyed your company. It's good news your drive back went well. Thank you so much for doing all the driving this weekend. [My friends] started in on me soon after you left, but it was expected. I knew they were just chomping at the bit to rib me while you were there. I am surprised that they didn't tease you anymore then what they did. My flight was quick and painless mostly because I slept the entire flight. I hope you do call this week, but if I have not heard from you don't think you are off the hook because I may have to call you. I work second shift all this week 3p-11p. I usually get home around midnight my time. Jenny thank you again for coming to Rolla this weekend I had a great time. Talk to you soon. Tate

Within 10 days, the emails included words like "darling" and "sweetie."

It took very little time for us to become a couple. Whenever he could, Tate came back to Missouri and we spent time together. In January, I flew to Knoxville. By February we decided that when I graduated that May I'd move to Knoxville so we could be together.

Even with my lackluster long distance relationship history, I knew that this time was different. We just WERE meant to be.

Reading through the old emails makes me feel that butterfly, ooey gooey, sloppy in love drunk feeling. I miss that.

This concludes only the beginning of our love story. There are many, many years to go.

***********

In reference to yesterday's post about my multiples names, I am somehow not offended when my blogging comrades call me Jen. I just don't like it when I've recently been introduced to someone (as Jenny or Jennifer) and they just start calling me Jen.

There. I feel better now.

Prequel to My Beer Soaked Love Story

Before I can go further in my beer soaked early romance with Tate, I have to 'splain a bit about my history with boys and long distances.

Prior to Tate, I'd had two "serious" relationships. Two relationships that at the time seemed like the be all, end all. I'd never "love" another person kind of relationships. Funny to look back and remember how real that love felt, but how it wasn't really real. Does that make sense?

So my first boyfriend was Brice (real name). He and I dated my sophomore, junior and senior year of high school. During those years we were inseparable. My senior year, he went away to college. It seemed that my life would end without our constant companionship. He wrote me letters nearly everyday, putting an upside down stamp on every envelope as a way to say "I love you." Ahh. (Actually I think an upside down stamp means the country is in trouble or something like that. Or I just dreamed that up and have accepted this little bit of info as fact. Either way.)

I went to visit Brice once my senior year and to check out the college. Of course, I had plans to attend the same university where we would could be together all the time and alienate ourselves even more. Whee! While visiting, we got engaged in his room at the fraternity house. Ahh. I was a senior. We got engaged. As in engaged to be married. And I was a senior. You know, in HIGH SCHOOL.

By the end of my senior year, thank God I came to my senses and realized I was sick of this long distance relationship business and having to spend hours yammering about NOTHING on the phone and getting seriously sappy letters every few days. And the thought of getting married for all of time and eternity made me want to hurl. I had beer to drink, boys to kiss, and a LIFE to pursue.

So I broke up with him the day after he took me to my prom. I'm a sweet gal like that.

While on spring break in South Padre Island, TX several years later, I met a boy who lived in Cincinnati, OH. Jerry was his name and we were instantly in love. Ahh. Really it was just lust, spiked with a whole lotta tequila shots over the border in Matamoros and beer bongs on the beach. After spring break ended, we continued our relationship for nine months. My parents thought he was an immature dweeb, my friends wondered what the hell was wrong with me. I wonder now what the hell was wrong with me, too, since he was a dip shit. We traveled back and forth between my hometown and Cincinnati, talked on the phone for hours on end, and I made plans to move there to go to graduate school. I only filled out one application to graduate school in Missouri, but five in the state of Ohio.

A few days after visiting me at Christmas, he broke up with me over the telephone. See? Dip shit. Jesus and Mary were smiling on me, though, and I was luckily accepted to the one Missouri graduate school to which I'd applied. Moving to Ohio to attend grad school, eight hours from home, with no boyfriend would have sucked big hairy donkey balls.

This history with long distance relationships made me leery of Tate. With him living in Knoxville and me living in Missouri, I couldn't imagine how this would work.

Stayed tuned.

Let's Play a Game! Incredibly Helpful or Nagging and Maniacal?

Let's just say that a certain wife, a very organized and seasoned professional wife/mother/domestic engineer, had plans on a Saturday, leaving a certain husband in charge.

What if this wife offered a few suggestions to make this husband's job of caring for two children easier and more efficient? Having lots of experiences with trial and error, she'd figured out the best procedures to complete the daily tasks related to childcare.

Situation 1: Diaper Changes

Soon after Carson is awake, he needs a diaper change. (As in: as soon as he's out of his crib.) He will fuss and vehemently deny a wet diaper, but it must be changed nonetheless. If the diaper isn't changed, you'll find a giant pee mark on the sofa (making more work later).

When Carson protests later on in the morning about needing another diaper change, it's just easier to bring a diaper and the wipes to wherever he's playing and change him there.

Situation 2: Breakfast

Carson eats out of the yellow bowl because it's sides are high enough that he can actually scoop cereal onto his spoon rather than all over the table and floor (making more work for later.)

He prefers to eat off of the green spoon, but not the green spoon with yellow dots. The plain green spoon. If you give him a red or purple spoon, he'll yell (LOUDLY) and throw the spoon of the floor (making more work for later).

Carson likes Honey Bunches of Oats (1/3 of a bowl...no more than that, it'll just go to waste) and a tiny bit of Kashi Go Lean Crunch. He also gets half of a banana, sliced bananas on his cereal. Eventhough he used to eat bananas without slicing them, now he won't. If you just give it to him without slicing it, he'll smear it on the table and get banana between his fingers and eventually in his hair (making more work for later).

Ella gets 3 tablespoons of oatmeal mixed with the remaining half of Carson's banana, mashed well with a fork. If it's really dry, mix in 1 ounce of formula. You can make just one ounce by mixing just 1/2 scoop of the powder and 1 ounce of water. Use the water from the refrigerator since it's filtered. It's really easy to measure an ounce of water in the blue (or purple) Gerber cup.

Situation 3: Loading the dishwasher

The kids' utensils go in the basket on the top rack. If they're put in the basket on the bottom rack, they'll fall out during the wash cycle (making more work for later).

The bowls go in the back of the top shelf. If they are put in the front part of the rack, they flip over during the wash cycle and don't get washed properly. There ends up being dirty dishwater and nasty food chunks in the bowl (making more work for later).

Situation 4: Getting dressed

Don't ask Carson what he wants to wear! He'll change his mind about thirty trillion times and throw a mongo fit. Just pick out an outfit and put it on him.

The clothes on the right sides of both of their closets are the ones that fit, not the clothes on the left side. Those are too big.


*********
Incredibly helpful suggestions? A certain husband would benefit from and appreciate these ideas.

OR

Nagging and maniacal? A certain wife has deep seeded control issues.

(I'm not saying that a certain wife actually offered these suggestions, this scenario is purely hypothetical.)

In The Beginning, There Was Beer. And Lots of It. Part 2 of a Love Story

Now where were we? If you need to catch up, here is part 1.

Here's a quick recap...wedding, he thinks I'm cute, I think he's cute. Got it?

So after the rehearsal, we went to a swanky joint for dinner. Unfortunately it didn't work out that Tate and I were seated at the same table. Luckily, though, I could see him sitting at the next table. We made eye contact a few times and smiled. I didn't have butterflies, but I did like the attention.

The next day was (not so surprisingly) the wedding. Following the joining of two hearts (gag me), the wedding party rode in a limo to the reception at yet another swanky locale. We drank champagne on the drive there. Mere sips of champagne make me chatty. Too much makes me drunk.

Thank goodness it was a short ride.

I was definitely feeling happy when we arrived at the reception. After the dinner and garter/bouquet/cake cutting business (that included another glass of champagne), it was time to part-ay. At the beer table stood Tate, all alone. Feeling confident and somewhat buzzed, I marched over to him.

It felt like hours that we stood at that beer table talking. He was very friendly, introducing me to all of his friends and making sure I was never, ever without beer. I learned that he was a chemical engineer and lived in a far, far away land called Knoxville, TN.

"Damn," I thought to myself. Why can't boys who like me and that I like back ever live close-by? (Next week, I'll tell you all about my history with long distance relationships.)

We had a great time that night, drinking, talking, and dancing. After the reception, we headed to a local bar with a group of his friends to drink more beer. Luckily we didn't stay long or I probably would have passed out before the most exciting part of the evening...Tate invited me back to his hotel room. Normally I wouldn't go back to a hotel room with a boy I'd just met, but we'd been having such a great time, I didn't want it to end. And I was hoping for some major making out.

Back at his hotel room, we sat on the bed and chit chatted some more. And then it happened...the most exciting part of the evening. He turned on Sports Center. We sat and watched Cardinals highlights. Turns out, Tate was a gentleman.

I realized he wasn't going to make a move, so I knew it was time for me to go home. I called my sober brother to come pick me up. Tate asked for my phone number and email address before I left.

I figured that this would be the last I'd see of him. After two previous failed long-distance relationships, I wasn't eager to pursue something like that again.

But Monday morning, there was an email from him. And almost everyday after that.

Stay tuned for details from our first date and how we became inseparable.

In The Beginning, There Was Beer. And Lots of It. Part 1 of a Love Story

I adamantly deny stealing the idea to tell the fairytale romance of Tate and I from Casey. No way. I stole this idea from Schnozzfest who did this last year for NaBloPoMo, thankyouverymuch.

The summer of 1998 was a good one. I had just moved back home after having lived on my own for the past five years in order to save money. It was surprising fun to be back at home, not annoying or limiting at all. That summer, I was in grad school and the summer session of grad school was light on both coursework and clinical work. Easy peasy. I knew to enjoy this since this would be my last summer before becoming a full-fledged working adult.

I hadn't had a boyfriend at this time for several years and was actually completely content being on my own. No, really! I was! I had plans to complete and internship in Kansas City and hopefully get a job there (or maybe in St. Louis-I wasn't sure where.) The possibilities for my future were endless!

This was also the summer my best friend from high school, Avery*, was getting married. She'd asked me to be a bridesmaid. The day before the rehearsal dinner, I had a hair appointment to make me blond again. (I'd had an unfortunate stint with very dark hair that had faded to an ugly color of "mouse.") My dress for the rehearsal number was a darling little pink dress that fit perfectly, making me look thin and curvy.

I was terribly nervous to go to the rehearsal. The only person I really knew was Avery and I knew she would be busy with all this getting married stuff and wouldn't have time to hold my hand and introduce my socially awkward self to everyone. Luckily I looked like a babe (if I do say so myself) with my new haircut and pink dress. Looking good definitely helps in new social situations. Also luckily, all of Avery's friends welcomed me right away and helped me not to feel like the odd man out. It also didn't hurt that Avery's friend Julia* pointed out this usher named, Tate, who thought I was "cute."

The pink dress and blond hair had worked it's magic! I was flattered! As luck would have it, he was "cute," too.

Stayed tuned!

*Names changed to protect the guilty.

Red Ball Chase

Tate came home from work early, which is a rarity. We took advantage of the extra hours of family time since most evenings are saturated with dinner, bath time, and bedtime stories, leaving little time for conversation and play. We all went outside on the patio and the boys began their favorite game, red ball chase. After an extremely long summer, I thought I detected the slightest change in the air, signaling a hint of fall. This shift in the air felt almost magical.

I watched as Tate and Carson ran in circles, bouncing the red ball, and very immersed in this game that appeared to be so simple. They invited me to join in their game and I learned that this game had rules and technique. Sometimes you chased Carson, other times you chased Daddy. There was lots of ball bouncing, especially off of me, but I relished being included in red ball chase. I never did really understand my role in their game, but Carson, even at 23 months, knew the rules and when I broke them.

As young children are known for doing, Carson became bored and began to play with something else. Tate and I watched him as he practiced going up the stairs on the patio, ever so carefully, saying "sep! (step), sep!, sep!," as each foot touched the step below. We revelled in his ability to feel such joy in this simple activity.

The black gum tree next to our house began to fill with birds of all kinds, woodpeckers, robins, and a cardinal. Tate explained that we needed to stand very still or we would spook the birds, causing them to fly away. Carson was mesmerized by the chattering between the birds and watched, entranced, not moving a muscle for longer than I'd expect of a child his age. Eventually the birds flew away and you could see the disappointment in this little boy's face as he called, "more bir, mor bir!"

I realized, spending this unexpected afternoon with my family, that even if it was temporary, time didn't feel like it was in the way. For this afternoon, I didn't feel the constraints of responsibilities and was able to just enjoy. This once, reality didn't feel burdensome.

I never knew something so seemingly insignificant as red ball chase, steps, and birds could bring such peace. I hope I can open my eyes, grab those moments and simply be, more often.

Point, Counterpoint

Point: Tate, you always leave your socks lying around.

Counterpoint: Jennifer, you always leave multiple pairs of shoes lying around for us to trip over. In fact I just put away two pairs of your shoes. Why don't you post pictures of your shoes lying around, huh?

Point taken, Tate. Point taken.





These are the remaining two pairs of shoes that Tate hadn't put away yet, says Jennifer, sheepishly.