Tag Archives: Marriage

I hate the “P” word. But sometimes it is exactly the right word.

Just because I am full of Hope and new Habits and dreams and crock pot recipes doesn’t mean I have turned my back on my  demons.

But last night I laid one to rest.

Perhaps other  people’s husbands say just the right thing and it is poetic and full of “sweethearts” and “I love yous” broken up only by tender moments.

But when I need support. True support. I don’t  need coddling. I just need someone to shoot it straight.

“I will not even entertain this conversation” he said.

Always mannerly, even in an argument. He managed to tell me to shut the fuck up in such a way that he eased my fears. I hate that he can do that.  Even while I am simultaneously loving it  – it pisses me off.

When you write about your insides and you don’t seem to edit much out there is an assumption that you put it all out there. Maybe some people do but I don’t. Not out of a desire for privacy or an intent to be misleading. I just can’t write until I’ve figured it out. And then it is an after the fact admission instead of a real time confession. But the writing it all down. It helps me to keep the same fears from cropping up time and again. Once  the demons that I wrestle with in my head  have names they don’t scare me anymore.

Last night in the middle of an argument (the details of which are both private and irrelevant as I have a knack for deviating from the original discussion) I realized I wasn’t making sense. I was pushing MQD away out of fear. So I summoned the courage to be brave for just one minute.

Deep breath and spill it. If something happened to me and Mike, to our marriage, I’d lose everything. He would get Lucy half the time. And Emily, too, if I did right by her. And I’d be lost. Without a home, a job or my children.

As always once I said it out loud it lost a lot of its power. But it was what he said that assuaged it altogether.

He could have asked me what my problem was or been hurt that I’d be suggesting now of all times that our marriage would fail. Instead he just said he refused to entertain this conversation.

“Ok.” And I could feel the weight lift. “I guess it is just as much a waste of time as making a plan for if aliens land in the backyard.”  I smiled.

And even though I’d been yelling at him and being all kinds of hysterical for the last half an hour he smiled too. “No, that would actually be more worthwhile.”

What reason do I have for being afraid? Are there problems in my new marriage I haven’t addressed? No. None.

It’s just me. And February. My divorce from Emily’s dad was final in a February. I saw the date pass in the calendar  recently and I thought about the nail in our coffin. And for a moment I forgot the truth and I began to think that it was all me. And my love for Emily. That I couldn’t be a wife and a mother and our divide began when Em was born. That it was all me that had failed. And the Insecurity Dragon (the only demon with a name that I fear I will never slay) reared its head and went to work on my heart.

Several days later and I am in my kitchen crying. Preparing my heart for the day when my marriage crumbles again because I pour my heart in to being a mother and I don’t know how to be a wife at all.

Only this time I do know how. I stopped yelling. And I stopped crying. And I said “I am afraid”  and I asked for help. That is four impossibly hard things if you’re keeping track.

He stood and took the baby from my arms and jiggled her on one shoulder. With his other arm wrapped around me, there was stereo crying in his ears.
It’s funny. The things I repeat in my head. The moments in my marriage that become touchstones for when I require strength or faith. I’m adding “I will not entertain this conversation” to the pile with what MQD said the day I went in to labor.

Early in the day not long after he came home from work I was pacing in the kitchen when it hit me. Today would be the day I’d realize a dream.  My unmedicated birth.   And then I started to question if I’d have the strength, no the courage, to follow through. He must have seen the fear start to take root and he stopped  me. “You’re a bad ass Kelly. You just can’t be too much of a pussy today to be a bad ass. “

I love that he said “today.”  Because  you can’t be expected to be a bad ass everyday. And sometimes all it takes to be a bad ass is to just not act like such a pussy.

I’m working on it.  Being brave is not so impossibly hard.

In December of 2008 I thought MQD was a kid and I was all Grown Up. I couldn't have been more wrong.

For MQD – Because one day I will be Grown Up.  And it will knock your socks off.  Thank you for being so patient.  I love you.  More today than I have in all our days.  At least until the aliens land.  xo

Love & Marriage

Love and marriage… go together like assorted maxi pads and M&Ms?  Somehow I don’t think that is what Frank Sinatra had in mind when he said “horse and carriage.”

But that about sums it up as far as I am concerned.

The other night I stood in the hallway between our bedroom and our living room.  Our beautiful new king sized bed in our lovely bedroom called my name.  But my husband, sitting on our new couch in our new living room… he looked pretty cute, too.  We are still newlyweds, afterall.  The siren’s call of our bed won me over so I inquired “Will you come and sit with me for a minute?   I’ll be asleep in five minutes.”

He rose from the couch and went to get me a glass of water.  Grabbed my Tums off the kitchen counter as he returned, placing them both next to my side of the bed.  He climbed in to bed next to me and began to laugh.  “You know we have only been married for nine months?”

Without even thinking how it might be received I blurted out “It seems like SO much longer than that.”

He smiled and said “Well, I am glad you feel that way, too…”

It has been a whirlwind of a year.  Last winter we were finalizing wedding plans.  And a year later we are in our new house, married, our daughter climbing on to the school bus at the base of our driveway every morning, waiting on the birth of our baby.

If your life has to resemble a Talking Heads song better “Once in a Lifetime”  (And you may find yourself in a beautiful house, with a beautiful wife and you may ask yourself— Well…How did I get here?) than “Life During Wartime” (This ain’t no party, this ain’t no disco, This ain’t no fooling around, No time for dancing or lovey dovey, I ain’t got time for that now!!!)

So, what does this have to do with maxipads and M&Ms?

The other evening I tucked Em in to bed and snuck back downstairs.  In to the medicine cabinet in our bedroom I went.

There was a time in my life when the master bedroom medicine cabinet was a treasure trove of good times.  Need to sleep?  Wake up?  Get happy?  Chill out? Get psyched?  I gotcha.

And now this.  I paused as I opened the door and snapped the picture above.  And then I listened for little feet before I snagged the bag of M&Ms that MQD had hidden for me.  Had to make sure that no one would bust me ripping the bag open.  There in my medicine cabinet is everything I need to feel great. Big maxi pads, small maxipads, lanolin for sore nipples, breast pads for leaky boobs, my favorite face soap… and a bag of peanut  M&Ms.

It’s no secret I am not exactly feeling great lately.  I am DONE being pregnant.  Finished.  Ready to trade the low throbbing all day pelvic bone pain for the pains of labor. Ready to hold this baby in my arms, instead of between my thighs (or at least that is how it feels, so help me every time I get up I feel like a baby is sure to fall out and hit the floor, if only it were that easy.)

But this morning… this morning I felt great.  Super.  Awesome.  Like today is gonna be cool. It might even be okay if I stay pregnant through the next TWO or even THREE days… because the M&Ms… they are multiplying. I don’t think it is magic. I think it is Love & Marriage.


Love & Marriage

I love you, MQD.  It has been one hell of a ride, these last nine months.  We laughed when we started looking at real estate that we were out of minds to get married,  have a baby and buy a house all in one year.  But give us a few more days… and we’ll have made it.  Relatively unscathed.  I know I am no picnic.  And I know it might have felt more like Wartime than Once in a Lifetime at times… but the best days are still ahead of us, sweetheart.  Hang in there, we got this.  And keep stocking the medicine cabinet. xxoo

Honest you do…

In our wedding ceremony I included a bit about how I knew that MQD was “the one.”  I said it was our first Christmas together.

She realized that Mike listened to her. All of you that know Kelly know that this is no small task.   As you can imagine this was both exciting and terrifying.  She opened her Christmas presents and saw that each item was chosen because Mike had heard her.   A big bottle of Delirium Tremens, her all time favorite beer, a package of Nutter Butters, her all time favorite cookie, and an ee cummings compilation.  Her all time favorite poet.
He did it again.
The listening.
He was late coming home from work this evening and I asked him where he’d been.  He smiled that sly Christmas-y smile and wouldn’t tell me.  I assumed he’d been Christmas shopping.
With both hands behind his back he told both Emily and I to pick a hand.   She chose first and he said “Nope, wrong hand.”
I’ll cop to getting slightly more intrigued.  These were specific surprises, one for each of us.
Mine was a  key.  An ornament.  Many years from now it will be the ornament that MQD gave to me the year we bought our house.  The year that we were married.  It is perfect.
We don’t always talk about what I write here.  Sometimes I am not even sure he has read it.  But tonight I had one of those Sam Cooke moments… the moments where he sends me.  He is reading.  He is listening.  Message received.  Loud and clear.  Ornaments are important to his girl.
And he found me the perfect one.
Merry Christmas, MQD.  It was only three years ago that I knew.  When I “found myself wanting to, marry you and take you home.”
And now here we are.  Home.

Just like Rock Hudson and Doris Day

I was reading back through some of my gloomiest posts and it is interesting (perhaps only to me) to note that even though I am pregnant it seems I am down and blue damn near once ever 28 days.  And if my “woe is me” can be tied to some kind of hormonal cycle than so can the rest of my hormone inspired thoughts and desires, right?  Consequently making them a product of my chemical make up, fair game for discussion.

I am a firm believer that a romantic relationship with the person who is truly in your heart of hearts your best friend is a good idea.  But you have to do the work to make sure that your romantic partner is equal parts best friend and  lover, or you slide in to that scary territory of living with a roommate.  There are lots of ways to accomplish this, I think.  Lots of complicated, time consuming ways.  Sexy posing on the bed in the “good” nightgown, not the 15 year old band t-shirt.  Try not to bitch and moan about finances and cook a decent meal.  Don’t change in to sweatpants as soon as you walk in the door.  Shower with the door closed and shave your legs in private and maintain some kind of… what do they call that? mystery?  Make an effort to make absolutely zero jokes related to bodily functions.  But all of these ways rely on another party noticing you sending out these signals. Continue reading

Have you met my wife?

I don’t talk about MQD an awful lot here.  In part because we are happy and functional.  And that is neither funny nor interesting.  And when I do it is to occasionally mention that he might not find me hilarious in some moment or another.  Now this might give you the impression that he is not particularly funny.  When actually he slays me on the regular.  And roughly half of the time he does it on purpose.

The other night in a moment of classic MQD and Kelly interaction we were having a semi-silent faceoff regarding the television.  I watch horrendous, awful TV often.  Or rather when I watch television it is often horrendous.  So I do my damnedest to not attempt to defend my viewing habits EVER and to make an effort to occasionally flip off the tube and entertain the old chap.  After all he was married to me for all of about ten minutes before I got all pregnant and cry-y and wanting to eat ice cream and watch romantic comedies.   The least I can do is let him hold the remote. Or gasp, turn off the TV if that is his desire. Continue reading