Wife Reflections

Year 2, Week 11: The dreaded Second Year returns

It’s official: The second year of a relationship is always the hardest.

I remember watching my friends fall hard and fast for a guy, be on cloud nine for a year, and then call asking for advice when things all-of-a-sudden started getting rocky.

I told them that this is normal (they breathed a sigh of relief), but then share my theory that whether they can make it through the second year will determine whether they make it in the long run (even if it was only 3-5 years, that’s successful according to today’s standards).

The second year is when things start to get serious and questions are asked – the honeymoon period is ending and reality becomes a – well – reality.

You start wondering if this is the One. And when things start to become difficult (as they do, in “reality”), we automatically jump to our conclusion: “Well, if he/she was really meant for me, then I wouldn’t feel like this, would I?”

This is toxic thinking and it ends relationships, over and over again. Love is not a feeling; it is a choice. And sometimes the choice is sacrifice, and that’s why love hurts. But I’m getting off topic and that’s just my opinion.

So I guess it shouldn’t have come as that big of a surprise that, when I had the theme of this week’s reflection come to mind, it threw me for a loop.

Who knew we’d have to go through another “second year” in marriage?

The excitement of the engagement, the emotional and logistical preparations for our marriage, the gorgeous memories from our wedding day, the honeymoon, and the exciting transition into building a home and routine together have become cursive words in a diary and photos hanging in our home.

The second year has brought up all the stuff we thought we knew, but have kind of let sit beneath the surface all this time, which is a surprise because I thought we had gone through all that “stuff” before we got married. That was always the goal anyway. The second year has brought up all the little things that we have forgotten could be endearing (like Cody’s incessant snapping and clapping, which he swears is not an expression of anxiety and impatience) and difficult truths that run deeper than dust (like my tendency to, for whatever reason, assume the worst of intentions from the man I should trust the most).

The second year has brought up ideas of beginning a family, but not knowing “when” we’ll be ready (Ha! Is anyone ever really ready and prepared for parenthood?). It’s brought up core differences in our philosophies: he’s a planner and has no problem playing chess with circumstances and the wheel of fortune. I, on the other hand, have no problem giving Jesus the wheel and whispering in submission, “Thy Will Be Done”. You’d think these two seemingly opposing world views would doom the relationship – and maybe this really would be enough cause for a couple to sign divorce papers –

but we’re not those people.

Our long distance journey was the climbing of a mountain. It was long, arduous, seemingly never-ending, but there were those trips where we finally got to see each other that allowed us to breathe and admire the view of our efforts. When the road got hard again, we at least had the memories of the last rest-stop that kept one foot climbing in front of the other for the continuing journey, as painful as it would become.

I’d like to say that our long-distance love has prepared us for this very moment in our marriage (and yes, it really is only a moment in the scheme of time). I believe long distance living helped us develop a kind of grit that keeps us going.

Grit. According to Wikipedia, it is a positive, non-cognitive trait based on an individual’s passion for a particular long-term goal or end state, coupled with a powerful motivation to achieve their respective objective.

So here’s a status report: We’re still on this beautiful mountain of ours, and the last couple years were admittedly gorgeous sights admired from a plateau. We had found really huge boulders to climb onto and just watch, hold hands, and “oo” and “ahh” at all the sights we got to see just because we made it so far.

But then it started to rain a little, as it does. We didn’t do anything wrong; in fact, if we want green pastures, we have to embrace the drizzle. The precipitation, however, has caused for some muddier trails and less clear paths. We’re still holding hands, but sometimes it feels like he has to go ahead of me and all that’s left to hold on to is his pinky finger. Other times, I want to take a different road than what he’s had planned in mind, and this causes a stand-in with frowns on our faces.

Until we can discuss a more strategic plan that compromises both our philosophies, we’ll just take baby steps. There may be shoes lost in the process, but his hand is more important to hold on to.

Gotta learn to dance in the rain, baby.

The rain didn't stop us from picture-posing in Colorado, so I don't see why it would stop us now. — The rain didn’t stop us from picture-posing in Colorado, so I don’t see why it would stop us now.

Year 2, Week 10: Never make assumptions

It was a fun week of swimming, hanging out with my parents, hosting a large party (that had awesome reviews – yay!), and finding our way onto a beach to read and relax. That’s what we did but it’s not what was really on my mind.

I’ll try to be clear, but it’s going to be vague, so prepare yourselves.

It’s official: it doesn’t matter how long you’ve been together, you will experience miscommunication.

My mistake was assuming that we had moved passed the capability of being in the midst of a conflict spurred on by one of us not understanding the other. Turns out that, when new experiences arise, new conversations have to be had, and if you and he have never been in a certain scenario before – and you don’t actually hold the other person’s worldview (as much as you’re proud of knowing as much as you know) – there will be miscommunication that grew from an assumption that somebody made.

If this doesn’t make sense, that’s okay. I didn’t really believe it until this last week – and it still boggles my mind. How did I misunderstand his intentions so much?

If it’s annoying you that I’m being so vague, that’s because this is how I felt all week: feeling my way around, following one interpretation until it turned out to be wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong.

Year 2, Week 9: I choose not to grow a marriage gut

Cody bought me running shoes for Christmas last year. I was grateful for the gift – I was pleasantly surprised that he remembered me saying I needed new shoes to be active in, but I was also a bit intimidated – the bright white, light-weight soles were clearly scolding, “You have to be a serious runner to wear me!” I half expected the B logos to sound the alert – “Fraud!” – the moment I slipped the shoes on my feet.

But on a January day when the temperature finally broke freezing, I put on my fleece sweater, windbreaker pants, ankle socks, and brand new shoes. One of my colleagues had told me a few weeks earlier about how she’s been using the C25k app to start running more frequently. I was intrigued, simply because I realized I needed to start using the shoes that Cody bought me weeks beforehand. The way my friend explained it made it almost sound appealing: The c25k app basically assumes you have had zero running experience – I didn’t – and trains you to be able to run 5k in ~10 min. mile – which I thought would be kind of nice. Cody’s always talking about goals and stuff, so here was one. I could wear the shoes and that’d be that.

So, on a cloudy and relatively warm 37 degree day after work (in Chicago, you take what you can get) I chose to start my C25k training. Walking for 90 seconds and running for 60 almost didn’t seem too bad. I tried to ignore the ears stinging with cold, but I didn’t want to give Cody a reason to think his marriage to my wimpy ears or his generous purchase was bought in vain, so I kept going. I wanted to show my husband that I truly appreciated his generous gift. In the mean time, I was literally giving my heart a much-needed loving after some (much) neglect. I appreciated my warm home when I closed the workout tab on my phone.

Cody received my completed workout report (he’s one of my Runkeeper app “friends” via the MyFitnessPal app). His reaction was so simple: “Hey! Look at you!”

I can’t believe how much his simple comment fueled my motivation to keep going. Never underestimate the power of simple affirmation. Behind his four-word message was an entire high school band where trumpets were triumphantly blaring and I was the one who just scored the game-winning touchdown.

The shoes that started it all and the peanut-butter chocolate chip flapjacks that fueled me. — The shoes that started it all and the peanut-butter chocolate chip flapjacks that fueled me the day of the 5k.

Because of his support and because of MY choice to slip on the shoes he bought (even though I didn’t think I’d like running or even had the energy for it), I did run my first 5k.

Since that day, I have run a second 5k with one of my best friends, jogged in the sweltering Arkansas sun (who am I?!), and CHOSEN to wake up before sunrise on a Wednesday morning.

So what am I getting at? I guess my main message is that Cody supports my choices.

She needs shoes? Fine.
I decide to run? Awesome.
A 5k? ..that costs how much? Okay.

She wants to go to Montana for 10 days without me?
Well, duh, she should go. But I’ll miss her. The reunion will be sweet 🙂

An improv class? $450? Omg.
Yeah, okay, go have fun.

Did she really just call her new pairs of shoes “school supply shopping”?
She is on her feet all day as a teacher. I get it.

She is working late again?
What a boss. That’s why God made weekends.
I’m glad she likes what she does.

The choice to be active with my husband is also a very important choice we’ve been making. We’re trying to keep our hearts healthy so we can enjoy more years together.

Not to mention the weird motivation that’s come out of nowhere: “Ania, run one more block. It’s so your baby can have a healthy Momma.” My baby is still just an idea, but she’s already pushing me to be better. Crazy.

Just this past Saturday we decided to walk the mile to the local park, play tennis, and go swim some laps in the pool. No marriage gut for us!

Year 2, Week 8: I didn’t like my marriage this week

I didn’t like my marriage this week.

Now, keep in mind that I didn’t say anything akin to “I didn’t like being married this week” or “I didn’t like who I was married to this week.” No, I’m very clear when I say I didn’t like my marriage this week.

This week, my marriage felt stale. It felt too routine, like a sock that’s too stretched out and consequently abandoned in the back of the drawer. It felt forgotten about, like a bag of family-favorite nachos that someone forgot to seal. I’ve grown used to the feeling of a crunchy nacho when I’m in the presence of my partner, but this week I felt like there was something off. The chip didn’t crack when I bit into it. Dare I say I felt ignored, too? In fact, after Cody presented his idea of moving to Mexico for a couple months, I can’t help but admit that I felt second-best and second-choice – the cheaper cut of the meat. I wasn’t the gleaming learning opportunity just on the horizon or the soft sand beaches of wherever he would be going. No, I was the pouting wife who sort of hoped this whole plan would fall through. Am I a horrible person for thinking this way? Maybe. But I’d rather be honest.

This week made me understand why some couples don’t make it through the second year – and verified my belief that Cody and I will “make it” just fine.

This week, the lusty, I’m so in love with you feelings were not there. There was no honeymoon excitement or even an “I’m so glad I’m married” thought. No, this week, my marriage was dull.

But then we hung out with our niece and nephew on Saturday night and had a genuinely good time with them. We had breakfast with my parents before church on Sunday morning, and then we walked to the zoo with my other brother and his family. During all this quality time, I couldn’t help but notice how affectionate my husband was being and, over the course of the weekend, it was enough to remind me that I am definitely not second-best. This weekend, he held my hand and we talked about something other than monthly budgets, Roth IRAs, morning routine building, meal-planning, and financial independence. While we watched the Brookfield Zoo sea lions with Cody making jokes about the overweight seal sitting motionless as the other Geralds swam around, I realized things weren’t so bad. The super-in-love feelings weren’t gone for good, they just went dormant for a little while so that we could focus on other things. Although Cody may try to find ways to make his life better, I am the best thing. He made sure his quality time with me proved so.

This last week, I didn’t like my marriage, so I told my husband. Quality time and open communication patched that right up. Sometimes you have to talk about what’s bugging you if you ever hope to fix it. To make it better, you have to uncover the bandaid and let the wound breathe a little, even if it stings.

Now I’m here listing the things he does for me that often go unnoticed. When I start thinking I’m second-best, I realize it’s because I’m comparing the way he shows love with the ways somebody else might. So no, my husband doesn’t show love like everybody else.

Instead…

He does the dishes when I’m too tired after work.
He’ll take out the trash because his parents raised him to.
He’ll respond “Yes, ma’am?” when I call his name from across the room.
He’ll hold my hand when we’re fighting.
He opens his arms and clasps them around me when he sees I’ve had a long day.

He won’t celebrate Valentine’s Day, but he lets me have the last piece of Waffle House chicken.
He won’t buy me a card for the holidays, but he’ll buy me plane tickets to Hawaii to visit my best friend.
He won’t buy me a new dress and lay it on the bed, but he will bite his lip when I slip on his plaid long-sleeve.
He won’t announce on Facebook how much he loves me because it’s in the glint of his eye when I do or say something silly in front of his friends. It’s the kind of stuff I used to think made me “weird” or unlikeable. Turns out somebody loves the part of me I thought was undesirable.
He won’t post #wcw on one of my pictures, but he will put his hand on the small of my back and whisper, “You’re so beautiful.”
He won’t take me out to dinner every Friday, but he will light candles after putting a pizza in the oven.

I feel like I could go on, but I won’t. My point is, there are ways to make the chips crisp again. I didn’t like my marriage this last week, but I did choose love every day. And so did he. That’s why we’ll be just fine.

IMG_20160822_210909

Year 2, Week 7: Long distance… again?

This found poem, created by Austin Kleon, was my gift to Cody in honor of our first wedding anniversary. It’s nothing too fancy: a piece of paper housed in a simple black frame. This poem best describes my perception of marriage as a safety from never having to do long distance ever again (if you’re in the same bathroom, you’re not exactly counting down the days until the next time you get see each other!). In fact, one of my favorite things ever about marriage is the sense of security I feel when I realize my best friend won’t leave my side – he promised that much. And the man keeps his promises.

So what is this feeling I get when Cody walks in the house after a long day at work and, with a grin, tells me about his plan to apply for an opportunity that gets his blood flowing in all the right places? He can work for his current company and learn something new somewhere else.

Yes! Go for it, baby! I have no doubt they’ll see your value and accept you right on the spot. You’ve been waiting a while to have this feeling pulling you towards something so strongly. Embrace it.

Where are they located again? I asked. Sorry, I may have missed it when you said it earlier.

…Mexico?

Hm. Well.
I support you, no matter what. You know that.

But isn’t marriage not leaving?
I guess 2 months isn’t that long; military couples are apart for way longer. This could be so good for him!
I’ll be fine; I’ve been finding ways to entertain myself since 1992.

But I thought this long distance thing was done.
But I did get to travel in Spain for a month and then go to Montana on my own, too… He should have the same freedom!

Will we be apart for Thanksgiving? Or his birthday? Or my birthday?
Grr.
Obviously I need to let him go and be 150% supportive,
but it’s hard being supportive.

I thought marriage meant not leaving.
But two individuals following their passions is more important than two individuals squandering their desires simply to be standing in the same bathroom at the same time, flossing miserably.

I suppose he can watch me brush my teeth via Skype. It’s not like we haven’t done it before.

Year 2, Week 6: Better Together

My husband has always loved water; maybe all the ponds, lakes, rivers, and oceans he’s fallen in love with are all reflected in the blue eyes with which he shows his love for me (yeah, yeah, okay, too corny, even for me). In all seriousness though, the sight of water really does calm Cody, massaging his soul more than music, exercise, and even reading.

For me, an equivalent escape has always been found amidst mountains. It’s hard to explain the feeling I get the moment I see a change in topography from my Midwestern plains to a lift in the land. I am filled with anticipation and quiet expectation – what will I learn about myself here? What will be revealed while I’m here? Where do I need to feel small in my life again? What will I finally embrace about myself? To find myself in the mountains is to be reminded that life is a gift to be treasured and used wisely – It is the realization that I am actually very small.

Cody’s escape is water; mine is the mountain air. Er, that’s how it usually was, anyway.

Cody has been to many incredible mountain ranges already, but I felt particularly honored when I was able to watch him fall in love with the mountains like I had a decade before. I will never forget how much joy was radiating from my husband when we had gone as close to Long’s Peak in the Rocky Mountains as we physically could as a group.

Cody pointing out the snow over yonder. Look at that big ol’ smile!

The boy could have done fifty cartwheels and not tire. His pure joy was shining – the boy was a happy human and I was excited to see him so happy.So fast forward to this last weekend when we were at the lake. I had an incredible time, and Cody noticed how much I was enjoying myself

by frequently commenting how much he loves “Summer Ania”, telling me “[I] should keep her around” even when I have to start teaching in a couple weeks again.

I was sad to leave when the sun went down, but my heart was soaring on the car ride back home. Cody could probably feel it because he broke our thoughtful silence:

“You know what’s funny? How you felt today is how I felt when I was in the mountains. And mountains are usually your thing and water is usually mine.”

I thought about his observation and added, “You had your best friends in the mountains and, today, I was with one of my closest friends by the water. Maybe it doesn’t matter so much where you are but rather who you’re with.”

And, honestly, even though we’ve had wonderful opportunities to travel so much this year, the biggest reason they’ve been so extraordinary is because we’re seeing these places together. We’re hiking the same paths, “ooh”ing at the same sights, and reminiscing about the same memories when we’re lounging on our living room floor months after we’ve returned.

Even when we’re home, however, we’re seeking those same memories to make with people who are important to us: friends that have become family and, on the opposite side of the spectrum, those we’ve met that we hope become good friends.

At the end of the day, Cody and I are building our very own village:
even though life is being kind today, who will be by our side when life becomes difficult tomorrow? Who will help us raise our children into good people? Who laughs at the same things we do, and cares about the world in the same capacity? And – most importantly – who will help us be our best selves so that our marriage continues to be a refuge where we don’t feel the need to escape anymore?

Year 2, Week 5: Family Comes First

We should be in Puerto Rico right now. But we’re not. And that’s completely okay with us. Let me explain.

One of my very best friends was gearing up to graduate with her Master’s Degree in July AND simultaneously celebrating her acceptance into a Ph.D. program (for which she weathered many obstacles and worked exceptionally hard). I try to support my friends’ decisions as much as I can and am very vocal in celebrating just about any success they experience. This time was no different. I asked Cody how he would feel about taking the celebration to Puerto Rico, giving my friend the round-trip plane tickets as a gift (for the next 5 Christmases and birthdays, too) for her amazing work. He agreed!

So we bought the tickets, gave her the news, and were really excited for the prospect of scuba diving along the shores of PR and finding days that he’d be able to work remotely while still enjoying our time there. That fun stopped to a grinding halt, however, when I read on the news that Zika was in Puerto Rico and great care should be taken while traveling there.

Cody and I want to be parents one day. We believe we can be good parents who raise good people. So to read that Zika – a virus that could severely harm my baby – was alive and well in PR, there was hardly any discussion as to whether we should still fly to our planned destination. I would regret it so much if anything happened as a result of our travels there. We made a decision as parents, already, that we would take every precaution to protect our baby. We canceled the plane tickets and gave my friend (who took the canceled trip with extraordinary grace and understanding that I will always remember, admire, and respect) the reasons for the cancelation.

After beating myself up for a little while for not planning better before I got everyone’s hopes up, I decided to channel that energy into planning a trip to Arkansas instead (I told you in last week’s that it was going to be time to visit soon – life just made it happen a little sooner).

I am so grateful that we rode the wave instead of getting mad at the choppy waters. My friend was a wonderful example of grace, and I truly believe her selfless support of my decision for my future babies has cemented our friendship for posterity. Cody’s quick agreement made it easier on me, too.

We saw the choice in front of us: go to Puerto Rico, or not. We chose that the health of our family is way more important a trip we have been saving up for. We chose to use that time to visit our family in Arkansas, who we were were going to visit anyway, but decided it was smarter to do it sooner (especially since Cody’s grandpa had emergency heart surgery last week! We got to visit him and have a really nice time together.)

Instead of getting mad that life wasn’t going exactly according to plan, we chose to enjoy the ride anyway. In this case, the choice was very clear: Family always always always comes first.

You can't prepare for the gusts of wind, but you can choose whether you'll grumble or laugh. You can see which we prefer. — You can’t prepare for the gusts of wind, but you can choose whether you’ll grumble or laugh. You can see which we prefer.

Guest Post: Ms. Sherry’s 2nd Year and Giving it Your All

My marriage would simply not be how it is if I hadn’t experienced and observed the fruits of loving marriages around me. I feel as if I could go on and on about which couples have affected me the most but, instead, I’ll choose one that has deeply affected my own psyche and approach to marriage.

Ms. Sherry works at my alma mater, an all-girls high school that guides teenage girls towards the empowerment of themselves through education while becoming compassionate leaders who speak the truth and build diverse community. A natural bi-product of this “become independent” “you don’t need no man” mentality unfortunately collided with my own desires to be in a co-dependent relationship one day. In fact, I seemed to take the warnings of “you’d be just fine if you were alone” to the opposite side of the spectrum that led me to believe that, besides the fear of failure, I was terribly afraid of losing my significant other one day.

I didn’t realize that it was this fear that kept a wall around my heart (ugh, cliches) for most of my relationship with Cody. You may wonder what exactly this means. Here’s an easy example that’s found its way into our marriage despite my “opening up”:

If Cody said ANYTHING that seemed to, in any way, threaten my independence, a fight would ensue (C: “Hey, let’s talk about a budget.” A: “NO. IT’S MY MONEY! My sophomore biology teacher warned us never to rely financially on a man!” C: “But it’s our budget with our money.” A: “No! IT’S MY hard-earned MONEY.” And so it would continue until I realized my ideals do not have to fight with his/our ideas of teamwork.) P.S. Now I know that as long as my own spending is in the budget we created together, he’s actually not preventing me from doing anything. Turns out fear makes us act weird. Go figure.

So I reasoned that, if I didn’t allow him to totally infiltrate my life, then if he were to someday “leave” (that’s what we call dying, because I trust that he wouldn’t just “leave” the relationship), I would still be able to function. I would be fine. My counselor told me so!

I wasn’t sure just how to reconcile the constant fear of dooming thoughts: “What if things are going so well now because he won’t be here tomorrow? Or after the birth of our first child, what if something horrible happens?” The thoughts wouldn’t go away – and it kept Cody a little farther away than I think I realized at the time.

And then, one day, I received the sad news that Ms. Sherry’s husband had “left.” She and her family (who are very close) were understandably devastated and they honored me with the request to play the piano and sing at his funeral. I saw past teachers, friends, and a familiar piano. I played my heart out and fought back the tears. This is my worst fear happening right in front of me, I thought. How in the world is a wife whose best friend just died, able to move on?

I was surprised by the immediate reaction to my own thoughts: “Of course she will move on just fine. She’s Ms. Sherry. She is kind, loving, and warm to everyone she meets. She will miss him – A LOT – but he did not make her her. She was already wonderful. He just helped bring that wonder out in her. She’ll just keep loving. It will hurt, but she will be okay.”

My confidence in Ms. Sherry’s character was enough to help convince me that allowing my future husband completely into my life is not just a choice – it is a necessity. How else can we be a complete team if I keep preparing for the day when he can’t show up to a game? To be a real team, we have to truly be together, from day one.

A few months later, as our wedding date was quickly approaching I made the necessary choice to try and knock down all the “I need to be as independent as possible just in case he leaves” walls that had been built. It was incredible how many there were (and how many we’re still trying to break down). Years and years of “Don’t let them get too close. You’re a strong woman, you don’t need anybody!” were piled up on each other.

It was scary, it left me vulnerable,but it opened me up to pure magic that I simply would not have had access to if I hadn’t scooped Cody up, dropped him where even I don’t want to go, and said, “HERE. All of it. Take it. I trust you. You’ll only make me better.” Then I paused and said, “And when you do ‘leave’ one day…”

“…You’ll be okay,” Cody responded with a smile.

Because she has deeply affected my own life, I asked Ms. Sherry to find a picture from her second year of marriage and write her own reflection. I’m so honored to share it here:

“Our 2nd year continued our love affair that lasted our entire marriage. Best friends, sweethearts, soul mates until the very end. The arrival of our first son 20 months after being married brought us closer than I thought possible. When/if you have been blessed to find the person of your dreams, hold on to them with every ounce of your heart and soul, even through the trying times. Marriage is not 50/50. It’s 80/80. You both have to give a little more.”

A memory from Sherry's second year of marriage. — A memory from Sherry’s second year of marriage.

Thank you, Ms. Webb!

Year 2, Week 4: He shows up

We were about a year into our relationship, and I knew Cody would be flying in for our once-every-three-months visit while I was still at work (playing the piano at church). I asked him if he wouldn’t mind taking the bus from the airport to the church so that I could give him a big hug the moment Mass was over instead of him waiting at the airport and waiting for me to come get him. I also secretly wanted him to be part of something that made me happy; he had never heard me perform in “that” capacity before (leading ~100 people in song) so I was really excited and nervous to have him kind of just walk in while I was doing something I loved.

I wanted two things from his presence: to get a glimpse at why this was an important part of my life and to share the experience with him.

In equation form, this looked like:

Doing something that made me happy
+
sharing what made me happy with someone who made me happy
=
happy happy joy joy

Let’s fast-forward about six years from that day to February 2016.

If you want the long version, keep reading! (if you want the short version, just find the bolded phrase below): My colleague encouraged me to think about participating in an improv class during the summer. He outlined the differences between short-form improv, long-form improv, stand-up comedy, and the price tag differences on the various theaters around the city (ComedySportz, Second City, Improv Olympics, etc.) In the end, I chose ComedySportz, since they pride themselves on performing shows that are for the whole family – and they specialize in short-form improv (short, spit-fire games run competition-style between two three-person teams that keep the show moving along really nicely). Unfortunately, however, even the least expensive camp was pretty expensive.

Cody and I (try to) run on a tight budget so that we experience more cool things instead of buying more things. I wasn’t sure if my financial partner would be cool with me spending the equivalent of one month’s food budget for an improv comedy class that lasted only one week.

So here’s the SHORT form of the story (Haha, get it? No? You shouldn’t have been lazy then.)

I was encouraged to take an improv class this summer. It sounded like fun.
I told Cody I’d like to take an improv class. I don’t think he took me seriously.
I looked up the ComedySportz summer class information. I told Cody about it. I think he started to take me seriously now.
“Hey Cody, you know how you took an online course that cost a few hundred dollars? Well, this improv class is something like it.” I think I saw his hand reach in protective instinct for his wallet.
I went on a school-sponsored trip to Browning, Montana the same day early-bird registration ended. I didn’t have a chance before we left to discuss how my choice to attend this class would affect our financial goals and I couldn’t reach Cody while in Montana, so I neglected to register for the class. I was going to miss the deadline and I slowly allowed myself to realize that this class might not work out after all. All these realizations made me sad.
A couple days later, a text message from Cody appeared (Whoa! Service in Browning, MT? Yay!): “Alright! You’re all signed up for the improv class!”
Ridiculous smiling and slight shock ensued. This wasn’t part of the plan, but he did it anyway. He’s a good husband.
Class was attended! I became a little funnier. I believe I’ll be an even better English teacher now that I know games that disguise learning.
Teacher of class tells me there’s a show I get to be in?! Amazing! Show time is set for 5pm on Saturday.
How are all the people I know all busy on the day I most want them there? Whattabummer.
Cody’s capture of the show’s beginning. Here’s me pointing at all the people who weren’t able to make it but were cheering me on from a distance <3.
Hey! My brother and sister-in-law came! My old roommate and his brother came! And, duh, Cody is here.

Cody always shows up. He has shown his support for things that make me happy for as long as I can remember. How is this just hitting me now?

So – for a final review:

If it’s important to you and he makes you happy..
then the one who shows up should be the one you marry.

Year 2, Week 3: Meeting in the Middle

Little did I realize that, when I successfully resolved one long-distance relationship by helping Cody move to Chicago from Philadelphia, I was actually adding an entire community of long-distance relationships to my life.

Since Cody’s family lives in Arkansas, we’re essentially in a long distance relationship with my in-laws and, although some women are muttering “Be thankful for the distance!” I can’t even say I’m grateful for that. I adore my in-laws and see them as an integral part of my own family. It really stinks that we can’t just come over on a Sunday afternoon, have some delicious food, play some board games with our grandparents, swim in their big, beautiful pool, and drive back refreshed, re-energized, and ready for the new week ahead. Instead, I’m perpetually on the look-out for at-least five day weekends so that if we decide to make the ~14 hour drive, we can at least spend a solid three days there.

I'd start walking your way/ You'd start walking mine/ We'd meet in the middle.../ We'd gain a lot of ground/ 'Cause we'd both give a little/ There ain't no road too long/ When we meet in the middle" — “I’d start walking your way/
You’d start walking mine/
We’d meet in the middle…/
We’d gain a lot of ground/
‘Cause we’d both give a little/
There ain’t no road too long/
When we meet in the middle” – “Meet in the Middle” by Diamond Rio

I’m embarrassed to admit how long it took me to realize that there is an alternative. I remember when I was wedding planning one day and realized that we did not need to plan for “only-Arkansas” trips anymore… we could meet in the middle! I immediately called Cody’s mom and asked her what she thought of meeting half-way between our cities of residence. It would mean six hour drives, but six hours is preferable to fourteen – right? Thankfully, she agreed, and we had our first “Meet in the Middle” trip in St. Louis a few months ago. We had our second trip this last weekend, in Cape Girardeau!

This was the song Cody and I would listen to while we were long-distance, dreaming about the day we’d be able to enjoy the fact that we’re close enough to easily walk to each other.

It was wonderful to spend time with the set of parents we don’t get to see as often, and I have to admit that even when we left on Sunday after a full day and half together (you take what you can get when you’re long-distance, no matter what), I still felt pretty sad. Even though we’ve tried out this half-way way of doing things, we’re still not able to have the experiences spent with Cody’s more extended family, especially his grandparents. We really miss them!

So as much as we love the shorter commute time, I think it’s time to just “bite the bullet” as they say and take the longer drive to see our Nana, Pa, PawPaw and MawMaw.

Like Tim McGraw says in his song Humble and Kind, “Visit grandpa every chance that you get – it won’t be wasted time.”