Category: Bryan

The Digression of My Culinary Prowess

I have always loved to cook. Even as a single woman, among contemporaries who ate take-out or ramen noodles, I enjoyed experimenting with different recipes and ingredients.

From the time I was in college until I got married I lived with other people. Sometimes it was just me and my best friend, and other times, like the summer I rented a house with four others, or the two years I lived with up to ten other women (Yes, you heard me. That’s another story), it was many. In all those scenarios, preparing a meal was a community effort.

For years my friend and I shopped together and split the grocery bill. We took turns cooking for each other, and we entertained a lot. The summer I lived with a few other gals we often shared meals together pot luck style, and the crazy two years I lived in complete insanity with far too many women, we pooled together our money hippy style and all took turns cooking dinner.

Now that I’m married, I love it when Bryan cooks with me. He’s pretty handy in the kitchen, and on many occasions is the family chef, but my most favorite times are when we cook together. There’s always loud music involved, and wine, and a little flirting. It is a time of family celebration, even if we are just celebrating Tuesday.

When Bryan travels I am lonely, but I think it mostly hits me around the dinner hour. I’m so accustomed to the plurality of the process that I seem to lose motivation when it’s just me and the kids. After three years of cooking fresh and (mostly) healthy meals for my kids, this week I finally broke down and bought a bag of frozen fish sticks and a bag of frozen tater tots.

I know it’s not the unforgivable sin to serve convenience foods to my children, and it’s not like I haven’t fed them pizza or Chinese take-out a dozen times in the last six months, but there’s just something about fish sticks that resonates in my mind as the ultimate sell-out for me. There is no community in fish sticks. There is no process in fish sticks. There is no beauty in fish sticks. I bake them, and I feel sad and lonely.

And to top it off, my kids LOVE fish sticks and tater tots, and completely cleaned their plates in five minutes. No arguing was necessary – no stalling, no counting bites or offering rewards for finishing their meal. Gulp, gulp, gulp.

Sigh.

Well, lest I become sad and depressed over processed seafood, I captured two very adorable children enjoying the bounty of fish sticks tonight in this short video. There may not be beauty in the preparation, but the consumers make it all sparkle like Christmas.

Things He Does to Say ‘I love you.”

[Is it, Things He Does? or Things He Do? or, is there really no way to make sense of that?]

We’re staying in Palo Alto this weekend, at an apartment of one of Bryan’s friends while he’s out of town. After eating some take-out Chinese, Bryan went to the store to buy milk and cereal for breakfast in the morning.

After he’d already left I remembered I needed a new box of panty liners, which I wear every day because during childbirth my vagina opened like a blooming flower and now my Kegel muscles hang like limp, forgotten spaghetti.

I called his cell and told him what I needed, and he’s like, yeah, yeah, I know, panty liners. He’s SO okay with buying my female goodies that he gets cocky about it.

Twenty minutes later my phone rings and he’s talking in a hushed and muffled voice, “So, which ones did you need again?”

“Always.”

“Yeah, I know, but there’s like a million kinds.”

“Always, with the dry weave.”

“Ah…… oh, here. In the purple box?”

“Yeah.”

“50 regulars or 40 extra long?”

“Hm, I’ll try the long.”

“Okay.”

Happy Anniversary, baby. You’re the best!

Exposed

Last night I experienced the really icky feeling of getting busted in the act.

You see, I can be really honest with my friends about what I do, I can relay a story to Bryan from the day, I can even blab about my issues on the internet – but I am still in control of the information flow. You hear what I want you to hear, and see what I want you to see. Even in all my dysfunction, I can come out of a blog post looking as good or as bad as I deem appropriate for the sake of storytelling.

But last night my ugliness was exposed in real time as the kids and I had our evening chat with Bryan over Skype with the web cam. It wasn’t anything huge, really. I simply became impatient with Ruthie over something, and cut the activity off abruptly.

Later, over an IM conversation, Bryan mentioned how sad it made him to see me shut her down so quickly.

I felt like the air had been let out of me.

My first instinct was to be defensive, make excuses, shift the blame, be the victim, accuse him of having NO IDEA what I have to deal with on a daily basis. But instead I stopped. And I wrestled with his words. And I let them sink in.

Honestly, I think God grabbed a hold of my tongue. Or my fingers, rather, since we were typing. When it comes to fight or flight responses, I’m definitely a fighter, and I really wanted to argue with him about what an asshole he was. But like I said, I had the air let out of me, and I could do nothing but ponder his words.

Then I just felt broken and I started crying. I thought about all the shit I’d given Bryan over the last year when all he’s been trying to do is help me. And even though the way he tries to help me is sometimes not very helpful to me, at least he cares enough to try and help, and now he’s even hearing me better when I try to explain why his help isn’t always helpful, and I give him lots of really good sex when his help IS really helpful so he is sure to remember that stuff for the next time (it’s all about association, right?).

I think the clincher came when I really felt validated by him.

After he stated the obvious, I shot back with a really bitchy, “don’t you think I know that?” sort of response. To which he responded, and I quote: “I think you know it, but that you are still learning to know it.”

And that was all I needed to hear for my heart to melt and receive what he had to say.

I don’t like it when he sees me at my ugliest, especially when it involves the kids. I don’t always treat him well when he tries to intervene or calm me down. But last night he was so tender – I guess you could say he spoke my language. Or the planets were aligned. Or the gods were smiling on me. Or whatever.

But despite my ugliness, he still made me feel beautiful.

The Culture of Working from Home

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Sometimes, when Ruthie wakes up too early, she’ll wander downstairs to find Bryan in his office and snuggle up on his plush, shag rug. She’ll get to hang out there with him as long as she’s quiet. Sometimes Bryan will call me to come get her, but other times, like this morning, he’ll bring her upstairs to me and she’ll go back to sleep in my bed.

At lunch time we all eat together, and after I put the kids down for a nap Bryan and I get some time to snuggle on the couch and read together before he goes back down to his office.

I often get frustrated with Bryan for his strict boundaries of time, because it means I don’t get to do some of the things I want to do, or projects take longer to complete. But other times, like today, I see the benefits of good boundaries, because it means I can count on spending an hour with him for lunch every day.

And that’s kinda nice.

Ode to a Damn Fine Husband

A friend recently said that all marriages go through a crisis. Sometimes more than one. I can testify to that, as my own marriage has been in crisis for the last year or so. On more than one occasion I made mental preparations for how I would pay the bills if I kicked Bryan out. But God has been gracious to us, and our community has been tenacious in their support of bringing peace to our home, and our marriage has persevered.

I feel more clear headed, and less emotional. When Bryan says or does something that I perceive to be offending, I mention it to him and he clarifies what he meant. What I’ve learned through this is that he doesn’t always realize he’s being an ass, so if I just calm down long enough to tell him how I feel without completely going off on him, he can actually think about it and say something like, “sorry, I was thinking about this and such when I said that, and I didn’t mean it to come out that way.” And I’ll say something like, “oh. Thank you. No problem.” End of discussion, and we’re all happy, and we go have sex.

I needed to take responsibility for my part in our marital deterioration – that I assumed everything Bryan said was to attack me, that I was a victim, when in reality I just needed to make fewer assumptions and not expect him to read my mind. I never cut him any slack. I never allowed him to have an off day.

And just a note on how sexy he is…

Today I played in a softball game over the dinner hour. Bryan left early to go start the coals in the BBQ, but our game went longer than expected. I was preparing myself for him to be irritated, but when I walked in the door tonight he’d made a kick-ass ceasar salad, a strong margarita, and he’d just finished grilling rib-eye stakes to my liking. All I needed to do was sit down and eat.

Also, he’s taken to removing the dramatics out of killing spiders for me. He used to holler at me, “Don’t move!” before he dove in for the kill. And of course I’d freak out. But now? The other day I was lying on one couch, and he was on the other. When suddenly he flew off his couch and pounced on something on the floor next to me. Then he quietly scooped it up and threw it in the trash. My pulse didn’t even fluctuate I felt so safe.

It feels good to not hate anymore. And it feels good to not feel suspicious of everything he says or does. It feels really good to love unconditionally, and assume the best of him, rather than the worst.

Basement Remodel Saga: Floors from Hell

Poor Bryan. The one thing he wanted to accomplish this weekend was sanding and staining the cement floor in his new office, but two trips to McLendon’s, three methods, and one full day later, only about two feet along the short wall have been stripped. When he emerged from the room in a cloud of dust he was like the Peanuts character, Pig Pen. And he was very discouraged. I hate disappointment – it leaves one feeling as if time was wasted, but what else could have been done if not by trial and error?

Basement Remodel - floors

Liturgy Piece: The Year of Melodic Shouting

The church I attend encourages congregational participation in the worship experience by providing opportunities for our congregants to share original poetry, responsive readings, essays, and songs during the course of the service.

Today I presented another piece as part of our worship service, only this time it was a collaborative effort between Bryan and I. Using a short essay I wrote, Bryan created this beautiful video.

I hope you enjoy it as much as I have. For me, it is a reminder of change, of progress, of hope, and of seasons.

Longing.

Handsome

Tonight the kids and I dropped Bryan off at the airport, and I cried all the way home. Not because I felt overwhelmed at facing another week alone with the kids, but because I. love. Him. His smell, his humor, the way he looks in those cargo pants… I am missing him. Who knew that I would feel such aching desire just two months after feeling like this? I really thought it couldn’t happen, but it did.

Things That Warm My Heart

At the Zoo

I feel so recharged right now.

By the time Bryan gets home on Thursday nights I’m so exhausted from the week that I collapse into bed and nearly fall asleep before he does. (I say ‘nearly’ because I swear he’s half asleep by 9:30 regardless of where his physical body is located. Actually lying down is just a technicality.)

But on Friday mornings we all sleep in, Bryan makes us breakfast, and we get reconnected as a family. Fridays are becoming my most favorite, and cherished day.

This afternoon I had the added bonus of taking Thomas with me to run a few errands while Ruthie stayed home with Bryan. He’s an easy-going kid so I was able to browse through belts and car seats and craft supplies without feeling rushed or distracted. When we got home I felt energized and rested. It was good to get out.

Bryan’s travel schedule has in some ways been difficult on our family, but I am not nearly as overwhelmed as I thought I would be. Thursdays come quickly, and then the weekends seem endless. I think we’re finding that good balance between enjoying one another and Getting Things Done.

What I struggle with most is the selfishness I feel with my time. Since we no longer have stolen moments of snuggling or smooching or conversing or any other every-day thing, I sometimes want to draw the wagons in around my family during the weekend. But we have family, and events, and a tight community of friends, and we enjoy all of those things. I think over time, as his travel schedule loosens up and we continue getting into a groove, this will all work itself out.

I am completely in love with my husband, and I am so grateful for all the ways he loves me and cares for me.

Lovely Words

I only have a couple minutes to post because the season finale of The Shield is about to start. Last week when Bryan was gone, I had a particularly lonely and depressed-ish afternoon. I sent Bryan a quick email that said something like, ‘Can you write me a lovely note? I need to hear something encouraging from you. Kind of an overwhelming day.’ His response was to write me this poem, and I just want you all to remember that HE’S MINE and you can’t have him!

Grace sneaks in
——————–

Every hour, on the hour
I think of you and
All that we are building together
In the midst of
Screaming children
The barking dog
Spilling milk
And I think to myself
These dents are adding up in
The way that hugging you
Tightly in our kitchen
(amidst those stressful moments)
Adds up to a something that
Is bigger than both you and I
Like those times when,
Seemingly undone,
We hug,
Only to find
Ruthie climbing to join us
In a third way

This is how Grace sneaks in

Bryan, My Love.

A couple months ago I was ready to leave him, but something snapped and we made it safely through the maze together. While on our blissful vacation in Portland, I asked him Did he really think we were getting better, or was there just nothing to fight about recently? I was waiting for the other shoe to drop because it was difficult to believe such a transformation could have taken place.

My theory was tested a few days after we returned when he said something that upset me, I sulked and lashed out at him, and I began having those thoughts flip through my mind: See? He’ll never change! And you? You’re a basket case who’s falling apart. No one understands your pain.

Bryan left for a meeting, then returned and we sat silently on the couch watching t.v. He wore his stressed out, defeated countenance, and I donned my stubborn, righteous resolve. We were together, but far apart.

When he stood up to go to bed I panicked. After experiencing the intimacy and comfort of the past few weeks, after remembering what it’s like to have humor and sass between us again, I loathed the idea of returning to another season of silence and bitterness.

So I spoke. “Wait! I don’t want to go to bed like this. I have something to say.”

I pulverized the voices in my mind and launched into an explanation of why I lashed out, of why his comment hurt me, that it had little to do with the actual comment but more to do with how it represented my fear of the past and the future and all that happens in between.

Relief washed over him and changed his countenance. He thanked me. We talked. We kissed. He went to bed. My head did not explode. The universe remained intact.

And I realized the answer to my question: Yes, we are getting better.

If in the country, I would have heard crickets.

One thing I like about staying at the Kennedy School (described in this post by Bryan) is there is no television in any of the rooms, so we are more inclined to talk, or read, or write when not out and about. The biggest television trap for me at home is watching in bed late at night and staying up way too far into Conan, which is completely unproductive.

This weekend I decided to start a new habit. I have decided to be in bed by ten with a good book, rather than the t.v. I felt so calm and relaxed each evening in the quiet as I explored the books we bought at Powell’s, and I know it helped me feel refreshed the next day. Plus, I’m more likely to fall asleep earlier while reading than while watching television.

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The other thing I like about staying at the Kennedy School is that every inch of that place is interesting. There is original art hanging in the halls, and each room is uniquely decorated with custom murals. Everything about the environment inspires creativity. One morning as we waited for our breakfast I found myself shooting stills of my coffee, the menu, and so forth, and Bryan says, “I like the transformation I’m seeing.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“You are beginning to digitally scrapbook,” he said.

And sure enough, that’s what I was doing. Here is what I captured from our trip.