embattled

Snippets from the frontlines of an emotional weekend:

We discovered that we're not moving. There is too much to be done at both places to be using the phrase "We're moving." The limbo is tearing us apart. The new place is 75 percent done, with some very key components - like a bathroom ceiling - missing. The old place is a deplorable mess because I thought it best to box a lot of things and wait for the big move. This meant pulling clothes out of boxes to get dressed every day, clean laundry that wouldn't leave the basket until it was worn, a half-empty, half ready-to-move jungle gym of a closet organizer, and stacks, piles, mountains of laundry to navigate around, trip over, and step on.

This bugs Scott. It bugs him to no end. It bothers him so much that glancing at it on a Saturday morning can ruin his whole weekend, creating a bad mood in him that he subsequently uses to ruin mine.

The solution to all our problems has always been, Mrs. Cat, put your stuff away, and then get rid of stuff that doesn't have a "place." I moved into the apartment in May of 2006, he was partially moved in by November and fully moved in by 2007, and we've been fighting this out since. I wasn't even fully unpacked when he moved in. He started doing things like setting deadlines for unpacking, telling me that I shouldn't leave my watch on the kitchen counter, telling me that I have too many books, and lecturing me on how and when the turtle should be fed.

Now he wants to set out a big black garbage bag and do a big sweep of the apartment and whatever he feels is not in its proper place, he wants to put in the bag and throw out at the end of the week.

Solution or insult?

TBC (and C and C and C) I suspect.

we made four!

Yesterday was our fourth "Amazing" anniversary - the anniversary of our meeting each other at Art After Dark. "Isn't it amazing how many faces the Buddha has?" We really should frame the boddhisattva poster - now would be a great time, since we're moving and have to un-tape it from the wall anyway.

Taking a break right now to read Carolyn Hax - and as always, I stumbled upon something I love. This time the wisdom was shared not by CH but by a WaPo reader, responding to a disgruntled letter writer who complained that he should not have to "read his wife's mind" and that if she wants dinner made by the time she gets home from work, she should say so.

WaPo reader:

Here's the secret to a happy marriage. Contribute every day to what needs to be done. You see something that needs doing, do it. Don't use some transparent excuse about mind-reading. If you were an employee with that attitude, you'd get fired so fast your head would spin. If you were a roommate, you'd be out the door. If you aren't willing to give your wife the same consideration you would give a roommate or a co-worker - or the same consideration you expect her to give you - maybe marriage isn't really for you.

So true. I wouldn't say it's the secret, but I'd say it's definitely an important one.

Btw, my two cents on mind-reading expectations: If you want your husband or wife to stop off at the store on his or her way home because you're running low on rice, call and ask them to do that. Yes, they know as well as you do that you're low on rice. But maybe they were planning on picking it up tomorrow. So if you want it today, call and ask. If the shoe is on the other foot and you're on your way home from work and remember that you're running low on rice, call and ask H or W if they'd like you to pick it up. Or just do it. Don't hate, communicate! That's my PSA for the day. My sounds so easy, why aren't more people blissfully, harmoniously married? PSA.

HOWEVER: If you're married, especially if it's been for a number of years, and you've been reasonably attentive and considerate, there is a certain amount of mind-reading you should be able to do, whether you are a husband or a wife. Except it's not actually called mind-reading, it's called keeping the household and marriage functioning by employing common courtesy and using prior knowledge. Macro example: We take a pretty utilitarian approach to kitchen chores. They're technically my job (one minor blowout maybe a year ago decided this) but if there are dishes in the sink and he knows I'm cooking dinner that night, he'll clear the dishes before I get home. Micro example: If he's working overtime the morning after a training run, I volunteer to take the dog out that night. Mini-example: When I ask for a Pepsi, he does not bring me a Coke. Some people call it mind-reading. I call it Knowing Thy Partner*.

*None of this is to suggest we're proficient at this. We still have our sighing moments of passive-aggressive I'll just do it myself, then and boneheaded moments like the other day when I blithely checked the mail as he struggled to open the dumpster with 50 pounds of chopped-up wood in his arms. But you know, most of the time we do our best.

---

I also watched "Marley and Me" while finishing my classroom today. Of course I cried when Marley crossed the Rainbow Bridge, but the parts that really resonated with me were the rough patches in the Grogans' marriage. I may not have Marley, the worst dog in the world, but there have been moments where I've near-hysterically yelled at my husband to "get the stupid dog out of my sight before I kill him," and we've definitely been overwhelmed and disappointed by events similar to theirs (dog-related and non-dog-related.)

I wonder what the next four years will bring us, and what we will bring to each other. Hopefully no more dogs, but maybe a baby. Hopefully some significant financial savings, and maybe a house. Hopefully a lot of creative projects, and maybe some travels. We'll see.

♥

like a horse and carriage

I've been absolutely horrible at keeping up this blog, but wanted to post something to mark our one-year anniversary - although I am well over a month late in doing so. Life has been sweet, and we are so lucky. Some say the first year is hardest; I say if that was the hardest year, we got off scot-free. I mean, it wasn't the teddy bear's picnic or anything, but neither was it full of constant fighting or jarring revelations. Cub had more or less moved in within four months of our meeting each other, so we got the jarring revelations out of the way much sooner than the first year of our marriage. I think something that has played a hugely positive role in our fledgling marriage is our involvement with Engaged Encounter, a Catholic organization that helps engaged couples discover aspects of each other and their relationship over a weekend of discussion, prayer, and talks by senior and junior teams of married couples. Basically, if you want to be married in the Catholic Church, in Honolulu (and in many other dioceses across the U.S.) you are required to attend EE.

Although it's a required weekend retreat, it's not preachy, holier-than-thou, or even really very "Catholic" in nature. Very spiritual, but it doesn't turn off non-Catholic participants. The greatest thing was and continues to be the volunteers, because being graced with friends who are married - who believe in marriage, who love being married, and who work at their relationship with passion - is a great fortune. Couples who have been married 40+ years, couples who have been married less than a year and all couples in between form a community of volunteers and friends who, at the end of some long days, are a major source of inspiration for this couple to sit down and talk things out productively, acknowledging the grace of God and our being chosen for and by each other, no matter how vividly we may be imagining a big red boxing glove on a direct, slow-mo path to the other's face.

Despite my being slightly overextended in other projects and work-related things, we decided to increase our volunteer involvement with EE 1) to support the organization (and the people behind the organization) that contributed greatly to our strong start and 2) to strengthen our friendships with the other people, whose own examples remind us to turn to each other when our relationship is stressed and not away from each other.

Re-reading this all and realizing I made EE sound like a cult and us like religious fanatics. Totally inaccurate on both counts, but I'm tired.

Updates: We still haven't honeymooned, we now have three kids (moved my old kitty cat in with us so now we are a family of 5 with 16 total legs. If I count the turtle we're a family of 6 with 20 total legs. If I count the worm bin we're a family of several hundred, but still with 20 total legs. I'm ... tired.) Our apartment's a mess - but less of a mess than before, and the mess causes fewer problems than before. We're moving as soon as we clear a couple of consecutive weekends to finish our new-old place. I now cook most of the meals we eat at home (as opposed to before, when occasions on which I cooked were declared state holidays.) We're training for a marathon. I do believe we might be quietly out of our minds. But we're having fun!

One particularly rough patch we rode out together in '09 - not in our relationship, but in my family - was my Mom's diagnosis of esophogeal cancer. She was diagnosed in September with the very early stages and was hospitalized right away. She underwent major surgery, endured a lengthy hospital stay, and is now finishing her monthly in-patient chemotherapy treatments. My mom's pretty tough (as anyone who watched her raise us knows), but this was a trying time for all of us. Cub took all of the adjustments in stride, taking care of the animals and household without complaint when I was busy helping, visiting or sleeping over with my mom in the hospital. My mom is a very private person and insisted she have no visitors until she was out the hospital, which upset Cub because he felt very much like part of the family and didn't understand why he was being kept away, especially because he wasn't able to be with me during those tough visits. This is so different from me - I am not comfortable in hospitals with people who are not directly related to me (even then, my loquacious nature mysteriously flees me and I am a big awkward mumbling mess.) I would have gladly - nay, thankfully - obeyed anyone's wishes to stay away. But not Cub. Little by little, he chipped away at the ice, and let her, and all of us know (if we weren't already totally convinced) that he was here, and could be counted on to remain my rock. Five months later my mom is completely cancer-free (but will always be closely monitored by her doctors) ... and I'll always remember these months and the way Cub took on everything I had to drop, made sure I stayed healthy, and so fiercely just wanted to be there.

More recently: For the past couple of weeks we've been a one-car couple - not by choice, but it's challenged us to problem-solve in a tough situation without going at each other's throats. Ride sharing with friends, waking up absurdly early for one to drop off the other at work and still get to their own job on time, and sometimes just being life-giving and accepting the inconvenience so the other person can have a better day are all ways we're dealing with the infirmity of his truck.

Things we learned during our first year: 1) Sometimes things are yucky; fix them together. Or sit on a bench and mock things together. Or eat a pint of ice cream together. However you solve the problem, solve it together. (<--- Seriously difficult for me; my natural inclination is to take my problems to the corner and brood for a good long time.) 2) During a knock-down fight in the middle of a mini family staycation, do not get your car and leave, even for a few hours. Mostly because it makes your in-laws talk about you for months. 3) Sometimes it's okay to let him order a bacon cheeseburger, and sometimes it's okay to let her buy something you know she isn't going to wear. 4) Going to bed at the same time is important. It can't always be done, but it's best to try. 5) Some things may not seem important but are worth a heroic effort: listening to him talk about taking apart an engine, wording things in a way that appeases her mother, taking at least one picture of a happy moment, clarifying what was said before flying into an almighty rage. After this year of training, moving, and hopefully a mini honeymoon, we'll begin seriously planning to start a family. And on that overwhelming note, I need to go pack a lunch for my awesome husband, who is working OT this weekend for us.