Can't Help Falling in Love

This blog somehow went from being about me reading the Bible, to me just talking about anything controversial and has now turned into me gushing about my husband.  I can't help it!!!  He makes me stupid happy.  And after going through all of my high school journals and all of the poems I've written in my lifetime I'm so much happier.  From reading my words from years ago, it's obvious that all I ever wanted was to be loved.  One of my poems even has a line that says "I want to be the perfect wife."  Now, I'm not entirely sure I can claim that title, but it's pretty telling that at fifteen years old that's all I wanted.  All I wanted was my fairytale.  And I thought the fairy tale was falling in love and getting married quickly in that "I can't live without you" kinda way.  I had visions of an elaborate proposal with a crowd watching and tears of joy.  I didn't get that proposal, but I'd say I got that fairy tale.  We may not have went right from dating to marriage in a matter of months, but I definitely got my "I can't live without you" story.  I married my high school sweetheart and I never looked back.  It's the true definition of growing up together.  I look back on all of the things we've been through and I cannot believe I survived all of that with the same person by my side.  And as Christmas closes in and I look ahead to the future when there are children helping us decorate our tree and asking Santa for a certain gift, I know that the best years are definitely still to come. 

With all that being said, I'd like to share a poem I wrote on July 16, 2002...just one month and four days after we started dating.  It's telling in where it lies in the timeline of my life.  The previous poem was written just a week before we started dating and it talks about how I'm so afraid to fall in love (even though that's all I want).  In such a short amount of time, you can see how much all of that changed.  And except for the part about not being able to say it and mean it, every word is still true, nine and a half years later...

I’m feeling things I never felt before

And thinking things I never thought before
I’m doing things I never thought I’d do
And using words I never thought I’d use

It’s like I don’t know what’s going on

Not a clue as to what’s happening
But that’s not true
I’m pretty sure I know what’s happening

I know exactly what’s happening

And sometimes I say it
But something stops me from meaning it
From saying it with true feeling

It’s like I’ve made a new discovery

Discovered things I never knew existed
It’s like there’s a whole different world
And there’s only two people in it

I look into your eyes

And find myself catching my breath
You don’t realize your potential
You don’t know what you can do

I’m beginning to notice new things

Like the smile on my face
And the contentment I feel through my whole body
Everything is so brand new

And I’m pretty sure I know what’s happening

I know exactly what’s going on
But I’m afraid it may be too soon to tell
I told you it was too soon to tell

For some reason I can’t say it and mean it

I can’t say it with true feeling
But every time you walk away
I feel my heart shatter

Every time I watch you leave I feel alone

And this time I think I’ll say it with true feeling
This time I think I mean it
This time I’ll say it from my heart…I love you

Looking Back

So, I've been reading my old journals the last few weeks.  I was pretty meticulous about writing in them during middle school and high school.  I'm aware of the information that's in them and I remember being a sad teenager, but it's still been hard to relive it.  It's been a roller coaster of emotions, but it's also really inspired me to start writing again (I all but completely stopped when I got together with my husband...).

In the year 2000, I went to five funerals in six months.  At the time, I don't really think I realized how much it affected me and how much it shaped who I would become.  That year started with me breaking up with my first "real" boyfriend and my journals are a memoir of me trying to get over him.  We only dated two months and he was hardly a good boyfriend, but still I obsessed.  And it took me years to realize it was my way of coping with all the death in my life.  We broke up in the middle of January; my grandmother died two weeks later; then a classmate passed away three months later from cancer.  Then two months after that, my grandfather passed away and was buried on my fifteenth birthday; then, my cousin miscarried her baby at six months, just a week later and it was followed with the death of a friend and neighbor by a car accident two weeks after that.  It was, by far, the worst year of my life.  And it was compounded by all the pettiness and just plain awfulness that comes with being in high school.  I remember people at the time saying that they were the best years of your life and even then I thought they were nuts.  This same ex-boyfriend ended up dating someone I had been friends with for almost ten years and I felt incredibly betrayed and angry about it.  And looking back on it and reading how I felt, I still remember that girl.  I still remember how hurt I was and the feelings actually came back.  I wasn't necessarily still sad for myself, but my heart ached for this young girl, who was so lost and so alone and so desperate for someone to listen to her and understand her.  But, at the same time, there were some decisions I made that I now feel so proud of eleven years later.

That same ex that dated the friend asked my permission to go to the freshman dance with her, because he knew I was upset about her asking him.  Every fiber of my being wanted to tell him not to go with her and to go with me instead, but I told him that I wanted him to be happy and that he should go.  For whatever reason, I felt such a sense of pride after reading these words now, knowing that I made the right choice.  And I honestly can't say whether or not I'd make that same choice today.  I tried so hard to still see the good in both of them.  I tried so hard to convince myself that he actually cared about my feelings and I tried hard to believe that she truly didn't know how much she hurt me.  It took a lot out of me to be the bigger person.  But, I also saw a lot of me always being the bigger person and always putting other people first.  It was a lesson I learned pretty early, that sometimes (dare I say, most times), you need to put yourself first.  I remember always hearing that it was important to think of others before you think of yourself, but at twenty-six years old, I no longer agree with that.  Throughout life, I've found that the only person I can count on 100% of the time is myself.  You have friends that you trust and people that you count on, but regardless of your relationship with someone or how long you've known them, they will, at times let you down.  It's important to look out for yourself, because others won't. 

I've always been far too emotional for my own good.  I've acted irrationally and lashed out before really dealing with my feelings and it's obvious that's always been the case.  I like to think I've mellowed out quite a bit, but Ryan and I were actually discussing tonight how I might deal with certain things when we have children.  I have never, in my entire life, been drunk...I've never tried any drugs or smoked a cigarette.  The drinking is a control issue, that stems from the death of my step-brother when I was nine years old.  He had just turned twenty-one and it is believed that he was driving drunk.  As a result, he and his best friend were killed in a car accident.  At nine years old, I was devastated, but it didn't truly affect me until I got older and people around me started drinking.  Ryan and I had SCREAMING fights about him drinking when we were younger than twenty-one and on his twenty-first birthday I was a mess.  I was convinced that when I got off the phone with him that night (in which he had the typical twenty-first birthday experience that I could not particpate in, since I was still only nineteen), it would be the last time I ever got to talk to him.  I just knew the next time I saw him, it would be at his funeral.  I knew at the time it was ridiculous and irrational (but I actually learned that my step-sister went through the same thing when my brother turned twenty-one), but I reacted based on feelings and fear.  And tonight I tried to convey to Ryan that I don't want to be that mother that freaks out when her seventeen-year-old comes home drunk.  I want my kids to know they can always come home, but at the same time I want them to be responsible.  And my concern is that this fear will come across as anger and instead of teaching my kids how to be responsible drinkers, it will just show them that their mother freaks out when they drink.  The honest truth is that I want my kids to be like me.  I want them to be the kinds of people that never touch a drink or a cigarette or any kind of drug, but the reality of the situation is that they probably will.  And I realize that this is at least twenty years in my future, but I'm the kind of person that worries about these things.  I want my kids to learn from my mistakes and the mistakes of others that came before me.  But, while I wasn't the kind of the kid that partied a lot, I wasn't without issue.  As I mentioned, I was lonely and scared and horribly bitter.  It might just be journals that I'm reading, but there is a clear story arc and clear character development.  That journal holds every major event in my life that happened before the age of sixteen.  It holds all of my deepest secrets and deepest regrets and I mention more than once that it's the only place I can go to know I'm not being judged. 

I desperately want to protect my children from the feelings I felt when I was a teenager.  I read the words that I wrote so many years ago and I feel for the girl that wrote them.  It seems like the words of someone else, but it's real and it's raw and it's painful.  And I can't stand the thought of knowing that my kids are, at some point, going to experience these same things.  They might not be as emotional as I was, and I certainly hope they don't have to deal with as much loss as I did, but it won't change the pettiness of high school.  So, while I hope that they're like me in the sense that they don't "party" too much, I also hope they can make choices that make me proud, even something as small as letting an ex-boyfriend go to a school dance with a former friend.  But, most importantly, I hope they can look back on the choices they made and the person they were and be proud of the people they grew up to be.  I saw myself go from a happy-go-lucky teenager, who was so concerned with finding a boyfriend, to a bitter high school student, just barely making it through every day and watching her friends betray her one by one.  Unfortunately, most of the bitterness stayed with me and the happy-go-lucky got lost somewhere between boyfriends, betrayals and burials, but I've come out on the other end.  While I'm sure that my high school experience wasn't that much different than most, I think that it ultimately shaped the person who I grew up to be, in both good ways and bad ways.  I found that perfect man I was so desperately hoping for, I've realized who my true friends are and I look around and realize I've reached every goal I have ever set for myself. While I still hold on to a lot of that fear and some of that cynicism, I do believe I'm happier than most people are at my age.  And that truly is the happy ending (beginning?) I never thought I'd get. 

Glass Houses

This is potentially going to be a long one.  I’ve been bottling a lot up for a little while, mostly because I’ve been trying to keep a low profile, but also because I wasn’t quite sure where to start.  My basic intention is to address how frustrated I am with the negativity around everything!  I’ve been called negative so many times and at first it hurt.  Now, I honestly think it’s really funny, because I realize that the people using that word have no idea what it actually means.  It is so frequently misinterpreted that I like controversy and that I intentionally stir it up on my Facebook page.  While it’s true that many debates do get started there, that is very rarely my intention.  I post things that I find funny, or that I believe in or that I want to promote.  It’s the people that disagree that feel the need to start the controversy.  It’s funny that this gets blamed on me, because I have never commented on anyone’s post if it was something I disagreed with.  Somehow, this society has turned into one that needs to voice their opinions at all costs.  This is mostly due to the fact that we are asked for our opinion at every turn.  No matter what site you visit, there is most likely a section at the bottom for comments.  You sign on to Facebook and you’re asked “what’s on your mind.”  And while I am definitely not telling you to keep quiet about something you believe in, I am telling you to take a look in the mirror.  Opinions are okay, being cruel for no reason is not. 

It’s no secret (or maybe it is…) that I’m a fan of celebrity gossip.  It’s not that I care what’s going on or who’s married to whom, I’m just interested.  I have no emotional investment in these people, and I’m not heartbroken when something doesn’t work out.  That being said, I spend a lot of time reading celebrity gossip sites and (unfortunately) the comments that people make on the articles.  It never ceases to amaze me how unbelievably negative and rude people can be.  I read an article several months ago (maybe even last year) about Rod Stewart.  He had a child when he was about sixteen or seventeen and he and the mother decided to put the child up for adoption.  They recently reconnected and were getting to know each other; a fairly harmless (and not uncommon) story, with a potentially happy ending.  I could not believe the comments saying that he should have “manned up” years ago and taken care of his child.  Correct me if I’m wrong, but putting a child up for adoption that you can’t afford to take care of is manning up!  They didn’t decide to have this child and try to raise it separately as teenagers, without having a relationship with each other.  I have no doubt they weren’t ready for the commitment, so they gave the child to a family who was willing to love this child as their own.  If they had tried to raise the child, there would have been comments about “babies having babies,” etc. 

No matter what the circumstances, there is always negativity.  If it’s a couple who’s married, there’s the usual “that’s too bad, they’ll be divorced soon anyway.”  If it’s a couple who’s not married, it’s “great, another illegitimate child.”  Celebrities (or anyone really) having children out of wedlock (is that term even still used?), up until recently, used to bother me.  I couldn’t understand why, in this day in age, people still did this.  I couldn’t understand why people just didn’t get married if they planned on having children.  (Don’t get me wrong…I understand that things happen and birth control is not 100%...I’m talking about “repeat offenders .”)  Keeping my personal opinion out of it, though, why do people care?  Again, whenever there is a report that someone is pregnant and not married, there are always comments.  Why do you care???  How is it affecting your life if these people decide to have a child without being married?  It affects their life and no one else’s.  Children are raised by single parents all the time, either through death or divorce, so what difference does it make if they’re married to begin with?  With the divorce rate so high, it’s a wonder anyone tries at all!!  I won’t say babies are “miracles,” because they’re not (although the whole process fascinates me a little bit…), but if this baby was created by two people that love and respect each other, regardless of their relationship to each other, that is a good thing!  It doesn’t matter if they’re married, engaged, dating, living together, broken up, gay, straight or transgender.  If they are mature enough to raise this child(ren), then good for everyone involved!!

Speaking of gay or transgender, why, oh why does anyone care if gay people are allowed to marry?  I’m tired of the religious excuses that it’s “sinful” and that God would not approve.  I can’t say for certain whether or not this is actually in the Bible (I promise I’ll get back to reading that eventually), but it shouldn’t matter.  Those that follow the Bible need to remember what you’re supposed to be preaching…acceptance for all.  That includes those that choose a lifestyle you don’t agree with.  Marriage is about love; plain and simple.  If two people love each other, as humans, they have a right to happiness.  As two consenting adults, there is not a reason in the world that they should be denied said happiness.  “Marriage is for procreating.”  What about people that physically cannot have children?  Should they just not bother getting married, because there’s no point?  “If we let them marry, what’s next?  Letting someone marry their dog?”  See…no!  Because these are two consenting humans, not a helpless animal who has no choice in the matter. 

The comments I’ve seen about Chaz Bono have made me want to give up on humanity completely.  I would not consider myself a fan and I could not tell you a single thing this person has done (accept be born to Cher & Sonny Bono), but I recently watched him on Dancing With the Stars.  From what I saw, this is a very down-to-earth, loving, caring person.  I understand the hesitation and feeling uncomfortable, but to be vicious is unnecessary!  I’ve seen comments calling him a freak and people saying how disgusting he is and others who are refusing to let their child watch him on TV for fear their child will want to change their sex.  Most people believe it’s a mental disorder, but that does not stop the vicious comments.  If it is a mental disorder, then shame on you!!!  Schizophrenia is also a mental disorder, as is bipolar disorder and depression and many, many others.  Are all of those people freaks?  Certainly not!!  They have a real, true, medical condition that is hopefully being taken care of.

If it isn’t a mental disorder, then why do you care what this person does with their life?  If Chaz is happier being a man, then let him be a man.  He is not hurting anyone and his choices do not affect you.  If your child sees him on television and knows that this person used to be a female, that that is your fault, because his appearance is 100% male!  Maybe Chastity was born as a hermaphrodite (educate yourself, please, if you don’t know what that is) and Cher and Sonny chose the “wrong” sex to raise their child.  The point is, we don’t know the answers and it shouldn’t matter.  This is a person who was not comfortable in their own body and made a huge change to fix this.  He feels better about himself and is more comfortable in his life.  Who are we to judge what this person does?    

This leads to my final point (there are more, but I must end this): The Kardashians.  Again, I will keep my personal opinions about the family out of this (although, if you are friends with me on Facebook or in real life, you already know).  It is no secret that she is getting a divorce after only two months of marriage.  Many believe the entire relationship, including the wedding, marriage and the divorce were all for money.  Let’s say this is true.  If it is, good for them!!!  While we are all sitting here being angry about something that does not affect us, they are laughing all the way to the bank.  Geniuses!!!  Let’s consider the fact that it wasn’t all for money, though.  This is a person who got married to someone she loved and very quickly after felt the need to get a divorce, for reasons that only they know.  For another human being to feel sorry for them is a good thing!  To be criticized and attacked for feeling genuine regret for another human being is ridiculous and unfair!  Kim Kardashian has gone on record saying that all of the money raised from the wedding was donated to charity, which seemed to be everyone’s biggest concern.  I love the people that talk about celebrities donating to charity.  How much have you donated?  We all sit here and say that we are broke and we can’t afford to donate, etc.  But, are you saying it while your DVR is recording your favorite show off of your 56-inch HD TV?  If you’re reading this you obviously have the internet…how about a smart phone?  And Xbox?  Frankly, anything more than food, shelter and clothing is unnecessary!  But, we all have it!!!  To sit here and judge another person who has more than you for not donating their money to charity (which they did, but you didn’t take the time to research that), is hypocritical.   To judge anyone who makes a different decision than you say you would in that situation is unfair.  We can all talk about what we would do in any given situation, but the fact remains that we will never know unless the situation is presented to us. 

So, while you sit there wondering what color you should dye your hair this time or when to schedule your next manicure; or while you sit there wondering how you’ll pay for your unnecessary cell phone bill, remember that there are people that don’t have the luxury of choice.  There are people that feel like they were born with the wrong parts, or people that aren’t attracted to the “right” sex and people that regretfully married the wrong person.  All of this happens while you sit there and judge, not realizing that you’re part of the problem.  Stop worrying so much about what other people are doing with their lives and start paying more attention to your own.  By the way:  where are your children while you’re reading this?  I hope they’re not dressing in drag and thinking about changing their gender. 

Here's a few songs to drive the point home.  Lyrics are everything.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TlrGem1QUR8&feature=related

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rlVEsge6ffo

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jYa1eI1hpDE&ob=av2e

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t9h4aQ9Zs9M

Nostalgia

I've always been a sentimental person and I've always been too emotional for my own good.  As I've gotten older, I've learned how to deal with some things better (like sadness and love), but I've also gotten worse with others (like anger).  As far back as I can remember, I've been a saver.  I save everything!  I remember a "memory box" I used to have (which was actually just an old tin box my mom used to have with old college flags on it...no idea where it came from), and the "boyfriend box" I still have.  I also, as a teenager, used to print out online conversations and email exchanges I had with different boys in my life and I saved them all in a binder that I still have labeled "boys."  Every few years I come across the binder and the box and I decide it's time to move on and let go of the past.  Not surprisingly, I get caught up in reading the letters that are in there and remember where that rose came from or who gave me that ring.  But, since I've been with Ryan since high school, a lot of the things in there are from him.  And just today, on this random, unseasonal snowy day in October, I was shuffling through the old boyfriend box.  90% of the stuff in there is from Ryan, naturally.  It's mostly Valentine's Day and birthday cards from the early days, but there's some letters in there that we wrote to each other.  I'll admit that they weren't the typical love letters.  Our relationship got off to a rough start and the letters mostly revolved around that.  In recent weeks, I've managed to dig up email conversations between friends and family; I still have an online conversation with someone from almost 10 years ago from the exact moment I decided I wanted to be with Ryan and some of the letters I found today talked about how I couldn't imagine my life without him in it (from five months into the relationship).  I've realized that because of my almost obsessive need to keep things, I essentially have my entire relationship with Ryan documented.  From the moment I realized I liked him (awesome diary entry, by the way), to the day he asked me out, to my suspicions that he was going to propose (and frustrations that he hadn't yet), all the way down to our wedding day.  And that is the reason I can't get rid of these things.  It's not because I can't let go or because I'm holding onto the past or harboring some feelings for an old crush (though they've all played an important part).  It's because all of this has made me who I am.  Every one of these conversations, every picture, every person along the way has, in some way or another, played a part in getting us to where we are today.  Every boy I ever dated, or wanted to date in high school, eventually led me to Ryan (one of them even nudging the relationship along).  A lot of the emails and conversations are intertwined, because, let's face it, who only focuses on one guy at a time in high school?  I have poems that I wrote about him before we started dating and others I wrote after.  And I've always felt the need to label and date everything.  So, there's a good chance that I could combine everything together in date order and create this amazing tribute to our relationship. 
   
I regret that I don't write as much as I used to (though I've been making a conscious effort to try) and I definitely don't save as much as I used to.  I don't take as many pictures or see as many movies or go out on as many dates.  But, I am so thankful that I have all of these great memories saved.  I read the letters and the emails and realize that, while everything is different, not much has changed.  I saw a lot of fights and disagreemens play out in these memory boxes and binders, but I also saw them get resolved.  I saw a lot of passion come from a girl who felt so much and who so desperately wanted to mean something to someone.  I was always a believer in love.  It's apparent from all of my poetry and all of my love letters (some that were never sent) that the only thing I ever wanted in life was to love and be loved.  The only thing I ever wanted was to have someone by my side to go through life with, to support me through all the good times and all the bad times and to lend me a shoulder when I just had to let it out.  I am so glad that that girl found what she was looking for, and she found it early.  I mention in one of the letters that I knew right away that things with Ryan were different.  I knew I wanted them to be different and that he meant more to me than anyone else ever did.  I remember feeling like that with a lot of guys, but I also remember knowing when it was actually love and not some crazy high school infatuation.  And I'm glad it was different, and I'm glad we both realized it and fought so hard for each other.  I never doubted that every tear was worth it and every fight would make us stronger and that good things do, in fact, come to those who wait.  I'm glad I've always found the importance in the little things and always realized that someday all of these seemingly childish emails would mean something.  I have so much of my life preserved and I'm glad, because I don't ever want to forget the girl that I was.  I might have been miserable for most of my teen years (and parts of my 20s), and some of the stuff from that time is hard for me to read.  But, I think it's important for us all to remember where we came from and the journey we took to get us to where we are today.   

The Pursuit of Happiness

Well, it's been a while since I've been able to write something new; and I don't really have much to say now, but I really want to keep this thing going, so I figured I better write something.
This past weekend, I attended a family party where lots of people were more than willing to give the newlyweds (that would be me & my new husband) life advice.  While one uncle was kindly giving us financial advice (and he's pretty loaded, so I should probably take it...) another was telling us to travel the world before we have childen.  Yet another relative was telling us not to wait to have children, because there will always be a reason why it's not a good time.  Regardless of the advice, we'll do it our way, when we feel we're ready (as we've always done), but one thing is for sure; when the time does come, the only thing that will matter is that child's happiness.   

Last week, I was having a discussion with a friend who is dating someone of a different faith.  The parents more or less do not approve of the relationship because of the differing religious views and are more than willing to let their child know of their disapproval.  Naturally, the child (er...grown child...) is upset and shares the information with the significant other, making a pretty ugly situation all around.  So, this all led to a discussion on Facebook (as usual) about parents who don't realize how badly they're screwing up their kids.  Every parent makes mistakes and every parent, without a doubt is going to disagree with their child on something.  But, I can't imagine wanting anything, but happiness for my child. 

We all know how I feel about religion by now, but if my kid came home with a Bible in their hand, preaching the Word, sure, I'd be a little disappointed and thrown off, but as long as they were happy, that would be enough for me.  If they started dating someone of a different race or nationality or someone with different political views, would I care?  Absolutely not.  To each his own.  I think, at times, my own parents tried to encourage me by discouraging me and most of the time it had the opposite effect.  Instead of being encouraged to do my homework and study harder, I was told that my grades would only get me into community college.  I believe that was supposed to motivate me, but instead it made me feel like it didn't matter and also made me feel that community college wasn't good enough.  That's a common misconception.  Community college is good enough and it makes a lot of sense.  You'll pay half the tuition, get the same education and be able to transer and still get your degree from a major university.  Thankfully, I'm aware of that now and no harm was done.  But, I remember the days of feeling like I wasn't good enough.  I remember the days of feeling like my "average" grades weren't good enough and the days of feeling like my comfortable way of dressing wasn't pretty enough.  And during college, I remember feeling like my degree of choice was useless and the career path I chose wasn't possible.  It's never intentional and it's never malicious, but parents have a huge impact on the way their children view the world.  I'm not sure what it was that made me see things my own way instead of just giving up and becoming who I was told I already was...maybe it was the short time I lived at school in West Chester...getting away from my parents and the rest of my family and experiencing the world for myself.  I was far from "on my own," but I was away from my everyday influences and it allowed me to see the world from an outside view.  Sure, I was terrified...I might not have been far from home (thirty minute drive), but it was the longest I'd ever been away and it was still weird waking up somewhere else; but I knew I had to force myself out of that comfort zone.  I was unhappy living at home.  I always felt different.  Part of me always felt like I was with the wrong family.  No one else in my family shares my love of books or my talent for writing.  No one else seems to be as sensitive as me and certainly no one seems to be as open-minded or as honest.  I guess it's something I've fought with my whole life and I knew, when the time came, that I needed to go away to college.  I picked one close enough to home that I could still see Ryan regularly and also close enough that if I hated living there, I could commute...but it was enough.  It was enough for me to see that everyone has their own style (the way I dress is just fine); their own ending goal (it took me a while to find mine, before the obvious choice of an editor hit me) and ultimately their own path in life (mine includes a family).  The way my parents do things isn't necessarily the way I have to do things and the way I do things isn't how my children will do them.  I'm sure it's hard to see your child make different decisions than you, especially whan yours worked out so well, but in the end, isn't happiness the ultimate goal for everyone?  Don't we all just want to wake up in the morning feeling like it's a good day and feeling like our life has value and meaning?  I can think of nothing worse than taking the path my family expected me to...I had a taste of it for almost a year and it was miserable.  I'm glad it worked out for those that chose it, but it wasn't right for me.  And while I've still got a long way to go before I come close to my career goal, the rest of my life is right on track and I couldn't be happier.  I hope for nothing more than that for my children.

Stay Home and Shut Up

I'm going to start this one by admitting that it makes me nervous.  It's something I feel strongly about and probably makes me angrier than it should (as most things do), but I already know that it's going to piss people off.  I know people are going to disagree and I already know what the arguments are going to be.  So, I will apologize first for anyone I offend and please don't take this as a judgment of your character if it applies to you.  If you are reading this we are probably friends and you probably already know about my inability to keep my mouth shut, so I hope you'll either agree with it or disagree and let it go (which is something I'm incapable of doing). 

It makes me insane when stay-at-home moms talk about their "job" as if it's the hardest one ever.  Yes, raising children is hard, (so I've heard), yes it's the hardest job ever and yes, I'm sure it's also the most rewarding.  It's also 24 hours a day, and seven days a week with no holidays or sick days, or pay checks, etc.  If it's something you can afford to do and something you choose to do, then good for you.  However; I am so tired of stay-at-home moms acting like it's harder than having a full-time job and raising a family.  Now, I don't have children, so I already know someone will have something to say about that.  But, really...hear me out.  Let's use my mother as an example, because, well, it's the best one I know.  My mother has worked a full-time job since I was born.  I have no doubt, she would have loved to stay home with her children every day, but it wasn't in the cards for her and she needed to work.  She got us out of the bed in the morning, dropped us off at the baby-sitter's or school, worked an eight hour day, then picked us up, cooked us dinner, packed our lunches and cleaned the house.  Every. Single. Day.  She got weekends and holidays off from her job, but not from being a mother.  She had one full-time job and the permanent, forever job of being a mother.  She put a roof over our heads and food on our table and still managed to help us with our homework if we needed it and take us on vacations and trips as a family.  All of this while holding down a full-time job.  Parenting is not a "job."  It's something you do because you want to.  So, if you stay at home with your children and someone asks you if you "work," the answer is no.  You do not have a job.  You are a parent.  Why is that hard to say or comprehend?  It's not asked in a condescending way and (usually) you are not being judged, it's a question.  Frankly, to say that your job, which requires all the same things as any other mother is more difficult feels like a slap in the face to my own mother.  I'm insulted on her behalf at the insinuation that her job wasn't as hard as yours. 

Now, as I mentioned, I don't have children, so I don't truly know what is entailed in raising one.  I know it's not easy and I know it's exhausting and I know it's rewarding.  My day will come and I look forward to it more than anything else in my life.  I will, however, continue to work, because I want to.  It won't make me a bad mother and it won't make those that stay at home a better mother than me.  I don't want to be defined by my job or by my opinions or by my children...I want be defined by ALL of it.  If you want to be a mother, be a mother, but please, please, please don't act like your job is better or harder than anyone elses.  And please stop complaining about how difficult things are financially.  You made the choice, now live with it.  Deal with it.  Make it work.  I cannot imagine coming home from work after eight hours and having to raise children.  The mere thought of it exhausts me, but I have no doubt it's worth it.  I CAN however, imagine having children and being able to take a break while they nap or getting a little extra housework done while they nap.  Or packing lunches while they nap.  Instead of having to do that after I come home from a long day of work while my children are still awake and need me.  The time management alone is enough to make me crazy.  And I'm sure every mother in the world wishes she could spend every waking moment with her children, playing with them, teaching them, watching them grow.  The sad reality is that most people can't afford it and some that can simply don't want to.  It doesn't mean they don't want to be around their children.  It means they don't want to lose themselves.  Mothers are still people.  They still have things they enjoy and things they want to do.  For some of them, it's a career.  For some, it's school.  And for others it's being the best wife and mother she can be.  All of these choices are fine, but make the choice and shut up about it.  I don't care how hard you work every day.  It's great that you think you're a fantastic mother and I'm sure that you are.  I'm sure your children and your husband appreciate everything that you do, but stop talking about it as if it's more important and more rewarding and harder than what others do. 

Again, I'm not saying that being a mother isn't hard, I'm just tired of some stay-at-home moms talking about it as if staying home with their children is the only way to do it.  I'm tired of them patting themselves on the back as if it's harder than maintaining a full-time job and a family.  I give credit to every single mother on the planet who raises her children the way she thinks is best and in the best way she can.  Every parent makes mistakes and every parent has a different way of raising their children.  None of them are wrong, so long as they stick to their convictions.  If your children end up happy and healthy and well-adjusted then good for you.  But, please stop bragging about doing it while you're at home with your children and millions of other mothers are not.  Maybe I'm wrong, though.  Maybe in five years, when I have children of my own (hopefully), I will be singing a whole different tune.  Maybe I'll be writing a blog about how insane mothers are who decide to work full-time.  Until that day, I'm sticking with this.  Raise your kids the way you want to, stick to what you believe in and if you want to stay home, then stay home and shut up.

Comfort From the Past

As some of you may know, I've been in the process of reading books that have been previously banned or challenged over the years.  Yesterday, I started "Anne Frank: The Diary of a Young Girl."  This is a book that I've started several times in my life and have never finished.  This time, I can't put it down.  I've read more than half of the book in less than 24 hours.  It's actually rather unfortunate that I never finished it before, because I find myself learning a lot and feeling a deep connection with this young girl from sixty years ago.  Aside from the fact that she is an amazing writer, especially considering the fact that she wrote solely for her own eyes, I feel like I was this girl.  Everything I read reminds me of the girl I used to be (and often still am).  Now, obviously, I can't relate to the true loneliness and frustration she feels and the oppression of her people while her family hides from the Germans and fears for their lives. But, all of that aside, I can relate to the loneliness she feels even though she's surrounded by so many other people.  I can understand how frustrated she is that no one understands her and the constantly feeling ridiculed and made fun of by her own family, because she is honest and real and emotional.  I've always been that girl.  I've always been the one that will tell you the truth and lay all my cards on the table.  I've always been the girl that cries when I'm in trouble or angry or sad or frustrated-especially frustrated.  You watch this girl grow up before your eyes and learn things about herself that she probably would not have realized was she not in captivity for so long. 

The last time I remember trying to read this book was way back in fifth grade, when I was ten years old.  I'm sure there was an attempt or two after that, but I remember this time in particular because I remember writing a book report on it and being proud that I got a good grade without having finished the book.  I find myself wishing that this girl had been my friend in middle school and high school.  It's remarkable how much we had in common and how desperately we both needed each other at the time.  This young girl with an opinion and thirst for knowledge, who has so much to say and no real audience to share it with.  This intelligent young woman who is so painfully misunderstood by the people she is closest to.  I find myself wanting to reach out and hug her and tell her that it will be okay in the end.  And at the same time, I sense that she realized that.  What an incredibly optimistic girl in a painfully miserable situation. 

I've always been a bit sentimental and definitely far too emotional for my own good, but it appears I'm softening even more as I get older (ugh!!!).  Simple things make me cry anymore; from seeing a father with his child at the mall to seeing a woman find the wedding dress of her dreams or an elderly person doing their own yard work.  Things in my everyday life make me well up and appreciate more of what I have and work harder for what I want.  And I definitely find myself having a deeper connection to the books I read.  I used to read for pleasure and because it was something that helped me remove myself from my own reality and implant myself into someone else's fantasy.  But, lately, I've been reading more for knowledge and having a much deeper reaction to the characters in the book.  It's almost like I'm learning about myself by reading someone else's words.  I'm not sure if this comes with age or if it's just where I am in my life now, where I'm more willing to accept my own faults and admit to myself what I need to work on.  I do know for certain that I almost feel less alone when I'm reading these books.  I finished a book just the other night about a girl who feels like an outcast in her own family (not one of my banned books) and couldn't believe the connection I felt to that girl as well.  It makes me feel a little silly to have such a connection to a fictitious character, but it comforts me as well to know that I'm not alone.  And the young Anne Frank brought that home to me even more.  I may not be that crazy, lonely, terrified thirteen-year-old girl anymore, but I am most definitely still the same person...just a little bit more mature.  It pains me to see that this girl didn't live long enough to realize her full potential, because I have no doubt she would have made a difference in the world.  Although, even in death, she made a difference.  Her journals touched so many lives and helped so many people and I only hope that someday I have a daughter as strong-willed and opinionated as she was.

Old-Fashioned Communication

Last night, I gave up Facebook...just for a day; mostly because I was doubted.  There's a bigger, sort of deeper reason why, though and I didn't really realize it until after the fact (I have an hour and a half left before my full day is up).  I thought maybe I'd get more done or spend more time with my husband and just feel better about myself all around.  None of these things happened.  I managed to finish a book I was reading, my husband played video games all night (a typical Wednesday night, because it's the only night he can stay up late to play) and I've been sitting here all day feeling a little bit lonely and out of touch.  It has, however, forced me to think about things.  I posted something yesterday that had a little bit too much information (not "dirty" TMI, but intimate details, I suppose) and a friend called me out on it.  She told me I posted too many intimate details on Facebook and then I got mad when people used them against me.  All true.  So, after being annoyed that I got called out and having doubt put into my head about what I post, I decided to just try to give it up altogether.  I clearly can't be trusted to just post less and it's too hard for me not to get into something while I'm on there.  I've threatened a few times now to stop using it and quite a few people have begged me not to, because supposedly my updates make them laugh.  While I'm thrilled that I make so many people laugh and I love that people are paying that much attention, it's also starting to freak me out.  I've been thinking about how much simpler things used to be.  The days when the world was less connected.  I can remember when three-way calling was such a big deal and it was exciting to be able to talk to two of your friends at once, when you were all in different places!!  I remember going to the mall with friends and having to call collect from a pay phone and instead of saying my name at the beep, trying to squeeze in my message "momit'smecomepickmeup."  Now, everywhere you go, you're connected to everyone you know.  You can log onto Facebook on your phone...which now goes wherever you do and it's completely unheard of not to have one or to have left it at home.  You can now "check in" to any place you want to, thus letting the world know exactly where you are and when you're there.  You don't even have to personally know someone to know where they live; what they look like; how many kids they have and how old they are; where they work; what time they get HOME from work; who their best friends are; what their significant others' name is and how long they've been together; what they had for dinner, etc.  You get the point.  We can post music videos or newspaper articles or links to favorite pages.  It started out as a good thing (and in some ways still is), but it's opened all of us to so much more ridicule and hatred than we should ever be exposed to.  It's not so simple anymore to just walk away from a bully, because now they're on the internet.  They might be one of your own friends who just enjoys antagonizing everyone and arguing for the sake of arguing.  Or they might be a friend of a friend, thus making it almost impossible to comment on anything your friend says, for fear of being attacked by this antagonist.  We're too over-exposed anymore and it's making everyone angry. 
(Sort of a side note) Does anyone else remember the days when talking about who we voted for was a taboo subject?  It used to be a secret which party you belonged to or who you planned on voting for in the next election.  Now, voting is the next biggest fad.  It's another way for those that DO vote to make those that DON'T vote think they're better than them.  "You should vote or you have no right to complain."  I disagree with this.  I will admit that I am not even registered to vote.  I dont follow politics and I don't undertand politics, so I leave it up to those that DO know, to make the decisions.  I find this to be a perfectly reasonable excuse and I'm tired of being criticized for it.  Frankly, if you DO vote, you have no reason to complain.  You're the one that voted for this person!!  You picked him and all of the philosophies he had.  Any of the decisions that this person makes, good or bad, fall back on the voters.  If you voted for him, you have no right to complain about what he does.  I did not vote for him.  Therefore, I can complain about those who did.  At this point, it's a matter of the lesser of two evils.  They all lie to get the votes and then they do what they want when in office.  If we left the voting up to those who knew what they were really doing and didn't make it such a big deal for EVERYONE to vote, maybe we'd start having some politicians who know what they're doing as well.  Trendy voters vote for trendy candidates.  Here's an example of why I don't vote.  Two candidates were running.  One of them wanted to start tolling a major highway that I drive to work every single day-no thanks.  The other one wanted to make abortion illegal-also no thanks.  I was told that I needed to pick which one of those issues was more important and vote for that.  How about no?  I don't agree with EITHER of those, so why would I vote for either of them?  It makes no sense to me!


Facebook has made it easier and easier for people who think their way of life and their opinions and their standards are the only ones to shove it in everybody else's faces.  And while it is entirely true that I don't care what other people think of me, I'm starting to be uncomfortable with the amount of information people know.  I'm an open book and I'll tell you whatever it is you want to know, but it's really pretty unneccesary for me to share it with 300 of my "friends."  I have family members, co-workers, ex-friends, ex-boyfriends, people I hate, people I don't even KNOW and even one of my husbands co-workers on my friends list.  There is nothing in the world I can say that won't get back to someone who shouldn't hear it.  While I generally try to shy away from the latest fads, I somehow managed to get so completely caught up in Facebook that my life revolves around it.  The last 23 hours have been more difficult than I expected.  I'm suddenly so un-connected from everyone.  I have no idea what's going on with my favorite shows, or where all my friends are or what the latest annoyance is today.  Sadly enough, Facebook is where I get my NEWS!!  So now, while I'm definitely going to go back to using it because I hate the feeling of being disconnected, I will absolutely cut back on the amount of things I post and how involved it is in my life.  There is no reason to tell people what I'm having for lunch or how cold it is at my desk.  With my new free time I will make my house a little bit more presentable, watch some movies or go out to dinner with my husband or polish off the pile of 50+ books waiting to be read.  And maybe I'll get a little more educated the old-fashioned way.

Crazy is as Crazy Does

Today I'm having one of those days where I just don't really like myself.  For the most part, I'm pretty thick-skinned.  I have to be.  But, I'm sure it's no secret that my sarcasm and my "bite me" attitude, at times, is my defense.  I have days of unbearable guilt, though and I can't stand it.  I'm sure we can all say that we were just a nightmare from ages twelve until about twenty, right?  It's just part of growing up and hormones and rebellion...all part of finding yourself.  My mom and I had some pretty nasty fights back in the day.  The best ones were when we would go clothes shopping.  Naturally, I hated just about everything I tried on.  It either didn't fit or I just didn't like the way it looked.  Typical girl.  She always tried to get me to buy the clothes that "everyone else is wearing."  Hands down, that's got to be the most annoying thing for me to hear.  I'm pretty sure that's where my "I do what I want and if you don't like it, don't talk to me" attitude started.  I can't stand being told that I should wear or do or be something just because it's what everyone else is doing.  It's infuriating...and incredibly frustrating, especially when you're trying to figure out exactly who YOU are.  My mom still likes to bring these fights up...often.  She apparently thinks it's funny now that it's in the past.  I guess it is...but we had one fight about ten years ago...the fight to end all fights.  It was bad and it was ugly and I believe it ended (or started...?) with me screaming from the dressing room "YOUR OPINION DOESN'T MATTER!!!!!"  I just couldn't get her to understand that it didn't matter if SHE liked the outfit...it mattered if I liked it.  Afterall, I was the one that had to wear it.  In any case, the shopping trip was over after that and I rarely wore the outfit we were fighting about (mostly because it reminded me of that awful fight).  She didn't talk to me for days after that, even sending someone else to pick me up from band practice or from work.  We ended up emailing each other about it (how modern) and I cried...a lot...and felt terrible.  It's definitely one of those moments in my life I desperately wish I could erase.  And without fail, every single time it's brought up, I lose it.  I remember the anger I felt at the time and I remember the embarrassment my mother felt.  I wish I was the kind of person that could let things go.  I dwell on things for YEARS.  I had to take this stupid test for a job once and the results showed that I apparently lack empathy.  The person in charge of the testing was surprised...others were not.  I find it comical, because it's the perfect example of how misunderstood I am.  Yeah, I know...everyone says that, but I actually had someone say to me recently "you always say you're misunderstood and I'm starting to realize that you really are."  I have certain views and certain opinions that make it SEEM like I lack empathy, but I absolutely do not.  There are two major moments in my life where I remember seriously upsetting someone else (above story being one of them) and every single time either one of them enters my mind for even a moment, the tears start flowing.  I can't handle the pain I caused this other person.  It kills me.  But, as soon as the stories are brought up, the defenses go up and I appear un-empathetic.  I want to say I wish we could all move past it, but it seems like I'm the only one that hasn't.  It was so many years ago and others are laughing about it, but it kills me every time.  What is wrong with me?  And then I start to feel stupid, because I get the whole "Oh, I was just messing with you, it's funny NOW!" excuse and I feel like I'm overreacting.  What the hell?
I like to think I have a good sense of humor, especially about myself, so why can't I take THIS joke?  Clearly, my mother is over it...
Ugh! I can't even keep a train of thought on this one.  I'm all over the place.  It's frustrating to actually know who you are and have the rest of the world see someone different.  I don't want to be all emo, "no one understands me," because I'm sure I'm partially to blame for it.  Maybe it's my delivery, or my willingness to share my thoughts...but I really do cry at the drop of a hat.  The elderly absolutely break my heart.  I remember working at BJ's and every time an older person would come through my check-out line alone, I'd make up some story in my head about why they were alone.  It was always some horribly sad story about their husband or wife dying after fifty years together and they're on their first grocery shopping trip alone.  It's usually old men, because, for some stereotypical reason, I assume they're much more lost without their significant others than women are.  And children get me too.  It almost pains me to see a child and not give them a hug.  I'm the creepy lady that always smiles at children and tries to get babies to laugh.  They just break me...and if I could afford it, I'd have a houseful of my own, I'd open myself up to adoption and foster children (which I'm sure I wouldn't be able to handle).  I feel bad for other people every single day, but it's not the "right" people, I guess, so it doesn't count. 
Part of the problem is that I don't let everyone see that.  I bawled my eyes out during the movie "Up."  I watched it with Ryan thinking I was watching this happy Disney movie and I bawled from beginning to end...saddest movie I've ever seen in my life.  But, I DIDN'T cry during "Marley & Me."  I dislike dogs and the one in that movie made me angry and annoyed me...but, really I think Owen Wilson's dreadful acting ruined the whole thing for me.  The point is that, if I had been watching either of those with my family, I probably would have either left the room or turned it off.  But, since I was with Ryan the tears flowed easily and shamelessly.  I don't cry in front of my family...or any of my friends really.  Ryan is the only one that gets 100% all the time.  I'm not really sure why that is.  I'm not sure where that fear of letting it all hang out comes from, but I definitely have my guard up around everyone else.  It's not that I lack empathy...it's that I act on impulse, let the feelings stew and dwell on the pain for years.  I'm sure this is immensely unhealthy, but I like to think it's that guilt that keeps me on my toes.  It prevents me from making the same mistakes twice.  I wouldn't be able to handle hurting someone like that again.  It would literally kill me.  I guess the moral of the story is that while I'm not very good at acting "like a girl," the emotions of one definitely run deep.  Or, maybe I'm just crazy.   

A Lesson in Feminism

I'm so tired of men thinking they know what women want!  And I'm tired of the bad reputation feminists get.  The truth is, people don't actually understand feminism...a lot of self-proclamined feminists don't even know what they think they stand for.  I took a feminist poetry class in college and I remember that suddenly Ryan couldn't do anything right!  He made me promise never to take a feminism class again.  Unfortunately, when it came to my last semester, I needed to fill a credit with a "pointless" class and the easiest one I could find was another feminism class.  This one was very different though and I loved it!!  It was a three-hour lecture, but I went excitedly every single day and I couldn't wait to talk all about it with Ryan afterward!  Even he eventually admitted that it wasn't what he had expected.  It's a common misconception that feminits believe in women's rights...false.  They believe in equal rights.  Let me explain:

If you tell a man you're a feminist they think you expect them to hold the door open for you, pull out your chair, pay for every meal or date you go on, etc.  WRONG!!  It's exactly the opposite.  And to be honest, I hadn't realized I was a feminist until I took that class.  I don't expect Ryan to do any of that.  In fact, on our honeymoon I told him that when I saw a man pull out a chair for his girlfriend/wife, I sometimes thought "that would be nice," but then I instantly changed to "I'm glad Ryan doesn't do that.  It seems controlling and a little bit awkward."  I legitimately feel like he would just be in my way.  I can pull out my own chair and I can certainly open my own door.  Now, before you get all huffy and ranting and raving about how "chivalrous" it is, let me tell you where this "chivalry" started.  It came about in the days when women had no rights.  Men opened doors and pulled out chairs for women, because it was believed that women were physically incapable of doing it themselves.  It was not chivalry at all.  It was controlling and demeaning.  And frankly...it still is.  Think about it.  How fair is it to expect your man to do all these things for you that you're not willing to do for him?  Would you ever open the door for him or pull out his chair?  Would you ever pay for your meal or your date?  I told Ryan on our very first date that I hated being paid for.  That changed and loosened over time, because it made him feel better when I let him pay.  But, over the years, he didn't always have enough money to take me out, and since it was something I still wanted to do, I gladly paid for both.  I see absolutely nothing wrong with that and frankly, a man should be happy to have an independent woman who doesn't need him. 

Someone said to me once that men don't marry women anymore because we don't expect anything from them anymore.  I wholeheartedly disagree with that.  We expect less from men, which, I feel, takes the pressure off of them.  I know Ryan waited so long, because there were things we wanted to do before we got married.  We wanted to be established in our careers, we wanted to own a house, pay off some bills, etc.  We wanted to be financially stable as individuals before we could build a life together.  Women are more independent now, thankfully!!!  They don't need men anymore.  Maybe that makes men feel intimidated.  I don't really know, but if that's the case it's silly.  A relationship should be 100% equal (I won't get started on stay-at-home moms because I know many, who are GREAT people, but I will say this...especially in our economy, I find it selfish and I think it puts way too much pressure on the working parent...God forbid something happen to them or their job...then what?).  When women expect something from their man that they're not willing to do for him, it irks me on a level I cannot even begin to describe.  I have many times gotten out of the car and ran around to open Ryan's door...usually when he has his hands full or he's carrying something for me.  I have held the door open for him numerous times and I've already mentioned that I often pay for meals or other outings (which doesn't matter anymore, since we now share an account).  That's how it should be.  It's not about women's rights, it's about it being equal.

I was talking with someone else about a friend of theirs who is going through a divorce after only a year and a half.  This person believed that the reason was because nothing changed after they got married...umm...wrong!!  I'm sure there are numerous reasons, but not changing after marriage is ridiculous.  She married who she married knowing who he was.  If she expected him to change, then the mistake was hers.  People asked me all the time what I expected to change when we got married...back in the days when I so desperately begged for it to happen.  The answer was nothing.  I didn't expect anything to change.  I didn't want anything to change!  Why should it?  If Ryan suddenly started opening doors for me and pulling out my chair I'd probably ask him what the hell he was doing and what he wanted.  (I almost clumped planning romantic dinners in there too, but that would be awesome...never going to happen, though and I'm okay with that!!).  I'm not sure why people expect things to change so drastically after marriage...unless, of course, they don't already live together.  I 100% believe couples should live together before they get married.  Ryan and I were together seven years before we moved in together and there were still things I didn't know about him.  You never truly know someone until you've lived with them.  And I read a statistic somewhere that said couples that live together before marriage are more likely to get divorced.  This is probably true...however it doesn't mean what it implies.  It implies that people get divorced because they lived together first.  Again...wrong.  It's pretty simple and it all basically comes back to religion.  Generally, people that wait until after marriage to live together are either religious or pretty conservative (or both).  This means, they are 100% against divorce, under any circumstances.  People that live together first are the opposite.  Now, I'm not saying that divorce is always the answer and it certainly is not something I'd like to imagine for me & Ryan, BUT it just means the rules aren't as strict for them.  If Ryan cheated on me or did something unforgivable, I would absolutely divorce him.  If our marriage just wasn't happy anymore and I found myself upset more often than I was happy, I would divorce him (if counseling didn't work, of course).  I would rather die than be unhappy.  I refuse to stay in an unhappy marriage.  In my opinion, the more conservative people would suck it up and pretend to be happy, because it's against their religion to divorce, just as it's against their religion to live together before marriage.  I hope I explained that well enough.

Ryan and I are always honest and always equal.  There are no divided chores (although I do most of the cooking, simply because I'm home from work first)...he does the dishes, I take out the trash, but we'll switch if it's more convenient.  While other couples would flip out at the mention of another man or woman, we joke about it and have fun with it.  It's not uncommon for Ryan to tell me how attractive another girl is and what it is about her that makes her so attractive...and he often suggests I try it.  It's also not uncommon for me to tell him that I "want to rip (another guy's) pants off."  It's honest and it's real and it means absolutely nothing.  On the very rare occasion, it does bother me and I've felt that pang of jealousy once or twice, but it really doesn't happen often and it throws us both off when it does.  We both know that at the end of the day, we come home to each other.  No matter how hot that other guy or girl is, it doesn't matter, because we chose each other and we chose each other for a reason.  I know he loves me unconditionally and in the best way that he can and he knows the same is true for me with him.  I laugh at our relationship often, because I always feel that from an outsiders' perspective it seems dysfuntional.  But, I truly believe it's extremely healthy.  There's no secrets, there's no hurt feelings...there are occasionaly misunderstandings when one of us is in a silly mood and the other one is not, but they're smoothed over quickly and we're right back to laughing.  If your wife asks if she looks fat in an outfit, tell her the truth!  She'll probably be mad at you for a minute (or a few hours...or days), but I know I'd rather know if I looked awful than go out looking awful!  I can't comprehend why that's a big deal.  Don't ask the question if you don't want the truth!! 

I'm sure there's always going to be those differences that will never quite be accepted for the opposite sex and there are definitely obvious physical differences, but if we stop taking everything so seriously, it will stop being so serious!  There will always be racists and there will always be misogynists, and in both cases some of the sterotypes are definitely true, but if we stop putting so much emphasis on them, we can eliminate the meaning behind them.  Maybe men & women will never make the same salaries and we'll never be able to use the same bathrooms (I'm okay with that one), but if we can at least start treating each other as we expect to be treated, we're headed in the right direction.

Montego Bay-Days 7 & 8

There's not much to tell after Saturday, so I've condensed it into one post.  Sunday was our last full day and I was bummed out, but we were taking it easy.  We started off with the breakfast buffet, as always and then headed back to the private island.  We wanted to see what it looked like in the daytime without the rain.  There wasn't much to do there, but it's very pretty.  Ryan ordered a drink and we played with the parrot, "Diana" who liked when you whistled "Pop Goes the Weasel" or sang "You Are My Sunshine." 



Diana

After that, we just walked around scoping out the island, checking out views and seeing what we could see.  Luckily, we were warned that the back side of the island was "clothing optional," so we made sure to steer clear! 



Some random island statue



Ryan drinking his drink in front of a bar that wasn't open yet



CRAB!!!



Our resort from the island







The Thai restaurant that we ate at earlier in the week



After we came back from the island we spent some time in our private pool for a while and then ventured back over to the main pool.  There was a game of "battle of the sexes" going on and we played while hanging out with David & Lo (the guys won).  We took a break for lunch, then met them back on the beach where they played beach volleyball.  After the fish incident earlier in the week, I refused to go back in the water, so poor Ryan swam around by himself and I watched David & Lo play volleyball.  On the way back to our room, we played a game of giant chess, where Ryan beat me.  I started off strong (got his queen right away!!), but he beat me in the end. 

We finally decided to take a dip in one of the resort's many hot tubs after that, but we didn't stay long.  The hot water seriously irritated my bug bites and it was obvious we were just trying to kill some time.  We headed back to our room after that and ordered room service for dinner. 

The day before I couldn't wait to go home and sleep in my own bed and eat American food, but by Sunday I was pretty bummed out.  It was our last night there.  We packed after dinner, then walked around a little bit looking for David & Lo again so we could say good-bye (they were leaving the next day too).  We finally ran into them and exchanged email addresses and last names to find each other on Facebook and we took a great picture of the four of us!

We hung out at our room that night with Zack & Robin having drinks outside and being bummed out about leaving.  Robin told us a cute story about her & Zack's one year anniversary and tried to implant some romanticism into Ryan (I'm pretty sure it didn't work) and then we called it a night.

Monday was pretty boring.  Our flight wasn't until 5:15, but checkout was at 11.  Neither one of us slept well Sunday night, because our butler phone was beeping through the night letting us know it was dying.  We didn't want to turn it off in case they tried to call us in the morning for check-out.  It died shortly after we woke up anway, so a lot of good that did...We ate breakfast, got a couple of drinks at the bar and waited until 10:30, when Calvin was supposed to come get our bags.  He didn't show up and we assumed (correctly) that it was because he couldn't get a hold of us.  So, we went straight to the concierge office to check out anyway and left our bags in the room.  They called Calvin to come get our bags and the waiting began...it was still only 11am by that point and our bus to the airport wasn't arriving until 2:15.  We had packed our bathing suits, so we couldn't swim or hit the beach and we were in our traveling clothes (which were jeans), so we were insanely hot.  We hung out in the lobby for a while until the lunch buffet opened at 12:30 (it seriously felt like we just killed time until the next meal all week).  Of course, we were the first ones in line and I ended up being much hungrier than I thought I was.  We played another game of chess after that where Ryan kicked my butt (I barely put up a fight this time) and it was only 1:30 by then.  45 more minutes to kill!!  We went back to the lobby and luckily, Zack & Robin were there waiting for the bus for their flight home, so we hung out with them for a little bit.  After they left, we were concerned that we hadn't seen Hector in a few days, because we hadn't had a chance to give him his tip.  Ryan told concierge and they called him for us.  He showed up at 2:15 almost on the dot and Calvin was right behind him.  It was the first time we saw them both together...and I'm still angry I didn't get a picture!!!  Our bus showed up a minute later and Hector loaded us on and we were off.  The ride was about fifteen minutes with a stop at the Montego Bay resort to drop people off.  We found out the American dollar is worth $84 Jamaican dollars-YIKES! 

At the airport, we waited in line for a while, but still had plenty of time to kill.  The guy across from us was eating cheesy bread from Domino's and it smelled soooo good!  I hate Domino's a lot, but it was so nice to see pizza!!!!  After I complained that Ryan was listening to his music and ignoring me, we walked around the airport until we found out where the Domino's had come from.  So, we ordered our own cheesy bread and Ryan got some pizza and then I found a store that sold magazines (finally!!!) and word searches.  Some entertainment for the flight!!!  There was a lot of turbulence on the flight, which bummed me out, because I actually kind of enjoy flying.  I had been nervous this time around, because I had never flown out of the country before, so my nerves were already on alert.  At one point, the turbulence was so bad, I literally felt the plane drop probably a hundred feet and I almost had a heart attack!  I was getting a little nauseous, which was unusual for me, but I had faith in our pilot and I was glad that child wasn't next to us again!  I was in the middle this time, so there wasn't much I could do, but Ryan was great holding my hand and letting me rest my head on his shoulder.  I spent most of the flight doing the word searches I had just bought.  I remember there being a Kit Kat bar in our in flight meal and we both instantly noticed that it looked different.  It was Nestle...It's probably bad that I knew instantly that Kit Kats are Hershey's and not Nestle, but we got a good laugh out of it! 

We called his parents as soon as we landed and waited a while at baggage claim and then waited even longer outside for them to come get us.  While we waited, I was using my phone to check Facebook and I finally got to see some great wedding pictures our friends had posted while we were away!  When we finally got back to his parents' house, he got a phone call from his sister, Jill telling us that she had just gotten engaged on Friday!!  How exciting!!!  We had an amazing wedding, a great honeymoon and came home to fabulous news, but we were happy to finally be home!!



Montego Bay-Days 5 & 6

Friday was a lazy day for us.  We slept in until 9:30 (I never thought I would refer to 9:30 as "sleeping in"), then hit the breakfast buffet, as always.  Ryan decided he wanted to be near a bar, so we went to the main pool, which I hated, because it was dirty and harder to relax, since there was always so much going on there.  Luckily, I convinced him to bring his drink back to our pool and we relaxed there until our couple's massage (which our butlers set up for us the day before).  Neither one of us had ever had a massage before and we both desperately needed it.  It was hard for me to relax, though, because the blanket was pulled a little tight around my neck and I have issues with things getting too close to my neck....Overall, it was great, though.  We ordered room service after that (mozzarella sticks and chocolate cake for me and a bacon cheeseburger for Ryan).  I was frustrated that day also, because I felt like my legs were still as white as when we got there!!  No matter how much time I spent outside, they just weren't getting tan!  Ryan had also decided that day that we weren't going on any more excursions, because the people trying to sell stuff were too annoying for him (because he can't just learn to say no...).  I was annoyed and a little disappointed, but glad that we might actually come home with some money in our pockets! 
There was a craft fair on the resort that day (which was basically just more of the peddlars trying to sell you stuff) and I went to check it out by myself.  As soon as they see you coming, they're out of their seats and trying to sell you stuff!!  It's crazy!!  I scoped out some things, then came back to get Ryan, who was very hesitant to come with me.  He didn't want to leave the resort anymore for this very reason and now I was dragging him along!  I told him to just keep his mouth shut because I already knew what I wanted and how much I was willing to pay for it.  I got to practice my bargaining skills for real this time!  I managed to get two pieces of jewelry and a magnet made from a coconut for $26!  The magnet was actually funny, because I offered him $7 and then realized I only had $6.  I felt a little bad, but he gave it to me anyway (not without huffing and puffing) and probably STILL made a hefty profit!  After that we spent a lot of time inside watching TV, which was when we both admitted that we kind of wanted to go home.  I was tired of the bug bites and the sunburn and not being able to eat what I want, when I want.  There was definitely not a shortage of food, but I wanted a bag of Doritos and a Dr. Pepper sooooo bad!!  The massage therapist had told me that the oils they used should keep the bugs away, but it definitely had the opposite effect and I was eaten alive again!!  By that point, I had over 25 bug bites that I could count.  On top of that, I had decided not to lotion my legs anymore in an attempt to get them tan...and above my knees ended up burning and below the knees barely got any color at all.  I was convinced I'd be the first person to come home from a week in Jamaica without a tan!! 
We finally decided to walk around for a little bit and went to the beach-side buffet.  They had a nice spread of all kinds of food, some displayed on a kayak!  They had a guy chopping coconuts with a bottle of rum next to him to make your own drinks.  People were drinking them right out of the coconut!  We didn't get one, but we should have...I actually found that I liked the buffet food better than the restaurant food, which I thought was odd.  At this buffet, there was a contortionist, then a guy who danced on nails, then blew fire.  My camera was annoying me, because it doesn't take very good pictures in the dark, so I couldn't really get any good ones.  David & Lo sat with us through dinner (after they realized they were sitting at the table next to us), so it was nice to hang out with them again. 
Sadly, that night was probably the latest we actually stayed out during the whole trip...about 9pm.

Saturday was not the best day for us.  I woke up in a horrible mood!!  How anyone could wake up in a bad mood in paradise is beyond me, but if anyone could find a way, it's me!!  I guess it was the old "too much of a good thing" deal.  If I got one more bug bite, I was ready to jump off a bridge.  I was tired of itching, tired of using tampons (hate them!  TMI, I know...sorry) and tired of not being able to use my car, which I thought I would enjoy...I hated that nothing was spur of the moment and you needed to plan everything out.  I was tired of having the same food to choose from everyday and wearing dirty clothes (totally didn't pack enough) and bathing suits.  I had a dream the night before that we were home and it made me homesick.  We had such a difficult time deciding on a honeymoon, because Ryan wanted just a beach and I wanted somewhere where there was stuff to do and see.  Jamaica was a good compromise.  But, Ryan didn't want to do any more excursions at that point, because it was too much of a hassle and I was crazy bored with the pool and the ocean.  I was definitely ready to come home by then.  I was tired of only being served water or something alcoholic.  I was tired of fat girls who think they can wear bikinis (it actually says that in my journal...again...horrible person...). 
We had asked Hector the night before the reserve us two spots on the beach for the morning.  They were in the usual spot, under the tree where the tide breaks.  This next part is actually a little funny looking back, but it seriously ruined my day (and essentially the rests of the trip).  I have ALWAYS been competely freaked out by sea life.  All week, I had been painfully aware of the tiny fish swimming in the shallow part of the ocean.  I watched my step walking in, making sure they weren't anywhere near me.  Once you were out far enough, they either weren't there or I didn't notice, so I was good to go.  We were having a good time, just relaxing in the water and I kept feeling something brushing my leg.  I assumed it was a leaf from one of the trees on the beach and I ignored it.  But, it wouldn't go away!!  So, I finally looked down to swat it away and there was a big black fish swimming between my legs.  I literally screamed and jumped up and wrapped my legs around Ryan's waist.  Apparently I screamed pretty loud, because the whole beach laughed at me, but I really didn't care.  I was incredibly skeeved and traumatized.  Ryan is still convinced I imagined it, but I'd swear on my life it was a fish!!  Naturally, we were done in the ocean after that (at least I was).  We were just sitting on our beach chairs and I was trying to compose myself for a few minutes and Ryan got up and dipped back in the water for a second before coming back and asking if I wanted to go to the pool.  On the way back to the pool, he told me his little dip back in the water was to wash off the bird poop that just landed on him!  What a horrible morning!!
Not much happend after that.  We went back to our pool for a little bit, then hit the lunch buffet (which we ddin't even know existed until Thursday) and then spent a couple hours watching TV.  We spent a fortune on souvenirs, then back to watching TV.  I kept thinking how I couldn't wait to go home, but the I went out onto the patio with my journal and the fabulous view and amazing weather and I wanted to stay forever.  If only I could have bottled it up and took it with me.  Out of everything we did while we were there, my favorite was just sitting and relaxing and enjoying the weather.  I'm a simple girl. 
The peacock got way too friendly for my comfort level.  It kept wandering onto our porch while we were outside.  At one point, we got scared and went inside and the jumped up on my chair and was checking out the stuff we left on the table.  Then it was drinking out of our pool.  Hector told us they're fine as long as you let them come to you, but if they feel backed into a corner, they will attack.  I didn't take any chances and kept my distance.


I managed to get this awesome picture before we got TOO scared!!

That night, we went to the Italian restaurant at the Montego Bay resort (we were at Royal Caribbean) for dinner.  It was good, but the French still held the first prize.  The bus back to our resort didn't leave for two hours after we finished our dinner, so we had a lot of time to kill.  The resort was a lot bigger than ours, so we walked around for a while.  Some aspects of it were nicer than ours, but none of the rooms seemed to have a very good view.  You could tell that it was geard towards partiers, by the set-up (a huge bar as soon as you walk in) and the general atmosphere and people.  It was directly across the street from the airport, which really freaked me out.  While we were eating dinner, a plane took off and it creeped out to see it that close to us.  But, while we were outside waiting for the bus back, another one took off and we literally saw it racing down the runway.  No doubt we picked the right resort!!