Posts Tagged With: marriage

10.24.18

Posted on October 24, 2018 by robynbird

Nine years ago today I started dating my husband.
Three years ago today I married him.

We dated for months via email, text, and phone conversations. The first time we occupied the same physical space, he told me, “I think I’m falling in love with you.”
I made a split second decision to trust him. I believe it’s one of the smartest decisions I’ve ever made.

We have, and continue to do the work it takes to create our best possible life together.
We have moments when we strike out.
We have moments when we knock it out of the park.
Our average is good. Our OBP is even better.
We may not be World Series contenders, but we own our division. And really, I’m not sure I want us to be so successful we’re winning the World Series. I want us to keep practicing and working, and enjoying the game. I don’t want us to don those big ass rings and rest on our laurels.

OK, this went a direction I didn’t intend…

Here’s what’s up.
No matter how we struggle, we’re struggling together.
No matter how we succeed, we’re succeeding together.
That’s why we’re good. We’re in it together.

We stand in the kitchen and shout.
We sit on the sofa and cry.
We ride in the car and laugh.

I love to kiss him.
I love to hold his hand.
I love when he makes weird faces at me for absolutely no reason.
I love when we have ridiculous conversations with each other’s reflection in the bathroom mirror.

We’re not perfect.
We are real.
I’d rather be real with YBW than perfect with anyone.

Categories: love | Tags: anniversary, baseball, life, love, marriage | 2 Comments

my kind of stupid

Posted on May 29, 2018 by robynbird

I’m a strange sort of girl. And I’m cool with that.
My husband is a strange sort of guy. And he’s cool with that.

What’s cool about our strangeness is that we’re strange in similar and different ways.
In the ways we’re similarly weird, it’s kind of nice that we match up. In the ways in which our weirdness differs, it’s actually kind of refreshing to experience a different sort of strange.

There’s a saying from our beloved Firefly.

That’s us up one side and down the other. (So much so he wrote it into his wedding vows.)
We’re each other’s kind of strange/weird/stupid.
Yet here we are, completely different kinds of strange/weird/stupid too.

My weird tends to manifest in super-girlie-spazzy kinds of ways.
YBW’s weird tends to manifest in well…randomly weird ways.

I love that he’s strange.
Honestly, it’s one of the things I love most about him.
He’s not super inclined to give too many f**ks about what other folks think about him so he feels free to let his freak flag fly.
He’s intrinsically kind, so his weirdness isn’t hurtful to others, perhaps a bit self-deprecating, but not hurtful to himself.

We have the most precious moments. Sacred little vignettes of strange bouncing off each other. Moments that often end with one or the other of us remarking that it seems a shame no one but us just experienced the perfection our weirdness created.
One such moment in the car yesterday. I honestly can’t remember what he did that triggered the feeling in me, but I was overcome with affection for him.
I said, I am truly, madly, deeply in love with you.
I told him I adored his strangeness and that he was indeed my kind of stupid.
He took my hand and kissed it softly before letting out a little giggle.

After the month we’ve had, we need those moments. Teeny little glimmers of love and hope and our own sort of stupidity to keep us grounded. To keep life real. To remind us that our love is the same and different kind of weird.

My beloved is weird. And I’m cool with that.
I love his for his strangeness. In ways I never imagined possible.
We’re each other’s kind of stupid. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Categories: love | Tags: Firefly, love, marriage, my kind of stupid, relationships, strange, weird | Leave a comment

while my behavior is (probably) unreasonable, my motivation is not

Posted on September 19, 2017 by robynbird

Things have been tricky with YBW lately.
Tricky may not be the best word to describe the situation, but it’s the word I’m purposely choosing, and that means I’m hopeful.
Here’s the thing, it might be mostly me. I’m completely wrapped around the axle about feeling overwhelmed by the fact we still have kids at home.
I am acutely aware that I’m overreacting to this.
I’m letting fear and anxiety drive the bus.
I’m smarter than that.
I’m more mindful than that.
I’m more capable than that.
Yet here I am. Shrieking and flailing and foaming at the mouth at the man I love.

I’ve worked myself into a state of chaos that I cannot seem to break from.

While my behavior is indubitably irrational and unreasonable, I stand behind the feelings behind them.
Now, those feelings are quite possibly a jumbled hot mess, but I feel them just the same.

What it ultimately feels like to me is that I sacrificed everything in my life to come here and have my life revolve around YBW’s children.
I’m not exaggerating.
Here, life is focused around the boys.
You may find it interesting to know that I understand why it was that way for so long. What I don’t understand is why it’s still that way.

Here’s what I know. My husband and I love each other. And we’re committed to each other and our relationship. And that gives me hope.

Hope is a powerful ally. One for which I am grateful. For without hope, I would feel that we made the biggest mistake of our lives. But because I have hope, I know we didn’t.
At the moment, what I need more than hope is an end date. I need practical reassurance that my hope is well founded. That there will come a time in the not-so-distant future that the life I am creating with my husband will revolve around our relationship and not his children.
He told me once that he didn’t want to be a step-parent to my girls. Well, first of all, this was hurtful to hear, and secondly, this was obvious as hell when my daughter came to live here. And more hurtful that I can even express.
Yet here I am, living my life for his children.

In my vision, we are a little solar system. (Interplanet Janet, much?)
And in that solar system, YBW and I are a planet. Our four children are nearby moons. Only, unlike a “real” solar system the moons and planet can occasionally occupy the same physical space and be together.
In my heart of hearts, I don’t consider that unreasonable.
What hurts me so much, is that it seems to me that YBW does.

I don’t want to “get rid” of his children. I want them to follow the natural course of development and fly the nest.
I think this goes back to what I was musing over parents developing at a different pace than their children. And while I acutely understand the pain of it. I don’t believe following the natural course of development is unreasonable.
I can want it to be the way it was when it was ‘we three girls against the world’, but that’s not the natural course and it’s not fair to them, or to me.
YBW never had to make the choice to accept the discomfort of those feelings. It was, and remains, these three boys against the world.
Only here I sit, ‘against the world’ adjacent.
Who’s against the world with me? Not a damn body.

Here’s what I’d like…YBW realizing I’m on his side. That I can be part of his against the world with his kids. BUT the time for that is waning, that soon they’ll be on their own, with us as back up.
I’d like to experience the shift from three boys as a unit, to YBW and me as a unit.

We’re parents. We will always have the backs of our children. There is no doubt of that. But there comes a time when having their backs is less active than it once was. That life is more focused on each other and our place in the world and we know that we’ve got our eyes on the moons that are near us.

In Disney’s Beauty and the Beast, Belle sang,

“I want adventure in the great wide somewhere.”

Well, I want that too. I want that with YBW.
Truth is, ain’t nobody adventuring while the focus is on an adult male that chooses not to launch, and a nearly grown male that chooses not to be invested in his own life.
Sad truth is that because they’re not choosing, they’re missing out.
That actually makes me feel worse.
I want more for them.
Unselfishly.

I see my girls struggle in their lives, but they’re out there trying.
Thing 1 and Husband N haven’t any money, but they have tenacity and they have love. They have a plan and they’re making it work.
Thing 2 is stuck physically, but has decided not to let that stop her from making the best life she can. She’s working within those constraints to get her life together and make something of herself.
I have their backs, helping them when they ask for it.
I suffer discomfort at their struggles.
But I see them making the choice to live their lives.

Contrary to opinion, I love YBW’s boys a great deal. I want them to choose their own lives! I want them to try! I want them to be successful humans in this world.
I want YBW to experience the pride and joy I feel when this happens for his children.

I don’t share these comparisons to point fingers. I share them because I know what it feels like to be on both sides of the coin.
Just because I didn’t give birth to his children, doesn’t mean I don’t love them. Doesn’t mean I don’t want the best possible lives for them.

Yes, I want to be a unit of two.
That’s what you’re meant to do with grown-ass kids.
The thing that kills me is that honestly don’t know if that’s what YBW truly wants.
And I don’t know how much longer I’m supposed to silently wait and see. All these thoughts and feelings I have can no longer be contained! In my trying to be kind, or respectful, and say nothing, I’ve created a toxic pit inside me. I much less successful at controlling it. I’m much less concerned about being kind to others than I am in being kind to myself.
I shouldn’t be silent when I’m unsatisfied.
Neither should I lose my shit completely.
It’s a delicate balance.
I’m not super successful at mastering it.

I refuse to believe that wanting what I want is unreasonable.
Though, I am aware that I am inclined to present it in a way that probably is.
I’m being mindful.
I’m working at it.

I’m tired of the same old conversation. Eight years later and I’m still wondering if he truly wants a life with just me.
Do I just need to get over myself?
I have no earthly idea.

Categories: me | Tags: blended families, empty nest, hard work, love, marriage, raising children, relationships | 4 Comments

an April wedding

Posted on March 13, 2016 by robynbird

Thing 1 and fiance N are getting married in April!
Not a ‘white dress, let’s have a big party’ wedding. An ‘at the courthouse with only our family’ wedding.

N is in a (well, several) program(s) for veterans. They’re paying to send him back to school (for an IT degree). They also pay him what I guess equates to a “salary” while he’s in school so he doesn’t have to work full time and got to school full time. (I’m not up on all the specifics.)
Anyway.
Fiance N and Thing 1 can receive more benefits if they’re married than if he’s single. So they spent a fairly decent amount of time talking about what they wanted to do and decided they’re going to get married at the courthouse now and they’ll have their wedding and reception on their first or second anniversary.

When Thing 1 called to tell me all this I suspect she was waiting for some “Mommmy backlash”. on the contrary, I think they’re making very smart choices for their future. It makes sense to utilize the benefits to the best of their ability. It makes sense to wait to have a more formal wedding and reception.
I fully support this choice. It took me a long time to be able to say that, because there was a long time that I simply wasn’t “feeling” N for my girl. I had big worries.
But after spending time with them before our wedding and at Christmas time, I got to see how they function as a couple. I got to hear their ideas for their future. I got to hear their dreams of the life they wanted to share.
It wasn’t that I finally got to know him better, but I got to know them better. I think they’re on the same page about what they want. What their hopes and dreams for a life together are.

I still have my concerns about her age. The fact he’s the first person she’s ever had sex with. Their age difference.
But I see past most of that and realize they’re doing what’s best for them right now. And I absolutely support that!

YBW and I are getting on a plane.
Her dad and Thing 2 are driving down.
N’s mom is driving down.
So their family with be with them when they get married.

Even though there’s not white dress (yet), I made sure Thing 1 does have a something new to wear.

We talked about how it didn’t have to be white if she didn’t want it to be and this is what she chose. It’s so very Thing 1! It’s a gorgeous silver and she’s mad about it.
I’ll be sending a bouquet of purple iris (her all-time favorite flower) for her to carry from this amazing site, The Bouqs Co.. Sundance hooked me up with it (after she had the idea Thing 1 needed flowers) that’s a great Auntie and Godmother right there, ya’ll!

My child, who has never really been at home in her own skin, is finally content.
The Mommy inside me is doing the happiest happy dance!

Categories: love, on being a mom, wedding | Tags: benefits, courthouse, love, making good choices, marriage, mother of the bride, mothers and daughters, smart choices, smart choices for the future, Thing 1, VA, veteran, wedding | Leave a comment

the name dilemma

Posted on August 23, 2015 by robynbird

I read an interesting Buzz Feed article by Jill Gallagher: After My Husband Left, I Kept His Last Name
It resonated with me as I’ve been in the process of deciding what my name will be after I marry YBW.

I’d always just assumed I’d add YBW’s name to the end of my own name.
Then doubt crept in.
I was caught on the fence between the argument for and against.
Is my last name nothing more than “some man’s” name? Would trading one for another really make a difference?

I feel strongly that I’ve given up so much of my life to be in my relationship with YBW that holding onto that last bit of my “old life” felt important.
But here’s the reality. This name I carry is MY name. It’s my identity. I’ve had it for more than half my life. I’ve often said that if the former husband’s name was Jones I would have taken it just to get rid of Smith.
I have always despised my “maiden” surname. The name of a man who essentially abandoned me when I was just five years old.
I wanted the name of the man who really raised me, Grandaddy. But it wasn’t to be so.
So when I married the former husband at the age of twenty, I was happy to have his name. Not because it was his, but because it was my new name.

I’ve had my name for over twenty four years. I like my name. I identify with it. I don’t know if I’m ready to simply choose a new name and learn to own it. I don’t want to feel like I’ve given up any more of me.

On the other side of the fence is the fact that if I’m going to have “some man’s” name, it should be the man to whom I’m joining my life.

I had conversations with YBW, Sundance, and my friend and mentor about my change from knowing to confusion.

Sundance, in her perfectly direct way was adamant I drop my current name and take YBW’s. She finished her tirade with: Why do want any more to do with the former husband? So, beyond a shadow of a doubt, I know where she stands.

YBW looked at it differently. He was very clear to assure me he never expected me to take his name as tradition dictates. He asked how I would do it: would I drop my middle name (which I love) and use my current last name as my middle and his as my last? Would I just have four names? Would I hyphenate? Mostly he assured me that he would support whatever choice I made.

My friend and mentor listened in her typical, patient fashion and really heard my dilemma. She told me she could hear me struggling.
Then she shared her story with me. When she and her husband of twenty-odd years divorced, she had a very similar conversation with her mother. She wanted nothing to do with the name of the man who did her wrong. Her mother reminded her that her sons had that name, that she would always be their mother. That was more powerful than the man.
She sat with that for a while and decided to add in her “maiden” name. The name that she got from her beloved father, the name that shaped her young life and prepared her for the world. She chose to use both her last names because each of them shaped who she had become.

I took all this information, these points of view, and mixed them together with my own and let them settle. I stopped actively thinking about it for a while.
And as I drove home on Tuesday, just as suddenly as I questioned it in the first place, the answer came to me.

Friday I read Ms. Gallagher’s article and immediately sent it to my friend and mentor with the following:
This article came at just the right time.
I’d actually decided a few days ago to hyphenate my name. Because it’s MY name. The name with which I made and raised my babies. Worked at the most wonderful job I’ve ever had. Met people who changed my life just by knowing them.
The name with which I made the scariest decision of my life.
I didn’t consciously know all those reasons until I started writing this to you. I just knew that was my choice.

To which she replied:
Oh my sweet friend! I so dearly and sweetly love you! You have worked hard to think about this decision about what to call yourself as you go forward. It is such a privilege to be with you on this journey. I so adore you and love you!

Her love is something I feel every single day, but this, this got me deep in my gut: privilege to be with you on this journey.
I’m not good at paying attention while on the journey, or even to the journey itself. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: I’m a destination girl.
I want to get where I’m going…never much matters how.
But this simple sentence gave me pause. Made me stop and take a look around me.
The name I have is the one I chose. The name I share with my girls. For how much longer, I don’t know…Thing 1 has a ring on her finger and will eventually marry N. She’s said in passing she’ll most likely drop her middle name and use our last name as her middle then take N’s name.
Thing 2 has expressed her disinterest in marriage. She thinks she and D will most likely just “shack up” for however long and she’ll always have her name. I wonder if as she grows that’ll change?
Even though they’re girls and may not keep the name we share, we started our lives together with the same name. That’s important to me.
I am me. I’m not “some man’s” version of me. The me I am is a girl who owns her name and doesn’t really care how she got it.

I didn’t really know why it was important, this name dilemma, I just knew it was.
Isn’t it funny that within a few days of making the gut decision I read an article that helped me understand why my gut made that choice?
Perhaps it’s not really all that funny…I believe the universe puts what you need in your path even when you’re not looking.

I don’t think I’ll ever learn to be a “journey” girl, but maybe, just maybe I’ll take Ferris Bueller’s advice: Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.
With my own name AND YBW’s name.