A Real Eye-Opener

Want a great way to learn something about the strength of your marriage?   Take some adoption classes and see how you and your spouse would answer these questions:

What first attracted you to your spouse?

What do you like most about your spouse? 

What do you think your spouse likes most about you?

What would you most like to change about your spouse? 

What do you think your spouse would like to have you change about yourself?

What would make you want or consider a divorce?

How much time during the week do you and your spouse have alone together, and do you think this is enough time?

What are some ways you spend time together as a couple?

Describe how you show the following emotions to one another as a couple: Happiness, Love/Affection, Anger, Disappointment, Frustration, Sadness/Depression, and Stress

Try sitting down and having you and your spouse each answer these questions separately.  Then share your answers with each other.  It’s a real eye opener, or at least it was for us.   Smile

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42 Years

Happy 42nd Birthday to my husband, Mark.

My best friend…

My awesome, amazing husband…

My rock, my gravity, my reason for wanting to be a better person…

He is the best father I could ever hope to have for my children.

Happy 42nd Birthday, Mark! I love you!

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I miss yo face.

My husband left last Friday for a fishing trip in Canada. Every year, he spends a week up there with my Dad and sometimes another guy or two. Usually, I’m fine when he’s gone and I have a good handle on everything going on.

But this year, this past week, I feel like I’m lost without him. I have been one big hot mess, constantly running in a hundred different directions.

Let’s give a re-cap of how this week has gone, shall we?

Since he left, I have:

1. sat through 17 high school softball games in SIX DIFFERENT TOWNS. Yes, you read that right. SEVENTEEN games, SIX towns.
2. Taken one of our new puppies to the vet, leaving $350 later with a CAST on her leg. (She broke her foot jumping off of the couch).
3. Rubber-banded a ziploc baggie over said puppy’s cast EVERY TIME SHE GOES OUTSIDE, because the cast can’t get wet. And of course, we’ve had rain.
4. Run youngest daughter around to two soccer practices– this all in between trying to catch those darn seventeen games. (Do I need to say again that we’re talking 6 towns?)
5. Been trying to find time to mow the yard. Hopefully today is the day.
6. to attend a surprise birthday for a friend tonight — let’s hope I get the lawn mowed first!
7. Worked full-time in addition to all this other stuff.
8. Spent every single night with 2 puppies, one dog, and one 10-year child old in my bed.
9. Still had the joy of keeping up on housework, laundry, bills, while still kinda managing to squeeze a few hours of sleep in each night.

Today is the day. Or actually, I should say tonight is the night.

He’s coming home.

Mark, I miss yo face.

(Photo Credit: His & Hers Photography)

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31 Days, Day 2.

Day 2: The person (or people) that make your world go round.

My husband, Mark, is my rock. He is my center, he keeps me grounded. He is the reason I breathe. He has provided me with a wonderful family, and is the most amazing father, stepfather and husband I could ever ask for. He is the first person I think of every morning when I wake up, and the last person I think of when I fall asleep at night. This month, I will celebrate 11 years of marriage to this amazing man, and am thankful for every day, every hour, every minute, and every second he has been in my life.

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Recycling Nazi

I have a confession to make.

I don’t recycle.

I know, I know… It’s good for the environment. Living green, preserving our natural resources, insuring our future generations still have space in their landfills for their garbage.

Blah, blah, blahbiddy blah.

Still, I don’t recycle.

Why you ask? Because in our house, my husband is a Recycling Nazi. And I, on the other hand, choose to rebel against any and all authority.

When I take the last of the Little Debbie Nutty Bars* out of the box, it becomes an obsession for me to get that cardboard box into the garbage can before my husband sees it. Because if he does, he shouts “Break that cardboard down and take it to the recycling bin!” with a possible outcry of “Heil  Recycling!”

I might just be imagining that last part.

Finish that bottle of shampoo? Don’t even think about sticking it in the bathroom wastebasket without checking first to see if it’s able to be recycled. Shame on you! Get it to the recycling bin!

OR, if you’re like me, you will stick it in the kitchen garbage can, as far down underneath everything as you can get it, to avoid getting caught by the recycling Nazi.

The other day I took the last of the Oatmeal Cream Pies* from the pantry, and as I was crumpling up the box to stick it in the garbage can, my husband snuck into the kitchen. He took one look at the box, looked at my face KNOWING I was going to hide it, and said “Just collapse that down and put it in the recycling bin.”

DAMN! Foiled again!

The garbage can in my office is full of empty water bottles, Pepsi cans, and probably more Little Debbie boxes*. God only knows the reign of terror I would succumb to should my husband take a gander in there. My method of throwing paper on top of it all probably will be figured out eventually.

So it has become a game. How dictator-y (yes thats totally a word!) he can be, and how rebellious I can be in return. The kitchen counter next to our sink is always full of items to be taken out to “recycling nirvana” (aka the GARAGE). Spaghetti sauce jars**, salsa jars, tuna cans, Campbells soup cans, ketchup bottles. It’s a competition to see how many things can pile up before someone gets fed up and hauls it to the garage.

Him being the neat freak that he is, makes waiting impossible. It physically pains him to see those things sitting out. Me being a procrastinator and avoider of all things “housework” could wait, like, for-EVAH.

So usually, I win! Viva la garbage can! (with a mighty fist pump in the air)

Marriage is bliss.

* On a side note, why yes. In fact, I DO have an obsession with Little Debbie snacks. We will save that for another post.

** Make my OWN sauce, you say? snort, giggle, snort. You’re funny.

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