Category Archives: Love & Marriage

October Poetry, Day 5

I have the love of ten hearts beating inside my chest- they thrum
in one accord
for you, love of my youth,
man with the strong jaw and silent lips.

(You are also beautiful, but that is beside the point.)

You don’t say much of your own inner expanse,
but I can see it when you brush the hair off my forehead, or catch my
gaze across a room, or when I find you looking at me when you should
be looking at a movie screen.

You are not a words man, preferring to use your hands and mind in silence.
But every night your arms surround
me as sleep overtakes us, and I can feel under
your ribs the thrum of ten hearts beating
in one accord for
me.

(Man of my youth and my heart and all my ten loves,
you are beautiful in your silences, and nothing of you has
ever been beside the point.)

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Filed under Love & Marriage, Poetry

Book Review: The Secret Lives of Wives, and, also, I Have a Dilemma

Marriage is always unexpected. It does not take you by surprise the same way a huge zit that inexplicably pops up on your nose halfway through prom might, but it does take you by surprise the way a movie or book might: you knew the basic plot line from the book cover or the online review, but the dips and turns in the story were not what you expected. You may know you’re getting married, and you may know that life is not always cupcakes and sunshine, but the reality of living day-in and day-out with one person? Well, no one can really prepare you for that until you get there. Sometimes being a newlywed is a little like floating in space, in zero gravity: it’s pretty cool, but a little freaky too.

I’ve been married for several-ish years now. I was a baby when I got married at twenty, and as a baby in an adult world, well, let’s just say we had an interesting first few years. But we’ve grown and learned, and I think we have a pretty solid marriage. But I am still always on the lookout for advice from older wives. They say it takes a village to raise a baby, and while I would prefer for the village to stay out of my marriage, I definitely say it certainly does take a close community, one with good, honest friends willing to share from their hearts, to help a wife grow and figure out what on earth she is doing. With that in mind, when I saw this book, The Secret Lives of Wives by Iris Krasnow, I was fascinated, and knew I had to read it.

Krasnow interviews numerous women who have all been married 15 years or longer with the hopes of finding out their answer to the question, how do you make a marriage last? How do you make it work? What are your secrets to longevity? A fairly easy read, I really enjoyed the way Krasnow infused long portions of interview into the flow of the text. I also appreciated the way the author stuck to her journalistic guns- she would offer opinion and insight where necessary, but she reported what she found without bias. She interviewed women of all different ages and stages of life, and with every back ground you can imagine: stay at home moms, career women, empty nesters, moms who didn’t start their families until later in life, moms with one kid, and moms with seven, widows, the happily marrieds, and the very much struggling. They discussed a range of topics, from being drawn together by illness to being torn apart by a child’s death, those who discovered that a new career invigorated their marriage, and those who just wish they could settle down for a dinner alone with their spouse sometimes. The main topic was how women hold their marriages together, and there were some answers that made me feel uncomfortable at best, such as one woman who credits her decade plus long affair with keeping her marriage from crumbling, and many that were inspiring, such as the woman who has become her own version of Grandma Moses, renewing her love of art and founding a successful business as a pottery teacher in her seventies.

In fact, there were three main things that I, as a young wife, really pulled from this book:

  1. It’s okay not to feel lovey-dovey all the time. It’s more than okay, it’s normal. When you lived with your parents and sibling you weren’t thrilled with them all the time, but that didn’t mean you loved them any less when it came down to it. The same is true in marriage. When you feel that anger bubble, take a moment to feel what you feel, acknowledge it, and then move on. Find a way to solve it or get over it, but don’t let it fester. As one smart wife stated, it silly to go through your marriage being mad or frustrated and expecting him to fix it.
  2. Which brings us to the point that probably hit the hardest for me: you are responsible for your own happiness. No other one person can fulfill all your needs. You’re husband can never make you 100% happy all the time, and he shouldn’t have to. Can you imagine being solely responsible for his happiness? How exhausting! For me, as a Christian, I find myself whole and fulfilled in Christ, but Tyler and I have both also come to understand the importance of having our separate things. He works in a world I can hardly begin to understand, and he has his hobbies: cigars with the boys, computer games, he loves to follow the markets, and he’s an excellent pianist and guitar player. I’m a homemaker at the moment, but I read everyday, and I write, both this blog and other things. I’d love to be published someday. I’m also an artist, and I thrill in making something come to life under my hands. We have our friends together, and our friends apart. I love spending time with my man, but we’re a healthier couple when we each have some space to breath as well.
  3. Be grateful for what you have. So you don’t have a storybook romance. Maybe you fight more than you’d like or you don’t spend enough time together or don’t have much money. But what do you have? I was really touched by one woman’s story who said that she often got angry because her husband isn’t very hands one. But then, when she really thinks about, a hands-on husband is the only thing she wants that she doesn’t have, and four out of five isn’t bad, so she’s content. Another woman echos my own dear friend Rosemary, 72 and widowed for almost a decade. She always tells me to be thankful for the husband you do have, quirks, foibles, and all, because someday he will be gone, and you’ll wish more than anything in the world you could have that crazy man back. Women have a longer life expectancy, so a lot of us will know the bitter taste of widowhood someday. If that day ever comes to my doorstep, I don’t want to have the regret of knowing that I didn’t value my man. He’s not perfect, but he’s all mine. And today, in the midst of all the stresses of a move sprinkled in among the stresses of everyday life, I am thankful. I’m grateful that he’s a man of integrity that follows through, that he’s committed to being a good provider, and he always does little things, like get my jacket for me when I’m cold, or get things off shelves that I’m too short to reach. He could never be accused of being hands-off, and we share the details of everything from what color I’m painting the bathroom to our family budget. He makes me laugh, and he makes me think, and, even though it annoys me, he’s committed to not letting me be a snotty little girl who always fusses until she gets her way, which is to say that he’s committed to help me grow up (remember: married at 20, which is practically infancy in the grand scope of things).

Overall I’d say this is a worthwhile read, if for nothing else but the camaraderie. You will probably read viewpoints you don’t agree with, but take it with a grain of salt as you would any other book, and it will definitely make you think. (I always remind myself that Hemingway and Fitzgerald thought life was meaningless, Shakespeare was one dirty man, and Sylvia Plath was crazy, but I still read them gladly, and even learn a thing or two along the way.)

Now here’s the real question: what shall I read next? These are my choices:

In the world of fiction, I have The Distant Hours by Kate Morton, The Book of Lost Things by John Connolly, Sarah

As for non-fiction, the contestants are: Half Broke Horses by Jeanette Walls, The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin, A Room of One

I have a lot of good choices, and no inkling of which one I want to crack open next, that’s my dilemma. So, it’s up to you, friends. Which ones should I read? I’d like to start one from the fiction pile and one from the non-fiction pile ASAP. Maybe it’s because I slept twelve hours last night, or maybe I’ve just hit a wall, but I am hopelessly discombobulated on the book-picking front tonight. So help a sister out, mmkay? What would be your choice? Have you read any of these? Opinions? Let me know, and I’ll read and review them for next week.

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Filed under Book Reviews, Books, Love & Marriage

Return of the Blogger

Aaaaaaaaaand, I’m back! Good grief, has it really been a week? Please accept my sincerest apologies for my long absence; it won’t happen again. Or at least it won’t happen again until someday when Tyler takes me on a Caribbean cruise or some other such wonderfulness. The Week of Moving Madness was just that: a week of madness. This is the list of what I did over the last week:

  1. Pack up a flobbity-jillion boxes.

    The moving truck, before and after.

  2. Put said boxes into a moving truck.
  3. Follow behind my husband driving said truck in our car.
  4. Wait on the side of the road for the mechanic to come and look at the moving truck to determine why it wouldn’t move.
  5. Ask the mechanic if he could jump off my car while he was at it, since the battery was dead.
  6. Spend the night in a hotel after driving for eight hours to get to a place we should have gotten to in three and a half.
  7. Finally get to  the new apartment a mere 24 hours after we left Bakersfield.
  8. Unpack the moving truck and drag all out stuff up to the seventh floor. For five hours. Yipee!
  9. Discover that our car is dead…again. Wait for AAA to come and replace our battery.
  10. Unpack all those boxes that are now in our new, shiny home.
  11. Try to remember to eat at least twice a day.
  12. Try to remember to sleep a little bit.
  13. Steal moments to read when I’m “going to the bathroom.” *wink*

What did you do this week? Whatever it was, it was probably 29 times more exciting than what I did, but it was all worth it in the end. Hencefourth, I get to wake up to this every morning:

Now that we are here, I’ve been very busy. I have been…

  1. Not getting up before 8:30 am. Rough.
  2. Setting up house. My first order of business was setting up a reading corner, though the kitchen and bathroom are pretty much squared away, and the closet shall join them shortly.
  3. Looking out the window a lot. I’m still in awe of our cityscape.
  4. Reading. I started this lovely little book today:

    The Secret Lives of Wives by Iris Krasnow

    It is really interesting so far. Some of these women say having a man on the side has helped the, some say illness is what made them strong, and some say their arranged marriage is the best thing that ever happened to them. I’m not necessarily advocating for any of that, but I am fascinated.  Being married long enough to be passed the newlywed stage but not long enough to be considered a pro by any means, I’m really interested to delve into this topic. So far, if someone asked me the secret to our happiness these past four years, I’d say a strong underlying friendship, our shared commitment to our faith and core values, and honest communication. At the end of the day, no matter what has happened, that man is still the best friend I have in the world, which gives me something to fight for, no matter what. But in another four years, or eight, or twelve, who knows what I’ll say?  What about you? Man or woman, what would you say the key to longevity is? How do you keep a happy marriage? For that matter,  how do you keep any long-term relationship going?

  5. Taking an obscene amount of Cambria pictures:

    Sorry about missing Caturday! This little quartet pretty much sums up what she's been up to, though- sleeping and chilling out in odd places.

  6. Cooking dinner and other domestic type things.
  7. And tomorrow I will begin hunting for the perfect wall color. I’m thinking a nice, bright yellow.

Like I said, life is really tough right now. Another endeavor I plan to undertake soon: find every bookstore I can reasonably walk to/take the trolley to in San Diego. There are two just on the street I live on alone! But right now I’m going to sleep for the next ten hours. But I promise not to abandon you! I will surely be back tomorrow, my friends, granted I can pencil you into my demanding schedule.

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Filed under Book Reviews, Books, California Dreamin', Cambria, Cats, Caturday, Love & Marriage, Odds and Ends, San Diego, Tyler

27 Years

Once upon a time, my parents were not my parents. Once, twenty-seven years ago, they were just a man and a woman in love who decided to get married.

For twenty-seven years they have loved and laughed, raised their brood, weathered the storms, and through it all, they have always pointed to Christ.

Thanks for being such wonderful parents. But most importantly, thanks for modeling a godly marriage. Thanks for loving each other, for staying together even through the darkest days. Thank you for being honest about your struggles, but thank you also for kissing in front of me and Andrew, even though we thought it was gross.  When we are dancing at our daughter’s wedding, I hope Tyler and I look this happy and in love.

Happy Anniversary, Mom and Dad! You are deeply appreciated.

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Filed under Faith, Love & Marriage, Things I'm Thankful For

Six Years Ago Today…

…this boy

met this girl.

And a few months later, they became this couple.

And now, they are us.

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Filed under Love & Marriage, Tyler

An Ode to Sleeping Alone

When we lived in South Carolina, Tyler’s job frequently took him away from home overnight, often for the whole week or weeks in a row broken by short weekend visits home. When this husband-stealing shenanigan disguised as a job first started, I couldn’t sleep when he was gone. I’d lie awake in bed for hours, exhausted. It wasn’t because I was frightened of anything, it’s just hard to sleep in an empty bed now days.

This is what I do on nights home alone: read, write, yawn, repeat.

See, we have a full size bed, and have for the entire four-year duration of our marriage, simply because that’s what was given to us, and we were too strapped for cash to buy a new one. So we’re not only used to sleeping in the same bed, but practically on top of one another. Seriously. There is no position in the bed where we are not somehow touching unless we both roll to the farthest edge with our hips hanging off and our arms stretched out in front of us. But who could possibly sleep that way? Also, I tend to roll off the bed when I’m in it alone. I never realized that Tyler acts as my human guard rail until he was gone, which was a painful, bruising way to discover that I’m a roller.

I had not had to face any of these horrors for a very long time. Until last week when Tyler stayed out until 6:30 am recording drum tracks for the Hingepoint worship team’s new album. He’s out again tonight, recording bass tracks. (Hopefully he won’t be out quite as late/early this week.) I don’t mind at all, really, I just can’t sleep. So I pray and read and journal and read some more and stalk friends who are probably asleep on Facebook. (And tonight I also visited a certain little man with whom I am currently infatuated. He has, by the way, added a new ridiculously cute habit to his repertoire: he squeaks while he drinks his bottle. I am dying over here, folks. Death by baby.) This little poem is what came out of all that restless reading and writing and stalking last week. I thought I’d share it with you tonight, as it is now 10:52pm, and I am on the cusp of my sleeplessness. I call it An Ode to Sleeping Alone...

Now that I have been married long
enough to be used to
it, I cannot sleep
alone
anymore. There is still the
ghost of you upon
the sheets, the wraith of your arm curved around
my hips, drawing me into
your warmth, until I awaken, startled,
alone,
and cold, on the strange side
of the bed, on your odd,
lumpy pillow. Please come home
quickly. I am in want of
your real arm.

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Filed under Love & Marriage, Poetry, Tyler

Colorful Fork Clocks

Tyler and I are now the proud owners of a strange clock made of brightly colored forks and spoons.

Obnoxious, isn't it?!

It’s bizarre. Our kids with think it’s hideous.

We love it.

Tyler found a kitschy clock in Toronto while we were on our Honeymoon four years ago, and it’s all been downhill from there. It seems like he’s always finding an odd new clock or a funky lamp, but we never buy them. Until now.

I made the wallpaper on our shared computer the portrait of a baby elephant. Because it’s ridiculously cute. She’s wrinkled and has red hair, and I’ve nicknamed her Rosie for reasons unknown even to me.

Tyler leaves it, because baby animals are his weakness. (His other weaknesses include fixing things and protecting me with his big muscles. Because he is far more masculine than baby animals might suggest.)

We both love listening to classical music at loud volumes. We could both watch Star Trek for 19 flobbity-jillion hours (and sometime we do). Our outfits match on accident at least three days a week because we favor the same colors. We keep a  stuffed alligator on our bed who we talk about like he’s a real animal, and we talk about our real animal like she’s human.We’ve picked out future-baby names, and they’re old and weird, and we adore them. We could live on sushi and we don’t like candle scents that make us hungry. We drink a lot of black tea, and if there are actual sugar cubes, it’s even better.

To be sure, we have our frustrations. In some ways, I just don’t get that man, and I’m certain (because he’s told me so) that there are things about me that baffle him as well.

But there are 1,000 ways that we’ve melded into our own strange little Stroud family. Our quirks align in a startling, wonderful way, and today I celebrate that.

Amanda

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