happy anniversary!

Seven years ago today, Frank and I were married. We’ve been through quite a bit in the past seven years, and I’ve loved every minute (good and bad).  Thanks for being my husband, best friend and partner.  I can’t wait to start the next chapter of our life together with you!

Love you, babe.  This much, always.

~Em

Our first dance.

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so much to say!

Ok, in no particular order:

1.  I am running again.  Well, jogging.  Very, very, very slowly.  At this point, it’s as much for my physical health as it is for my emotional health.  I find that when I run, I am able to process things better and have more energy.  So I am committed to running/jogging/moving my booty every other day.

2.  For anyone wondering about my sugarless lifestyle, yes, we are still sugarless in the K House.  I have to say, there have been quite a few moments of weakness, but we are proud that we haven’t caved.  The only sweets we had were for FK’s 30th birthday.  Hey, that’s a pretty special occasion, right?  So we busted out some cinnamon bread pudding and homemade whipped cream.  Soooo good.  I was worried that it would become some kind of gateway drug – you know, leading to other sugary delights – but we stayed the course and did not venture any further into Candyland.

3. There have been lots of different themes floating around in my life.  I want to write extensively on every single theme, but right now is not the time.  Here are some highlights:

a. Definitions.  I’ve been wondering a lot about how to take control about how I’m defined, both by others and more importantly by myself.  This concern is on a personal and professional level.  Personally, I’m not afraid of being defined as someone who has had a very difficult time having children, but I AM afraid of being defined as ONLY that.  And maybe “afraid” is the wrong word.  I think if people only saw me for this trial, that would be a very limited way of looking at me and that I, and others, would miss out on the bigger picture of what God is doing in my life.  I also think about this a lot professionally, too – the woman who did my job previously really only focused on one particular area, whereas I’ve branched out and brought an entirely different skill set to the game.  I’m concerned that my success is being defined only based on area, without taking into consideration all of the other things I’m bringing to the table.  I have ideas on how to resolve my professional dilemma, but it’s a little bit more difficult to resolve the personal side of things.

b. Attitude. I’ve been battling attitude a lot lately.  For a great many reasons, it’s been particularly difficult for me to keep my attitude in check.  The running is helping with cleaning out any emotional overload, allowing me to refocus my energies when I feel myself slipping into a swirling vortex of sadness.  I think it’s a difficult one to balance, though, because I do believe that I need to be where I am, and not rush through it.  Said another way, I’ve spent a lot of my life checking things off of lists.  I like to do that.  But living a life of checking things off of lists sometimes means that I rush through things to just to get through the list.  A conversation I had tonight reminded me that life is really a series of processes and experiences, not a neat and tidy notebook of lists with check marks next to each item. Discontentment is being in one place, but believing that I should be somewhere else.  I kind of wonder if I would be more content if I just said, “Ok, this is where I am today, and that is ok” – with an understanding that I would not be in this same emotional place forever.  What does it look like to live a more contented life?  Hm.

c. Fluidity. In 2004/2005, I was working a lot of hours.  A lot of hours.  Even when I was not at work, I was mentally at work.  My brain was constantly thinking about things going on at the office; looking for solutions to problems I was having.  It doesn’t help that I worked in advertising and our world is inundated with ad messages.  Even if I didn’t want to take work home with me, it was everywhere.  But when I look back at that time and remember trips we took or things we did, I don’t remember the pervasiveness of work.  I just remember the fun things.  It’s amazing how my brain can edit out work and make my memories into a nice, clean 30 minute montage.  So why do I bring that up and what does it have to do with being more fluid?  Well, I realize that I have a selective way of remembering things.  I remember the joys of the simplicity of life being young when I feel overwhelmed.  But when I really remember what it was like to be me in second grade, I also have to remember that I was totally overwhelmed by simple things then (which were not so simple to me at the time).  I remember lying in bed one night, tossing and turning because I forgot to bring a worksheet home from school.  I knew I would get a “zero” for the assignment.  I finally went into my parents room really late at night (probably 10 p.m.) and told my mom what I was thinking about.  She laughed and told me about times when she felt the same way. The adrenaline from worrying about that worksheet left a bitter, metallic taste in my mouth.  The same taste I get even now when I realize I forgot something or am on a tight deadline.  We edit our memories.  Things do seem better in the past and more hopeful in the future.  Life is constant change.  People are born, people die, people move away, people move in… The sooner that I am comfortable with the idea that nothing is permanent in this life, the easier it is to roll with the punches.  I was not born as a person who is comfortable with being fluid, but over time I’ve come to be better with it.  I think being married to a pilot has expedited my personal growth in this area.  Let’s not go crazy though – I have hardly mastered being fluid and I still love a good check list, but in the realm of things I cannot control, learning to be fluid has been an excessively helpful trait.

So yeah.  Just a few thoughts.  No particular order.  More on some of them later.  Or maybe not.  Well, you can be 100% assured that I will likely talk about running and sugar again.  I’m predictable like that.

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mother’s day

Mother’s Day is coming up around the corner.  This is the second year that I alternately dread the day and love it.

I dread it because it so freshly reminds me of where we are at with our fertility situation.  It reminds me that for so many people, getting pregnant and having the baby is the easy part. It reminds me that our guest room is still just a guest room, not a home to a permanent resident.

I love Mother’s Day because I have a wonderful mom.  My mom is vivacious and bright and beautiful.  She is a fantastic cook, an enthusiastic story-teller and a one-woman party.  If you wonder where I get my “talk to anyone” attitude, it’s from my mom.  I remember being in Washington, DC, waiting to cross a street and Mom struck up a conversation with a complete stranger. Turns out Mom knew a guy who knew someone that this stranger knew.

No one is a stranger to my mom.

She is inclusive and fiercely loyal.  My friends love hanging out with my mom.  She remembers them, she remembers their stories and she always asks them questions about what is going on in their lives.

My husband loves my mom.  I suspect it is largely due to the fact that whenever Mom sees him, she is constantly trying to feed him (this is not something that happens for him in our house… woops!).  I think it’s good that he loves my mom because, as Mom would say, “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree!”

Speaking of that – my mom LOVES sayings.  She says things like:

“That’s why tigers eat their young!” (Do they?  Do they really?  I don’t think they do, but my mom has said that for SO long, I have started to question tigers…)  “There’s a lid for every pot” (not in our house – but I think she was referencing finding a mate, not actual cookware)  “No good deed goes unpunished” (Hm, sadly, I have found that to be true more often than I would like…) “Better to ask for forgiveness instead of permission” (Hmmmm…)

My mom, often in desperation, would tell us things that were not true that still mess with me to this day.  Like, for example, you HAVE to curl your hair to go to the city.  Or that the waiter was going to lock my brother up in the back room if he misbehaved (which explains why Andy would cry whenever he saw a waiter until he was about 18).  Babies crying in church were baby Jesus being born (this really messed me up because we had a giant crucifix at the front of our church + my dad read me time travel stories = I thought Jesus was a time traveling baby and I always wanted to tell warn him about the crucifixion “Don’t do it Jesus! They are going to crucify you!”).

Everything was fun and new and fresh with my mom.  Every day was a new adventure growing up.  My mom let us try a lot of things – this is how I knew I’d never be a horse jockey, a concert cellist, or a professional softball player.  It’s also how I knew what college I wanted to go to, what I wanted to major in and gave me a foundation of skills and knowledge to do all of those things.

When I was little, I loved driving places with my mom.  I remember listening to Elton John and Billy Joel on the radio, bopping along with her as we went to the grocery store or to visit Nani.

On one sunny afternoon, I remember my mom let me get Bubble Tape (6 feet of gum!), even though she hates gum (and bananas and raisins – also called the unholy trinity).  I remember holding the package in my hand, so happy to have this treat.  I looked at the packaging and I looked up at Mom and said, “Hey Mom, you know who makes this gum?” She replied, “No, who?” And I said, very seriously and proudly (I had just learned how to read) said, “Pat Pending!”

My mom laughed so hard that big tears were rolling down her cheeks.  She tried to explain to me what a patent was and what pending meant, but she could hardly get it out.

My mom loves to laugh.  She loves to delight in everyday kinds of things.

I love you Mom!  Happy Mother’s Day!

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entrelacées (French)

propletené (Czech)

met elkaar verweven (Dutch)

fite fuaite ina chéile (Irish)

sammenvevd (Norwegian)

sammanflätad (Swedish)

intertwined

True love.

**Update**

Check out Ed in the background… ha!

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three things: i love you

Frank and I are quirky.  Not overtly quirky.  Subtly quirky.

And nothing is quite as quirky for us as the somewhat strange ways we say “I love you.”

thing one: making the bed.

When we were first married, I told my new, sweet husband that I loved it when the bed was made.

I neglected to tell him that even though I loved it, I really only loved it when SOMEONE ELSE made the bed.

Frank, trying so dutifully to be the good husband, made the bed frequently, all the while wondering when exactly I was planning on making the bed.

Finally, after about a year of his dutiful bed making, he finally pointed out to me that for someone who loves it when the bed is made, I certainly don’t do much to make it happen, and I realized (insert lightbulb moment here!) that Frank ALSO liked it when the bed was made.

As Frank has been traveling more, even if I can’t do anything else, I try so hard to at least make the bed when he comes home.  And when Frank leaves, he makes the bed for me.

Just seeing the bed made, with the silly stuffed dog in the middle, and I know that he loves me.

thing two: tm,a. mgd.lyb.bbq.

To you, those may only be letters.  Letters that don’t mean anything.

But to me, those letters sum up nearly 8 years of togetherness with Frank.

When we were first dating, if Frank did something to annoy me, he would ask me how much I hated him.  I would say, “This much” and he would say, “Which way?” and I would point in no particular direction and say, “This much, that way!”

But as we fell in love, on of us would ask “how much do you love me?” (or, sometimes, “how much?”) and the other would respond, “this much!” and the first would say, “which way?” and the other would say “always!”

When we were married, we each engraved something on the inside of each other’s rings.  We didn’t tell each other what we were engraving, so after we were married, we both pulled off of our rings only to discover that we both engraved, “This much, always.”  And now, for short, Frank will often text me “tm, a.”

Along the same vein, I would call out to Frank as I got out of the car at work “Make good decisions!” (or mgd for short) It became a game to see who could say it last as we were hanging up the phone or jumping out of the car.

And when Frank is taking off at the airport, he will often just text me “leaving ATL [Atlanta], LYB!”  And of course, as anyone could guess, he is just saying “Love you, bye!”

But the icing on the cake of our love story is BBQ.  What does it mean?

Barbecue.

Yeah, that’s right.  One day Frank texted me “tm,a. mgd.lyb.bbq.”

“BBQ?” I asked him.

“Yeah, BBQ,” he replied casually.

“As in barbecue?”

“Yep.”

“Any reason?”

“Nope.”

“Oh. Ok.”

So when I see this long train wreck of mangled letters, I smile.  It’s how we say, “I love you.”

thing three: the game.

Frank and I play a lot of games with each other.  Weird games.

These games keep our marriage light and playful.

But let’s be real, we’re still a little bit weird.

One of the games is that everything becomes a game.

If he taps me, I tap him back.

Not wanting me to get the last word in – he taps me lightly, just so I might not notice.

And I tap him back, even lighter.

And we do this until one of us finally breaks down and laughs.

Usually it’s Frank who breaks down first.

I’m just telling it like it is.

…… tap….. shhhh.

And in our own way, it’s how we say “I love you.”

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