CSquaredPlus3

Twenty Years

November 4, 1989

 

 

Twenty years later...

 

Happy Anniversary, Chris.  I like you.  You're fun. 

Love,
The Other Chris [the girl]

Holding Hands

I don't participate in writing prompts often [publicly], but as I've shared previously, one of the most welcoming group of bloggers can be found over at Deb's of San Diego Momma.  Deb supplies writing prompts every Tuesday.  If you ever choose to participate, I guarantee your writing will be read and your efforts supported and encouraged.  You can't go wrong.

This week's prompt is "L-O-V-E".  You can read about it here.

I worked on a post about "love" and decided it read like I was pontificating.  I don't want to do that.  We all have sweet, interesting, meaningful [to us] stories about how we met our significant other, how wonderful and passionate portions of our lives and love have been.  "We're best friends [vomit].  We do everything together [puke].  We finish each other's sentences [bullshit].  We complete each other [fingers in ears, la-la-la-la-la]."  Even if these things are true, most of it is best kept private - it rarely reads well, people.  It's a select few who can get away with expressing to the world in detail, the love and respect shared between a committed couple.

I used to work with a woman who always talked about she and her husband's sex life.  It ruined my lunch every day because I couldn't get the visual out of my head.  We all have sex.  We've all had good sex.  None of us invented it, so caress your ego somewhere else.  Even better, share all the mush and high-fives with your partner - or Penthouse Forum.

Chris and I have been married 19 years, together more than 20 - just the facts.  For the record, I don't believe someone's time together is an indication of the health of the relationship.  [Chris and I are fine - no worries.]  We've had our challenges and our times of ease.  I assume we'll have more of both in the future.

When I think of the best relationship advice we've received, two examples come to mind.

We'd been married only a couple of years and already felt the need to see a marriage counselor.  [We're the generation that goes to a therapist for everything.]  I was working as an administrative assistant for three PhDs.  One of the PhD's was a man named Charles.  He was in his late 70s and found himself needing to return to work later in life, not unlike many older people in this economy.  He had been married over 50 years and had what appeared to be a very traditional marriage.

Charles and I were often the only two people in the office.  One day Charles overheard me talking with Chris on the phone and I was crying by the end of the call.  He came over and offered me his handkerchief, which I politely accepted even though I'd seen him using it earlier.  He asked me if I needed to talk, so I told him the story.  What Chris said and felt, what I said and felt, what the therapist said...  Charles listened.  In a soft and assured voice, he said, "When you go home tonight, you two just sit on the couch and hold hands.  Watch the news quietly.  It sounds like you kids have talked enough.  Just hold hands, and sit, and don't talk.  Rest."

He was right.  I think we were in a ditch, and the therapist was over-complicating the situation.  We needed to step out of the ditch and walk away from it.  Not analyze from several angles how we got in the ditch, and all the possible ways to get out - just hop out of the ditch.  So we did.

There are obviously times that require labor-intensive communication to resolve issues, but this wasn't one of them.

The second example that comes to mind is something my Mamaw said.  Chris and I were having dinner with she, Papaw, my parents, and Chris' parents several years ago. We were finished eating, enjoying conversation and a little more wine.  Someone asked Mamaw and Papaw what the key was to being married so long.  They shrugged and smiled, the conversation moved along.  We began discussing  sleep patterns, like what time we went to bed at night and got up in the morning.  Papaw said, "I'm an early riser so I go to bed about 8:00 o'clock.  Jane here, she likes to sleep in, so she stays up much later than I do."

Mamaw raised her eyebrows, lifted her glass and said, "That's... how we've stayed married so long."

[Mamaw, Papaw, Oldest Boy and Middle Boy - July 2004]

If you really loved me, you would.

Oldest Boy asked if we could rent West Side Story.  His dance and music teachers at school have been playing clips from the movie in class.  He convinced Middle boy that it was about gangs and he'd really, really, really like it.  I love old movies, especially musicals, so I was thrilled.  We found a copy at Blockbuster and grabbed Karate Kid II as well.

We watched the first half of West Side Story last week, on a school night.  On our way home from skiing Saturday afternoon, assuming they had forgotten about the Jets and the Sharks, I reminded the boys we could watch Karate Kid II.  Oldest Boy said, "Can we watch the rest of West Side Story first?"  I was so pleased.  Middle Boy was not.

We showered, got in pajamas, made our popcorn and cocktails, and finished West Side Story.

Middle Boy disappeared towards the end of the movie, but he watched longer than I thought he would.  We heard the hum of an electric pencil sharpener coming from his room. [He loves to draw with colored pencils.]

I was sitting with Chris.

Me:  Let's pretend you're Tony and I'm Maria.

Chris:  Sure! [wheels turning]

Me:  Tony has nice hair and a full mouth.  Would you consider a little filler in your lips?

Chris:  No. [buzzkill]

Me:  would you consider hair extensions?

Chris:  No. [double buzzkill]

Me:  Will you at least sing "Maria" to me?

Chris:  I can't sing.

Me:  Yes you can.  Come on.  Do it.  Please...

Chris:  No.

Me:  What about "Somewhere"?  That's so romantic.

Chris:  No.

Me:  Fine.  I'll sing my parts and your parts. [clearing throat]

Oldest Boy:  Dad, sing "Cool" or the "Jet Song".  Those are good!

Chris:  This isn't going how I thought it would.

Me:  My mother almost named me Maria you know...

I think we'll be able to buff that right out...

Toddler Child and I are in Arizona.  We flew here on Thursday and return to Utah later this afternoon.  I'm here primarily to visit my grandmother - Mamaw - and I have Toddler Child with me because I lost the bet.  We're staying with Mom and Dad and things are going fine, although I'm tired. 

I'll post more about my time with Mamaw when I get home.  She's failing but it was wonderful to see her.

Toddler Child has a cold. [Of course.  I'm traveling alone with him.]  He developed symptoms about 20 minutes after we got off the plane in Phoenix.  This was after he spent the flight yelling, "Captain!  I need some orange juice!  Captain! Caaaaptain!"

Mom let me borrow her car to run to the store to get cold medicine.  I'll make this short.  I hit the house.  Backed right into it. In my defense, my car beeps when I get too near something [like a house] when I'm in reverse.  Her's does not.  My car has large windows and excellent visibility.  She drives a tiny convertible - like a clown car - with small windows and poor visibility.  It's like driving with a bag over your head.

I pulled the car back into the garage and entered the house to confess, only after contemplating if Mom and Dad would notice the damage to the car... and... the house.  I couldn't fly this one under radar.

"Hey, Mom."  She looked up from her spot on the floor playing with Toddler Child.  "I hit the house.  Sorry."

I'm a terrible driver, as shared in item number one in this post.  These things don't surprise or alarm my parents or husband.  When Chris and I were first married, I parked the car in our garage, on top of the lawn mower.

I showed Mom the damage, told her we'd pay for the repairs and went to the store.  Dad had been in their bedroom/bathroom showering after a bike ride.  Coincidentally, the part of the house that I hit.

When I returned from the store, Dad was in his office.  I walked in to tell him what I'd done and apologize.  He said he was in the shower when he heard and felt the "impact".  I asked him what he thought it was.  He said, "I figured Chrisy hit the house." 

Thanks.

This is a very important day. Rock the vote.

November 4, 2008
On this day Chris and I both exercised our right and "rocked the vote" with the young people.  We've earned the cool sticker.

November 4, 1989
On this day nineteen years ago, I cast my ballot for a young man who had earned my confidence, trust, respect and love. 
 

I became the wife of Mr. Christopher Alan Ross.

Happy Anniversary Chris.  We'll rock our own little vote later...promise.

It never fails.

Chris doesn't travel that much for work.  He has two, one-week-long commitments each year for his employer.  One is in June, the other in October.  He's away now.

I can count on a couple of things happening when Chris travels.

1)  I always get sick.  Not "gonna die" sick, but functioning sick.  Just enough to feel crummy and want to rest.  Chris left our home at 4:30 a.m. on Saturday.  At 1:30 a.m. - three hours before he departed - I was hit with a head cold.  I woke him up.  "Hey.  I'm sick.  Isn't that unfrickin believable?  Always happens when you leave town.  Sorry to wake you."

2)  At least one of the kids vomits in the middle of the night.  I'm not talking about a child waking you up saying their stomach hurts, and you gently guide them to the toilet, they get sick, you brush their teeth and put them back to bed. 

I'm talking about a child running into your room crying and gasping, the smell preceding them, you jump from your bed to the child, pick them up or push them hard, and get them to the bathroom so they can spit the last teaspoon of sick into a toilet.  The rest of the sick has hit every linen on their bed (including the dust ruffle), the wall (including baseboards), and marked a trail on the carpet from their room to yours.  A Hansel and Gretel technique.

The good news is, we've not had a vomit incident.  I hesitate to even type that.  Chris would shush me and call me crazy for giving this a voice.  He's not superstitious, but he would consider this too serious to tempt.

The bad news is, I'm sick.  Mother would say, "Lets focus on the positives!

• The kids aren't sick!  Well, except Toddler Child, but that's just a little congestion.
• Everyone's finally sleeping through the night!  [It's honestly been years in our house.]
• You have the WHOLE bed to yourself!
• Your hair's been looking much better lately!
• Oh, and you're not pregnant!"

I'm kinda sweet on this one.

My husband Chris has a marketing related blog.  I know - snore.  I read it, because I'm his wife, blah blah blah.  I try to leave comments, but he NEVER publishes them.  The first couple were serious and I was trying to be supportive.  They apparently weren't professional sounding enough.  Now I comment, knowing he moderates, and I leave the raunchiest, foul-mouthed, and dirty-talk comments possible.  I think he kind of digs it though.

Chris wrote a post yesterday that I like, and not just because he linked to me - I'm not the demographic for the marketing/advertising types that read Chris' stuff.  It's not a long post - he tries to keep them short and readable.  Click here and check it out.

Oh, and here's a picture of Chris not being a marketing guy - just being Dad.  He's real good at both.

A Quickie

Last night after a filling meal of T-bones, potatoes, mushrooms, etc... I was enjoying finishing a glass of wine.  Chris was scooping the boys some ice cream for dessert.  I told him there was some hot fudge if he wanted to make sundaes and he should have one too.  He thought that sounded good.

Chris said to me, "Why don't you have some ice cream?"

"I don't care for any right now.  Thank you."

"It'll be gooood..."

"No thanks.  I'm finishing my wine."

He was persistent, "The hot fudge will pair nicely with it..."

"Honey.  No thanks."

"C'mon.  Have a little ice cream with us... " (pleading)

"Maybe later."

"I know what that means."

I'm trying to get his priorities straight.

Me:  I need to do a new post today.  What should I write about?

Chris:  I don't know.  I have my own problems.

I know most people who blog are stealing moments from a hectic day to sit down and write. I often feel I've written something in the most fragmented way.  I still seek that extra bit of encouragement and a second set of eyes to confirm that I didn't miss a glaring error.  I usually call Chris. 

He's busy, but takes time out of his day to pause and read something I'm about to post to my blog.  I call him at work asking, "Can we please line edit this together?"  He says sarcastically, "Oh, I love this part." 

I read aloud very slowly as he's following along on his PC at work.  Is that a clumsy sentence?  Is it clear what I'm trying to say?  Is that too self-indulgent?  Okay, we made a few changes, lets start from the top.  He sighs, and I can hear him typing in the background.  "I don't think you're focusing," I say.  He replies, "I am too.  I think it's great.  Just don't use the word 'thingy'.  You've been using that too much."  Awww.  He is paying attention.

Not only because he patiently supports me in so many areas, but because he's good at what he does (which I really don't understand completely to be honest - I call it bringin' home the bacon), I'd like to link to some nice things for him (red = lovey).  Click here to see his blog post announcing the launch of something about which he is excited.  Click here to see his partner's post about the same thing with many flattering comments about my husband.  And finally click here to read the press release that cost him zero dollars but still made it to Yahoo.

Now I'm going to call him to see if he has a minute to help me line edit this...