Love is clumsy

I suffer from an overactive imagination.  I use the word "suffer" because while I love that about me, it can also be a curse.  I love how with little effort I can picture beautiful places in detail, entertain myself throughout the day with my own little stories I make up, and can get completely lost in a book or movie.  It's fun, I love that.  But it's a curse, because the world we live in now, is nothing like my imagination.

I know I'm not alone.  We all picture things a certain way, and then are so surprised when that picture wasn't even close to reality.  Will Smith sums it up perfectly in one line, in this scene from the movie Hitch.


Sometimes we imagine too much, don't we?  I do it almost everyday!!  Here's a common example maybe some of you know.  I prepare a picnic for the kids and I to eat at the park, and as I load up the stroller, imagine butterflies, happy giggles, and rainbows.  I can see it all!  My sweet children are so happy to be there, love me for taking them, are refreshed by the outdoors and healthy playtime, and I get to lay back on the picnic blanket, basking in the "motherhood is wonderful" sunshine.  Of course, as you can guess, I'm shocked when in real life, the kids don't want any of the food I prepared, get cranky and argue with each other, sunburn despite my careful, tedious sunscreen efforts before we left, find more ways to get dirty than I thought possible, each take turns crying on the way home, and when we still have a mile left to walk, are stuck in an unexpected downpour of rain.  Like Will Smith said, "I imagined that going differently in my mind."

Maybe it's because I not only have a vast imagination (I get that from my Dad) but I'm also easy to feel and express emotion (I get that from my mom).  So a beautiful scene from a book or movie, or even something I think or dream about, not only is wonderful, but tends to have an emotional effect on me too.  I love what I hear/see/feel, and I want it to be real!  I know you're probably thinking you're much too mature to get lost in such silliness- but think for a moment, my friends.  Remember that one movie, where you were grateful for the dark theater so no one could see you quickly swipe away a tear?  I realize I suffer from a worse case than most of the imagination-turned-emotional disorder, but don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about.  I know you do.

My most recent guilty moment of getting too caught up in the world of daydreams, was when I heard Blake Shelton's song, Home, play on the radio.  Go on, listen to it.  Let yourself feel the love!



I felt the love a little too much when I heard this song.  Big crocodile tears rolled down my cheeks, I thought of deployments and sometimes how lonely I can feel, and pathetically said to myself, "I so badly want my husband to say those words to me!"

Then I took it a step further, and pictured what it'd be like if he did say those things to me. I even went so far as to imagine him secretly taking guitar lessons, learning the words to the song, and then serenading me after a quiet romantic dinner at home.  It was beautiful!

It was also ridiculous.  Life is not a music video.  How we feel about the people we love is so difficult to put into words, not to mention having them on hand at the exact moment when they need to be heard.  Some people spend their whole lives working on turning that very problem into an art.  Poets, authors, musicians, and artists of all kinds find ways to put emotion onto the page.  But it takes tedious hours, rewrites, drafts, patience, and practice.  Behind those dream worthy moments are mistakes, clumsiness, and great effort.

The more I thought about my silly daydream of my husband singing to me, the more I realized it wasn't really what I want.  I have what I want.  I have someone who does work tedious long hours for me.  He's patient with me, and we both patiently wait for those days when we can be together.  We forgive mistakes, we practice being thoughtful, considerate, and sympathetic to each other.  Those long days of effort and work are what make something beautiful, something sweet, even something dream worthy.

Will Smith also suavely says in Hitch that "Life is about the moments, that take your breath away".

It's a romantic thought, but I don't agree.  Life isn't about those short lived moments.  It's about the clumsy ones that got you there.  It's about saying the wrong thing at the wrong time.  It's about feeling bad because you forgot something important, or feeling embarrassed because you didn't handle a situation right.  Life is waiting when you don't want to, enduring when you're tired, listening even when you're feeling distracted.  It's about patience with misscommunication, and forgiveness of imperfection.  It's about sleepy, late nights, small acts of kindness that sometimes inevitably go unappreciated, and showing devotion even when you're feeling lonely.  It's about experiencing all those things, and loving anyway.  Perhaps those short moments of breathless excitement are fun, and memorable.  But they are empty without the clumsy ones that come before and afterwords.

If you added up all the thousands of tiny sighs where I felt special because of the things my husband has done for me, (and that's not even counting the little things I forgot to notice!) I'd be more than out of breath.  I'd probably even romantically swoon from all that sweet, wonderful, clumsy love.  But because this is real life, he'd probably be too surprised to catch me, and we'd smile and comment about how we'd laugh about it someday.  We'd say that confidently, knowing for sure, despite all those imperfect, awkward moments, that the someday will be there, and in that someday we'll still be together, still making dreams.    
  

but I know, one thing, that I love you.

During this last deployment, we spent a lot of time planning the perfect trip.  It turns out the perfect trip, is a 7 day cruise on the Royal Caribbean ship Freedom of the Seas, visiting select beautiful Caribbean Islands.  We swam with tropical fish (and a shark!), we jet skied in turquoise water, we laid on the beach and watched airplanes fly so close we could almost touch them, we danced to 80's ballads played by an incredible Filipino cover band, and fell asleep to the music of the waves coming from our private balcony.  It came and went like a dream.  I need to look at the pictures to believe it really happened.  I missed my babies like crazy, and am happy to be home and snuggle them, but we had an amazing time.  Maybe some day we'll take the kids with us on a similar trip.  When they're much older, perhaps in 12 years or so.  Maybe.

Nobody Gets Me Like You . . .

I have a pet-peeve.  Well, actually, I have many (don't we all) but one of them, is this phrase.  In case you haven't read my title, I'm referring to the uneducated, stupid, empty yet well embraced phrase in modern culture, "Nobody gets me like you."

Can we possibly find a more vague, adolescent description of romantic feelings towards one another?  I expect if one responded to this lovely term of endearment with, "well, what do you get about me?" one would find his or her date stuttering and lost with no idea what to say next, because that all-encompassing nothingness of a phrase was the best he or she had.  He/she doesn't really know anything about you except that he/she finds you attractive, and possibly feels comfortable around you.  Hence the "get me" part.  I assume that's what they mean, that they feel comfortable in the presence of said lover, therefore, he/she "gets me".  Gag me now.

While folding laundry I watched the last three episodes of the most recent season of The Bachelorette, where this lovely phrase was uttered between lovers, no exaggeration, over 60 times.

"He just gets me!"
"I love you, because you just really get me"
"No one has ever got me quite like you"
The variations continue in their pathetic monotony.

Don't get me started about that mockery of love tv show.  It feels like one long, awkward first date, except with many men, and in exotic places.  Oh, and of course, it ends with a proposal.  I don't think anyone honestly, truly, really believes that's how love works, or even resembles it.  Yet, so many women get sucked into that nonsense!!!  See, you got me started.  Well, while I'm at it . . . I have a few theories.  I will shamefully admit I am guilty of shedding a tear or two when I saw the proposal, or witnessed earlier poor Sean (2nd to last guy eliminated from Emily's love list) drive home with a devastated, deer in the headlights look of a truly heartbroken man.  I think women are drawn to this show not because they think it has any bearing on true love, but because it's entertaining in a way they can't explain.  I think I can though.  First of all, women need to feel wanted, and here's a show with one woman being desired by 25 men.  25 good looking, succesful, congenial men, who hope to marry her!  Add to that romantic locations, a little drama (admit it women, we all secretly love a little drama, anyone who denies that, is well, in denial!!!) and kisses and embraces from these beautiful men all fighting for her affection, and you have catnip for women.  This human catnip is neither real nor healthy though, my ladies.  I suggest you find something else to fill your time, although, yes, as I said, I too am guilty of losing three hours of my life to that last season.  "Lord, what fools these mortals be!" Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night's Dream.  Now if you really want to watch a true parody of love, that's the comedy for you.  I never get tired of that play!!! 

So- where was I?  Oh yes, trashing on the "Nobody gets me like you" phrase.  If you are a user, rest easy, there is still hope.  Buy a thesaurus, or better yet, book of Shakespearean sonnets!  There are numerous ways to describe true love and devotion in the English language!  You can learn to express yourself.  I believe in you!

Now that I've completely exhausted that tangent, to the point of this post.  I heard a song on the radio, and it totally "got me".  By that, of course I mean I instantly felt drawn to the lyrics and the sweet, touching description of the benefits of marriage over being single.  The song is called Woman Like You by Lee Brice.  It's of course, a country song.  No other genre seems to have mastered the art of beautifying the simple, sweet parts of life, with a mixture of acoustic guitars and a little southern twang.  As Trace Adkins put it so well, country songs are songs about me! 

"...it's songs about me,

and who I am.  

Songs about loving and living

and good hearted women

and family and God.

Yeah, they're all just 

songs about me"

You can see the video and hear that whole song here.  (The Trace Adkins song)  It's a great song, I love it.  


That's of course, why I fell in love with Lee Brice's song, Woman Like You.  It's about me!  It's about a wife who asked her husband that hypothetical question I think most women ask or at least wonder at some point.  

Where would you be today if you weren't married to me?  

Of course what she really means is, 

Are you happy with me, and do you regret getting married or miss being single?    

He answered her in sweetly rhyming verses all the great things he'd be doing, and how they still don't top what he now has with her.  This touches a particularly sensitive note with me, because my husband happens to have a very cool profession, and to the outside world it probably doesn't quite match up to being a family man.  Really, does it get much cooler than being a Special Ops Air Force pilot?  No, no it doesn't.  

He looks pretty darn suave in his green flight suit, combat boots, and Oakley sunglasses.  And yet this extraordinary man I married is happiest in a worn out t-shirt, pair of cargo shorts, flip flops, and rolling around on the floor with his kids.  If he were single he'd probably own a plane of his own, drive a cool new motorcycle, and have time to both ride it, and keep it maintained!  Right now his bike lays hopelessly unrepairable in our garage, with no time in the foreseeable future to fix it.  If he didn't have a family, he wouldn't feel so torn when he has to deploy so often,  he could watch as much college football as he wants, and probably join an adult amateur league of flag football or soccer, instead of coaching a team of five-year-old girls.  (No offense to Anny and the other Green Butterflies!)  

His life could be in the worldly sense, much, much cooler, and we both know it.  I probably know it a little too much, and like the pretty girl in the music video, I fish a little to get him to remind me he's happier now than he would be without poopy diapers, messy kitchens, toys to trip on, babies crying at night, putting up with a hormonal pregnant wife 3 times . . . oh and how the list goes on!  Yet family craziness aside, he's happy.  He wants exactly what he has!  He may not be able to compose a country song about it, but I'm not too bad at ryhming, so I made an attempt to write my own verses to that song, dedicated to the number one man in my life.  I'm crazy about you, and can't tell you what it means to me that you prefer us over what would be a very exciting life for a single man.  If you ever want to whisper in my ear your own reasons for those decisions, even if I think I already know them, well, let's just say I'd be ok with that.     

Here are my knock-off verses.  Not quite as smooth as Mr. Lee Brice, but I think they have their own personal charm.  

If he was still a single man he’d,

never have to drive a mini van,

He’d have more time for football games,

Eat more Rice-a-Roni and chicken wings.

He’d live somewhere with a water view,

time to fix a motorcycle or two. 

I know he’d own that dream airplane,

If I’d never known his name.

Going overseas wouldn’t be so tough,

No goodbyes makes it not so rough.

There’d be time to study for a masters degree,

Time for the gym, even time for sleep. 

Life would be simple and carefree,

Without a family, without me. 

Now that I’ve got your attention,

I suppose I forgot to mention,

I’m so happy he came my way,

I can never have too many days,

Watching him coach our daughter’s soccer team,

Pushing our kids on the back yard swings.

Though he does love Rice-a-Roni,

I know it’s no trade for being lonely.

Football games are way more fun,

While holding his sleeping newborn son.

Flying overseas is hard to do,

But it’s nice having someone to come home to.

There are things he gave up to be a husband and father,

We’ll probably never have that house on the water.

Time for motorcycles has come and gone,

When you spend all your Saturdays mowing the lawn.

Yet as soon as you’re home, your kids come running to see you,

We all just want to be near you. 

We’ll follow you to the middle of no-where,

It will be happy to us, as long you’ll be there.

This all, I’m sure, is nothing new,

We’re grateful, Daddy, we love you.    

The Marrying Kind

While looking for some new tunes to add to my "happy music" playlist, (aka tunes that make me smile no matter my mood) I came across this country song by Kip Moore, Mary Was the Marrying Kind.  It's a sweet song, about how looking back, he's dated lots of girls, but the sweet girl next door, "the marrying kind" was what he really wanted all along.  His best friend beat him to the punch though.

It's supposed to be a sad song, about nostalgia and lost chances.  However I find this song sad for a different reason.  I cry not for the boy who realized a little too late what he was missing.  He had his chance, I don't mourn for him.  I think of Mary.  I know her well.  I too saw the Jennies, Beckies, and Tammies get lots of dates and attention, while I played the part of an unnoticed wallflower.  The boys didn't seem to appreciate that I was kind, thoughtful, and true to my church standards.  I did my best to doll up, buy pretty clothes, wear makeup, and be outgoing and friendly.  Still more often than not I found myself lonely on the weekends.  I remember once in a youth interview with my Bishop at church, crying about my dating woes.  He sweetly said I probably wasn't being asked out because I was "too perfect" and the boys were too intimidated to ask.  I smiled at his flattering response, but inwardly I laughed.  I knew better.  I wasn't being asked, because I was the kind of girl you marry, not the kind you date.  Boys just aren't interested in that at 16.  

Thankfully I was blessed with strict parents, who did not allow me to lower my standards a little, in order to make myself more appealing to the opposite sex.  I'll admit I was tempted.  Loneliness to a teenage girl is a curse worse than slow torture.  Questions like "what's wrong with me?" are not good on a delicate young heart.  Why is it the fate of the good girls to be lonely until they're of marrying age?

Thankfully that story ended well.  When I got to college (note that I went to a church school where there isn't the usual raucous binge drinking and partying) and dating was taken a little more seriously, I suddenly had plenty of attention.  Even the boys who shunned me in highschool, found I had something that interested them.  Let me tell you though, I had no interest in them!    

What continues to puzzle me is the "surprise" all boys becoming men have, when they discover those good girls all grown up, are suddenly very attractive.  I've heard it over and over from male family and friends, telling the story of the good little girl at home who went unnoticed in highschool, and to their great astonishment is amazing and desirable now!  Has it not occurred to them that it's not the girls who went through some over-night transformation, it's them?  These girls were always pretty, always sweet, always wonderful.  It's the boys who only recently realized they care about things like that.    

I blame both the boys, and their parents.  For some reason our boys are brought up to think their youth is for guilt free playing.  From the teenage years and up parents don't seem to care who their sons date, because they're too young to marry, so what does it matter?  Let them have their fun.  Even among the church boys, I saw a lesser but similar truth.  Do I even need to go on about how this is a stupid philosophy with damaging effects on both the boys and girls?  It's the reason good boys get into trouble, why girls are tempted to dress and act trashy in the first place, and why good girls who don't, cry dateless by the phone every weekend, thinking there's something wrong with them.  

Perhaps boys are just too dumb to recognize a good thing when they see it.  Or maybe they're that way because we expect so little from them.  With an iron fist parents tell their daughters who is safe to date, and who to stay away from.  Yet when a son shows up with a bleached blonde in a mini skirt and tight strapless top, do they sit him down and have a heart to heart about how she may not be the best choice?  More often than not parents, especially fathers, cheer!  They give him a manly pound on the back, a wink, and make some "good catch" comment.  Or even more pathetic, they'll disapprove, but shrug their shoulders and say, "boys will be boys" or "what can I do, I can't choose who my son wants to date!"
Yes you can!  Get a backbone moms and dads, and straighten your sons out while you still can.  We tell our girls, "date the kind of person you want to marry," why not say the same to the boys?
Why the double standard, especially among good, church going families?  Well it's time for a change!  I believe you can influence your sons, and train them to understand what is truly attractive.  As much as they may act like it, they aren't mindless baboons who can't be controlled or educated!  Starting with my own sons, I plan to teach them to seek out the good girls, not just the good-looking girls.  I expect them to look past their hormones, and ask themselves before they pick up that phone, "She's pretty, but what else do I know about her? Does she dress how I want my daughters to dress?  Is she someone I'd hope to run into again when I'm in college?" (Or someone who will even get in to college???) 

I expect they'll probably whine a little about this.  But like all good parents, I have foresight.  While they may not appreciate it then, I'm doing my boys a huge favor.  It's more than the fact that the good girls deserve to be asked out.  One day my boys will thank me.  I'm saving them from the fate Kip Moore is singing about.  In a few years when they see the real purpose of dating, they wont be crying, "Oh Mary, Mary, why was I so blind?" 

They'll thank me that I encouraged them to take out those sweet, angel faced good girls.  Because to the strange surprise of all the boys, those girls grow up to be exactly what they didn't know they've always wanted.  And those stunningly perfect good girls, will remember who was nice to them in high school.

To those good young girls out there, continue being the marrying kind.  It pays off.  No cute blue-eyed football player is worth lowering your standards for.  Marriage is infinitely better than the prom.  It might be hard, but you can stand being lonely for a few years until the good boys to come to their senses.  They will, and you'll be grateful you waited.  There's nothing wrong with you.  You are perfect and beautiful.  Your mother isn't lying when she tells you someday the perfect guy will notice that.  She knows, because she's been in your shoes too, and that might just be exactly how it worked out for her.  

NOT a declaration post

So I have to confess, I tend to squirm at "public declarations of love" posts other people make on their blogs.  You know, those gushy entries about how their husbands, fiancees or sweethearts are amazingly amazing.  It's not necessarily because I find them cheesy, although sometimes they definitely are.  Reading them gives me the same awkward feeling I get when I see a couple kissing.  I feel a need to blush and glance away, like I'm intruding, even though there's no obvious concern for privacy.

Is that odd of me to feel that way?  I'm a romantic person.  Chick flick movies and books are some of my best friends!  Except for the occasional overly-graphic-for-a-PG13-movie bedroom scenes, I don't look away from the screen during moments of romance.   Inwardly I swoon at the kisses perfectly silhouetted by the morning sunrise.  That's different though.  I know the characters can't see me.  Staring isn't rude, because not only are they not aware of my presence, but they're not real in the first place!  It's just a story, and as fun as it is to imagine, no one can truly invade a story.

Witnessing a similar lovey-dovey scene in real life however, is not the same euphoric experience.  Maybe it should be!  Here, right in front of me, is not storybook love, but real, true, sweet and sincere shared affection.  So why can't I look???  I haven't been married so long that I've forgotten what it's like to shamelessly take part in a little PDA.  To be so lost in that pink fluffy cloud of elation that is new love, that you forget there are people around you.  I remember that, and I don't regret the moments where we probably made people around us squirm.  "Love sees with the heart, not with the mind", therefore the common sense to keep kisses and adoring stares behind doors, isn't so common.  I get that.  Still though, I turn my head, or pretend to be very occupied with whatever I'm holding.  I can't watch!

So rest assured, this is not a love post.  Even though I'm crazy about the man who married me, and get butterflies in my stomach just thinking about his gray-blue eyes and his heart melting smile, this isn't a public declaration.  Despite how distracted I've been of late, staring off into space, thinking about how much I miss his laugh, or how the cruel world melts away when he holds me at the end of a long day, despite all that, this is not one of "those" entries.  Just because I sometimes refuse to get dressed so I can spend the entire morning in PJ's and his robe, because it smells like him and I don't want to forget that smell, doesn't mean I'm going to write all about it.  And when I hear the perfect song on the radio that I'm pretty sure he paid two beautiful singers to write and sing just for me because it fits us so well, doesn't mean I'm going to put up a youtube link to the music video for the whole world to see.  I wouldn't do that.  Because who'd want to see that?  Just look away, friends, look away.

    

Do you hear me? I'm talking to you, across the water, 
across the deep blue ocean, under the open sky,
oh my, baby I'm tryin'.  


I feel you whisper, across the sea,
I keep you with me, in my heart
You make it easier 
when life gets hard.


They don't know how long it takes,
Waiting for a love like this.
Every time we say goodbye, 
I wish I had one more kiss.
I'll wait for you, 
I promise you, 
I will.  


Lucky we're in love in every way,
Lucky to be coming home someday . . . 

I love you.  I miss you.

Our Caribbean Cruise

Scott and I went on a fabulous 4 night Caribbean Cruise with Royal Caribbean cruiselines. Grandma Andrews and Aunt Olivia stayed with the girls at home so we could have an entire week to ourselves. Here's a slideshow of some of the prettier views from our ship and ashore. We left out of Ft. Lauderdale, FL, and made ports of call at the Florida Keys and Cozumel, Mexico. Everything was beautiful and perfect. We're happy to be back with our girls whom we missed very much, but are grateful to have such wonderful memories of just the two of us on this romantic vacation! (there's music with the slideshow, so turn off my music player if you want to hear it)

Make photo slide shows at www.OneTrueMedia.com

It's a Love Story

Our "Love Story" isn't unique, or heart wrenchingly dreamy. I suppose there is some romance to being married to an Air Force pilot, but no happy couple likes to be separated by hundreds of miles, no matter how patriotic the cause, and that's what pilots do. They fly away. However despite the heartache I know will come with my husband's first deployment, I can still say with all my heart it's worth it for the moments he's here. He really is my Romeo, knight in shining armor, and Prince Charming all in one. Not to mention he's very much a hero in our daughters' eyes. I love Taylor Swift's song Love Story, because despite its unrealistic lyrics of princes and princesses in love, it still reminds me of our own story. Probably because underneath all her pretty descriptions is a song about real, intoxicating, everlasting, butterflies-in-your-tummy love, and that's what we have.