Praise for the Simple Man

It's all over these days, and I'm over it.

The message that tells us if something doesn't take our breath away or make us feel like we are fictional characters being passionately courted on a marble staircase, it is not worth our time.

It's not acceptable for a woman to place herself with a man who doesn't bring the firework stand to every conversation.

It's called "settling" if each interaction doesn't trigger the same rush of adrenaline as parachuting from a plane.

And it is mediocre if the excitement of loving the man you're with pales in comparison to the excitement the female heroine feels in romance novel written by (drum roll...) none other than a woman.

We expect too much.

I believe that Hollywood has made a big difference in how the modern woman experiences love. In our search for wild, crazy, and passionate we set ridiculous standards. So in order to reach us, our men attempt rising to these standards.
It will last for a moment. Probably long enough to marry and spend a few years in blissful ignorance... but most men are not capable of continuously jumping through impossible fiery hoops in order to prove their affections! If you or someone you know seems to be, there are secrets being kept. If flawless wooing is the norm after years together, you may need counseling.

Don't read me wrong.. At some points, a man's love should take your breath away. You deserve to feel it. I'll never forget the big, storybook romantic things that Ryan's done for me:

-A lovely bouquet of flowers when we were not together, bearing no card nor giveaway that they were from him...

-An air mattress in the bed of the truck to watch the sunset and a movie in the middle of a field (citronella candle still melted on that mattress)...

-A surprise drive from AL to SC just to spend 24 hours with me only one weekend after he'd moved there...

-An effort into giving me a necklace unique from all the other spouses' at flight school graduation...

-Gifts like a bicycle just because or new furniture for our anniversary...

These are a few. All of his grandest gestures are burned in my memory. The times he's gone above what he needed to just to make me feel special are important and I hold them dear. But they do not set the standard by which I gauge his love for me.

Hollywood's changed the standard for so many women. We only praise the most extraordinary measures taken now. YouTube is full of the extravagant proposal, competing for "likes". There are shows now dedicated to over the top dating. It's not enough to just go to dinner and a movie anymore, because on the latest episode he took her to drink champagne and play putt putt on an actual volcano.

We don't want love, we want the thrill of love. We don't want someone to walk through life with, we want someone who is chasing after us, walking through fire and trying to catch up. We are lonely until we have found the mind-blowing, sensational man. When he has used up all of his mind-blowing, sensational tricks we are lonely again and decide there must be better...moving on to another man forced to spit out all his best to impress.
It becomes a cycle where good men are thrown away, and then asked: "Where are all the good men?"

Or, we marry the thriller of a man and wonder why he becomes a boring one years down the road. He, too, has run out of amazing... or his amazing just couldn't compete with the amazing you keep dreaming up.

Instead, can we not just appreciate men for being good? For graceful leadership? For hard work? Can we not marvel at their simpleness and then also revel in their occasional grandness?

Can we begin to long for a clear man, who will tell you that he loves you, you knowing that may be the grandest gesture of the day? Can we become infatuated with quiet, straightforward, uncomplicated?

Not every story is meant to sound like Casablanca. Perhaps our story is meant to be effortless and invariable, steady as a heartbeat.

So here's to you, the simple man. May we turn from the burning glamour in knowledge that it all eventually burns out, and turn toward your quiet love, happy for a lifetime of smolder.
May we also never forget the small, mundane gestures you perform for us:


-Closing the bathroom door while getting ready for work in the mornings so the light doesn't wake me...

-Walking inside after a long day and noticing first thing that I've vacuumed...

-Your quiet marriage proposal in the living room between the Christmas tree and the couch, hand trembling as it rested on my pajama panted knee...

-Bringing home surprise treats like a Dr. Pepper or Japanese soup...

-Complimenting the dinner though you know it came from a box...

-Placing a screwdriver by the appliance I'm going to disassemble, you know I'll have trouble finding one...

-Backing my car out and back in the garage after yours is moved, making it easier for my pregnant belly to get in the door...

-Letting me lead the way on a hike, knowing it'll be us going in circles...

-Holding my hair back when I'm sick, leaving notes by crackers to make sure I eat...

-Calling to let me know you're thinking of me when you're away...

-Paying the bills before I can even think about them...

-Planning for date night without me having to ask for one...

-Kisses good morning, goodbye, hello, and good night...


May all of these things be burned in our memories as well, held just as dear as your grandness and celebrated just as loudly- if not louder. May these be the things that weaken our knees.

Thank you. You are simple. You are riveting.

Conversations When Love is Complicated and Marriage is Messy

Once (sometimes twice) a week for the past few weeks, my husband has left work and come to sit with me in waiting rooms, then in exam rooms, then in our living room, then in our bedroom.

He will leave work once a week for the next few months to keep doing the same.
My life will come to revolve around the check-ups, as if they don't already.

We have been and will be sitting with each other. Unable to express feelings, unable to comfort one another. All we can do is be, and that is such a hard thing to do while so much is left unfixed.

In less than two weeks I'll be in my third trimester of pregnancy. It's all gone by so quickly, and now it is going by too fast.
While we should be attending baby showers, completing her nursery, stocking up on diapers... we will simply be walking past the vacant room that was already filling with gifts and DIY projects for her, trying not to linger too long next to the infant section in stores, avoiding conversations about parenting children past a day old.

The probability that our daughter won't come home with us is a hard thing we've had to admit to ourselves. We shared with our family, with our friends, with our entire village... and we still can't understand any of it. It's not like learning science or grammar- how if you repeat something enough it becomes knowledge. It's more like waking up every morning wondering what kind of nightmare you had, realizing that it was no nightmare and this is your life and you're one day closer to it blowing you away for real.

Out of order death is intolerable. Knowing that it's coming does not make it more tolerable- there is no "at least..." even though we know those who offer one only mean well. There just is not any *at least* when it comes to losing a child- whether it be at 4 weeks gestation or 20 weeks gestation or right out of the womb or 5 years old or 20 years old... so I encourage any friends reading this to try and find different comfort tactics, as this one does not really work.

As you can imagine, all of this makes our love complicated. It is no longer something that can be simplified into romance, or friendship, or even familiar love. It's all three of them at the same time, sometimes none of them at any time. It is happy and it is sad and we are in love but our hearts are also broken... and then we are trying to remember our love started all of this in the first place, and then we are mad at our love.

Hope is surely born of our suffering and there is not one piece of us that's given up, and we will not give up until it is all over. However, we cannot prepare for the most unlikely. Parenthood in a few months is the most unlikely. Miracles happen, we see them every day. But while we'd love to bring her home, we're not praying for any miracle. Eden is the miracle. Babies are miracles. We cannot pray to change one thing about her. We are praying for peace, understanding, and comfort in God's plan for our lives and our family. We are praying for our hearts while preparing for the likely. We are praying for the courage to make the best decision we can for her delivery and the moments we have with her. Therefore, our conversations are not those that we'd expect to have when moving into the final months of pregnancy.

Instead, our conversations are questions, "What are we going to do?"
Quiet and fun, like we're keeping secrets, "Feel her move. She loves your voice."
Reminders, "This is who called today. And we have cards from the mailbox."
Whispers, "Will this tear us apart?"

We talk about her. We want to talk about her, and we have to talk about her. She is not an elephant in the room, she is the human in my body. She shows us her personality so often already. She is shy, but when comfortable she is feisty. She loves us, we love her. She likes my singing and she likes hearing about her father's day. We enjoy her.

There is plenty of this that is sad and there's no use pretending it isn't. She has made a big mess of our otherwise easy marriage. BUT, I can say that she is making us more honest, more real, and more present for each other as we talk about her.

And along with all that there's the "What can I make you for lunch?"
The "All of the bills have come out of the account."
The "When was the last time the dogs had a bath?"
The "I looked at a few more properties in Washington."
The "Let's go to Redbox after we pick up a pizza."

It's only been a few weeks, of course, and we are not through the hardest part. But so far, our lives have not stopped. There are still things to be done and our life together does have to be respected enough to carry on. That does not mean we aren't sad... We are beautifully broken together but still have to find moments to be mundane and just eat regular supper or finish another season of Hart of Dixie on Netflix, mostly for sanity. We don't flirt too long with the sadness. We are trying to celebrate and enjoy the fact that we are growing a baby together, the fact that we can have a family and we love each other enough to do it. We still have normal married couple conversations.

But in-between the conversations about her and the conversations about life, there are the words that require no response.
There are the conversations that are not really conversations at all- as we are sitting with each other.
The words we speak knowing our love is a mess, the words we need to hear most inside the waiting room, the exam room, the living room, the bedroom:

"I love you."
"I need you."
"This will not tear us apart."

25 Things Being Her Nanny has Taught Me

*Not a post about marriage. 

Since August, I have kept my sweet Aubrey every working weekday from 6:30 A.M. to 4:30 in the afternoon. We have had good days and bad days. We have laughed and cried together. We have come to love each other and she is my best friend. 

She is an omphalocele baby, and had a lot of hinderances in her earliest development. She had her lat surgery just a month before "Meme" came into the picture. While she still has the Mic-Key button for a g-tube feed of pediasure peptide three times a day and continuously at night, I have been able to witness this child grow in her food adventures. I have watched her go from needing help to stand and only clumsily walking, to crawling and standing up own her own to going up and down steps and running without falling. I've listened as she went from only being able to say "mama" and "dada" to saying real, understandable words and singing theme songs for her favorite shows as well as the ABC song as clear as she can. 

It's no secret she has learned so much. She is a smart kid! What might be just as important though, is all that I've learned from her. She's turning a whopping TWO years old next month so I've taken a moment to write down some of the lessons she taught me, rather than what we've taught her! 

1. The difference between a fake cry and a real one. The real one breaks your heart. Real, huge tears and uncontrollable sobbing lets me know she is really upset or in pain. The fake one though, the one where she throws a half tantrum to get what she wants, took a moment to separate. She's a great actress. 

2. Nothing is gross. I have had to wash throw up out of my hair, snot off my neck, and poop off my wedding rings. It comes with the territory of caring for a small child. I used to consider myself a germaphope, but I can still eat finger foods with my hands... Without gloves. 

3. Good luck with your nice things. Speaking of gross, she put my new Fossil satchel in the toilet. I started carrying a heavier bag. 

4. Saying yes more won't hurt anything. I've found it more fun to ask, "why not" instead of  "why"? If it doesn't harm her or teach her a bad habit, and mom and dad say it's ok, she is allowed. Plus, how could I resist her sweet eyes and "peas"?

5. Saying no will only hurt for a moment. That's when I began to learn what a fake cry looked like, exactly. In fact, it comes on cue. "No, you can't play in the trashcan." 1, 2, 3... Here comes the whine and wiping of the face for the nonexistent tears (still cute). 

6. Patience as a virtue. As tempting as it is to just do it for her, she won't learn anything that way except that someone else will do it. So naturally it takes a little longer to do any task if I want her to see she can do it, as opposed to just picking her up and doing it myself. 

7. Kindness as a character trait. She is the most kind child. She wants to share, she wants to be nice, she wants to include you. Being around her this way also makes me want to share, be nice, and include others. 

8. Everyone has a parenting opinion. Once, as we were shopping in Walmart, she wouldn't keep her hands inside the cart. After she slapped it hard on a cement pole, I gently TAPPED her hand and pulled it back in to her as told her to play with the toy she'd picked out. Like clockwork, she started the fake whine and others around us, assuming I was her mother, gave me the dirtiest looks I've ever received. One woman even asked, "Did  mean ol' mommy hurt the baby?" as I stood there consoling her myself. What? I left crying, feeling sorry and guilty. But later that day I resolved that if I ever have to discipline my own future children in public and someone insinuates I abuse them, I'll just have to tell them they're next. (Yes, I had permission from mom and dad to pop.) If you are a parent, I pray you never doubt your own ability to raise a child by the way people judge how you choose to discipline or feed or clothe or bathe or anything..unless you actually are abusive or neglectful of course. Ok, off my soap box. 

9. Nap time is essential. She gains all her energy back to keep playing, and we both keep our sanity. Her naps can last anywhere from thirty minutes to two hours. Some days she doesn't want to nap, and that's okay. We just cuddle and read or sing or watch something that isn't cartoons for thirty minutes or an hour. That time to rest, though, is so important for her day. At least for now...

10. Toddlers are watching every move. It's been easier to keep myself accountable to exercising since I started this "job", because I do it with her. She loves to mimic everything I do and especially enjoys the dancing parts. 

11. Toddlers hear every word. This only started recently, but she now tries to repeat most things I say. Therefore, I am sure to say things I would want to hear from her. Constant love and grace must flow from my mouth, because every word I say is now reaching her ears and finding her heart. I'm pleased to report that "happy" is the newest word she likes to yell. 

12. Toddlers can interpret "the look". Sometimes, like when she wants to climb the entertainment center, she will look at me for approval first. I don't need to fuss or even say no, I just give her the "do you really think it's a good plan to do that thing" look and she giggles and walks away. Simple! Small kids are smarter than we give them credit for. 

13. There is power in a middle name. She doesn't like it when I have to include "Grace" when speaking to her. She doesn't like it one bit. Cue actual meltdown. 

14. OCD is not an option. Why do I feel the need for a perfect pattern, sequence, or to use the parts with the toy they came with? Imagination is such a beautiful thing when it's free from my obsessive perfectionism. 

15. I'm a great pretender. Missed my own actress calling. 

16. Disney Jr has the best theme songs. Nothing comes close to the catchy stuff Disney has. Not to mention the shows that follow are so fun, I don't even mind watching the same one five times a week. 

17. Kids need your attention, encouragement, and praise. Whenever they are trying something new and are not sure of themselves, they looks to us for a "you can do this". Whenever they succeed, they look to us for a "you did it". Whenever they fail, the look to us for a "that's okay, you'll do it next time" or a "let's try again". 

18. Everything is funny. Every. Single. Thing. I laugh so hard at things I never would have smiled at before. Toddlers help you find humor in everyday stuff and sometimes, if you let them, provide the comic relief themselves.  

19. I don't miss "adult conversation". She never gossips, she never complains, and she never asks me tough questions like, "are you going to put on real pants today?" And that might be my favorite thing about her. 

20. Reminding a child you love them makes you feel loved, even if they don't say it back. Until recently, Aubrey couldn't (or wouldn't) say love you. But I told her all day every day anyway because she sometimes reciprocated with a tight hug or smile, and that was enough. Now, she says "wubb buyy" and that is more than heartwarming. 

21. Go outside when you can. I took our thirty minute summer and fall walks for granted. I know this now because she desperately wants to be outside, and so do I. The problem is, since November, it's been entirely too cold. Going in the garage with a coat is just not the same. Luckily, in southern Alabama we can get a nice 70 degrees some days in February!

22. There are moments too precious for Facebook. When she crawls in my lap just to be held, when she calls out, "HEY" as she wakes from her nap and smiles when she sees me enter the room, when she walks up out of nowhere and kisses me on the cheek then turns away...the only people I share her most precious moments with (when I can capture them) are her parents and sometimes my own family. When I have my own babies some day, I will be able to decide which moments are just for me and them, not the rest of the world. I don't want to influence her to think that every little thing must be instagrammed and I want her to know that our quality time is special enough to me to commit it to personal memory, not Facebook. That being said, she has her own hashtag and you can find lots of her on my social media. She's my bestie, duh. 

23. Learning is a result of teaching. If I work with her, she learns. If I don't, she doesn't. 

24. I am important. Two people have trusted me with the thing they love the most. That thing also trusts me. While here in Alabama for this short time, God blessed me and gave me a purpose outside of being Ryan's wife. 

25. Mommy and Daddy will always be first choice. No matter how happy she is with me, she is always sad to see them going away in the morning and always glad to see them come home at the end of the day. It puts me at ease to know that should I have to leave my future children and work, they will still love me best and need me most. That is the most comforting of all.