David has one characteristic that is diametrically at odds with me – his inability to plan/think ahead. I, of course, am a first class planner and am known for discussing next year’s Thanksgiving day plans while still enjoying Thanksgiving dinner. I recognized this flaw while planning our wedding. While my mother and I were busy trying to determine flowers, music, colors, etc David didn’t understand what all the rush was about. I almost killed him. Over the years I’ve learned to appreciate this attribute. I’ve learned to recognize God’s wisdom in putting us together. In other words, I’ve learned to go with the flow a bit more. However, once in awhile these adamantly opposed characteristics rear their ugly heads for marital disputes that are monumental.

From the time the pregnancy test came back positive David indicated that he wanted to send our kids to private school. He had attended a private elementary school and felt that it had given him a solid footing in his education. I, having no strong opinions on the issue, agreed. As the time grew closer for Lucy to attend school I began doing research. I spent close to a year reading about schools, asking families, parents, co-workers, etc. I called schools, visited schools, and read about curriculum choices. I whittled the selection down to three schools which I presented to David in a Powerpoint presentation, including a full financial comparison. (Yes, I am THAT anal retentive). He then selected two schools from my presentation that he wanted to visit in person. After those visitations we selected a school. I then eagerly picked up the reigns and drove the application process until Lucy was accepted and we were ready to pay the bill and sign on the dotted line. Mission Complete!

Although we’ve had the final papers for admission for close to two weeks it is only now, 48 hours before the deadline, that I’ve gotten David to focus on signing them. As he waivered over the papers he turned to me and said; “why are we doing this again? I mean this is A LOT of money. Why aren’t we sending her to public school?” It is due only to the fact that we have been married for eight years that I didn’t instantly begin strangling him. After close to 18 months of research and examining the schools does he only NOW want to talk about this with me? It is only NOW that the costs seem prohibitive? Not the dozen or so times I had talked about it before? Every atom in my body began tingling when he said that. I wanted to say; “ARE YOU SERIOUS?! ARE YOU TELLING ME THAT ALL THE TIME AND ENERGY I’VE INVESTED IN THIS DECISION WAS A WASTE BECAUSE YOU JUST WANT TO SEND OUR KIDS TO PUBLIC SCHOOL?” or maybe something more like; “IF YOU DON’T SIGN THESE PAPERS I’M GOING TO MAKE YOU EAT THEM.”

However, I said neither of these things. I calmly explained (for the 1,512th time) why we had decided on this particular school. I listened to his objections (again) and answered his questions (again) struggling to not let neither sarcasm nor resentment creep into my voice. When my answers failed I pulled out my ace; “you know, you should call your mother and talk to her about this”. My MIL is a woman who has got my back. After a quick fifteen minute conversation David was back on my side and signed the papers. Crisis diverted.

You see a good marriage is not between two people who don’t fight, but between two people who have learned to fight effectively. I could have pointed out his inability to think ahead and how much it drives me crazy, but that wouldn’t have gotten me what I wanted. I needed to let him wander around and turn over all the rocks one last time before he committed our money. I knew eventually he’d sign the papers, he just needed that time. Although if he had delayed signing those papers just a minute longer I would have kicked his ass.

I won’t do it. I refuse. I cannot support one more fictional character invading my house and giving my kids candy. I’m all for Santa Claus and even the Tooth Fairy, but the Easter Bunny? C’mon people. I have a daughter who at three years old told me the characters at Disney World were really people wearing costumes. You think she’s going to believe a giant rabbit busted into her house in the middle of the night and left eggs? Oh, and last year she asked me how the Easter Bunny carried all those eggs. How does he do it? I have no idea. Not to mention that I have a hard enough time balancing Passover Seder and Easter dinner you want me to throw in some pagan spring rituals too? I can’t do it people. I won’t. Happy freakin’ Easter!

One of the hardest things I face as a college professor are young, teen mothers. When I meet them they are in one of two places; pregnant and blissfully excited or with a preschool aged child, single and determined. I waiver between wanting to lecture these girls or take them home with me.

The pregnant ones break my heart. They are passionately “in love” with their boyfriend whom they “know” will stand by them after the baby is born. However, when I look into their eyes they don’t know about the bomb that is about to detonate in their life. Some of them have a plan, but unfortunately, most don’t. Some of them have parents supporting them, but most are on their own. Disappointed, disgusted and dazed parents who in order to express their displeasure have forced the girl into being dependent on the one guy who probably does not have her best interests at heart. Many of them think that they will continue to go to school after the baby, or work, or both. So I find myself with three precious months to do the best I can to tell them, warn them, and prepare them for motherhood. How do you do that?

A nineteen year old is ill prepared to understand the depth that they will need to give in order to be a mother. It is not the obvious (sleepless nights) but the lack of energy, focus, time, money that is more subversive. When I hear these girls tell me, so confidently, “I’m only taking one semester off for the baby and then I’m coming back”. Yeah. That was like me telling the dentist that I would come back for those x-rays right after Lucy was born. Hmm, that was also the last time I saw a dentist – any dentist – in 2003. This is not to say that somehow when you get older you magically understand the depth of motherhood. You don’t. You bring that first baby home and it launches its own “shock and awe” campaign. Nobody can truly describe motherhood.

I recently was talking to one of my students who poignantly phrased it like this; “I mean, I want to have kids, but like, you have to give your WHOLE life to them. I don’t think I’m ready for that.” Yep, your WHOLE life and at nineteen you haven’t lived enough of your life to even know what it is you’re giving. A couple of semesters ago I had a young girl, pregnant, unmarried, working at Blockbuster making $7 an hour. She was working 40 hours a week because she needed the money to pay for rent, food, etc. However, all that time at work combined with pregnancy fatigue gave her little time to do her schoolwork. She was failing. When I asked her what her plans were after the baby was born, she shrugged her shoulders. I lie awake at night thinking about her. How will she survive? How will she support her child? When will the cycle be broken?

As a society we have failed these girls. Our men have failed these girls. Fathers who neglected their daughters create young girls desperate for affection. Societal messages that support and condone premarital sex, combined with a sex education system that half the time doesn’t know what it is supposed to be doing, leaves these girls poorly armed to make good decisions. I understand that teenagers have, and will continue to have, sex before marriage. This is not a modern phenomenon. Unfortunately I think all the lectures and finger pointing has always gone in the direction of the girls – the girls who must live with the consequences of these decisions. Why are we not equally shaking our fingers at the boys? Where is the societal pressure and displeasure at the boys? Why are we not holding our boys and men more accountable for THEIR choices? Why are we not raising our boys to feel more responsibility, to honor and protect women and not “get what they can get”?

As a mother, and a teacher, I’m sad for these girls. What will their future be like? What will the future of their children be like? Perhaps ignorance is bliss and they will be gleefully happy because they don’t know what they’ve missed. I can only hope.

How many of us have blogged about our marriage? And I don’t mean in order to ooze over the awesomeness of our husbands/wives? It is difficult to blog regularly and not implicate the very people that are closest to us. In a way I’m lucky – David doesn’t read my blog. Oh, I think he likes for me to think that he does, but he doesn’t. I could pretty much say anything about him and he wouldn’t know. However, is that preventing us from utilizing an alternative means of communication?

MSNBC recently published an article about how many couples use blogging as a way to air grievances in their marriage and as a result, solve problems. Personally, I would never do this. It seems rather passive-aggressive to me to complain about your husband on your blog before you would address that problem directly to him. Don’t get me wrong, I am the queen of passive-aggressive behavior. I have been known to not do laundry, mumble under my breath, and sulk in privacy. However, even I wouldn’t air my dirty laundry on this blog. Yes, that means that everything I’ve ever complained about here I have already complained about twenty-times over directly to David.

Technology is playing a more intricate role in marital relationships. When arguments get particularly sticky for David and I we resort to instant messenger. I’ll sit in the family room, he in his office. The time it takes to type and the premeditation of the message, allows us to have far more productive conversations. David and I have successfully resolved large issues in our relationship via instant messenger. What about texting? email? Are these methods supporting good marital communication or providing us with an easy out to actually having human contact? Do we blog about our partners because we don’t have the courage to discuss these things face to face?

How about you? Do you and your partner use alternative means of communication? Do you text message your fights? Email your complaints? Have you blogged about a problem with your partner that you had not previously discussed?

Well, the Texas weather has finally caught up with me and I’m down with a head cold. However, even in my current state of snot-filled agony, there have been a couple of things that have been making me happy. I thought I would share:

1.) Emergen-C
I have tried dozens of times in my life to take a multi-vitamin with no luck. Inevitably, a big vitamin pill upsets my stomach. Even when I was pregnant I had to split my vitamins up into four separate pills and take them throughout the day. Well, no more. Emergen-C is a liquid vitamin. You mix it with water and drink, twice a day. I like the raspberry flavor. It is fizzy, sweet and doesn’t affect my stomach at all. Even though I’m sick I do think it has prevented me from getting really, seriously sick.

2.) Archer Brand Nuts
This is like my thousandth reason for loving Target. I’ve recently (as in yesterday) discovered their buttered-crunch cashews. OH MY GOODNESS!! I’ve eaten almost an entire jar in two days and I don’t even like nuts. I also like their cinnamon almonds. They are like a little present for my mouth and aren’t nuts good for you? Even if they are covered in butter and cinnamon?

3.) School
David and I made the quasi-controversial decision to send Lucy to private school. Honestly, the whole idea that some private Christian school would accept me and my child seems mind-boggling to me. I mean, if they really knew me. If they knew the sarcastic, irreverent, smart-ass, analytical, academic, sometimes not-so-together mother, they would never let me in their school. And yet, we were happily and readily accepted this week. I’m happy for Lucy. It is a small school and I feel confident that this will help her make the transition. I have no idea how long we will be able to afford to send our kids to private school, but we will take it one year at a time.

4.) The Neti-Pot
It is gross. The whole thought of doing it offends me. However, after everyone in the house getting sick I was desperate to do anything to speed this cold along. That is right, I’m flushing my nasal passages. But you know what? It works. That is right, it really does help control congestion.

5.) My Husband
I’m working on a post that discusses why, or if, we complain about our husbands on our blogs. However, until I publish that I want to give props to my husband today. He has worked close to a 60 hour week over the past 4 days and he’s completely exhausted. He works this hard so I can stay home, raise our kids, and noodle on the internet (oh, and teach part-time, but whatever). I know this is a large burden to carry and he does it with little complaint. Not every woman has this option or this latitude in her life and I could not feel more blessed. David’s job is stressful and many times when he comes home he is an empty version of what I kissed goodbye in the morning. Perhaps I should stop nagging at him about leaving his clothes on the floor? Nah.

This is our oak tree. Every spring it develops wasp galls. These little sacks house a wasp larvae. It grows, crawls out and the gall turns brown and drops on our yard. Very annoying. This is also my indication that spring has arrived and with it my allergies. Even though I sound sick and feel sick, I am not sick. Whatever.

Per societal instruction, David and I child-proofed our house when Lucy was two. Lucy, being the rule-follower, didn’t really need these added safety measures and so we didn’t go crazy. When Max came along we realized that greater precautions were required and so things like the china cabinet got packed up. We installed latches on certain cabinets and electrical outlets were covered. Well, most of the electrical outlets were covered. We ignored the ones we didn’t think he’d notice – like the one behind the couch.

Lucy: MOMMY! HURRY! We stuck something on the wall and it won’t come off
Me: what?
Lucy: We stuck something on the wall and it won’t come off
Me: what did you stick?
Lucy: I don’t know what it is called but hurry.

I meander into the family room expecting one of the following; a booger, a piece of gum, or yogurt. Instead, I find Max jumping on the couch squealing; “huwwy, a fiwe! a fiwe!” Lucy dodges behind the couch and points to a paper clip sticking out of an electrical outlet. NICE.

Me: WHO DID THIS?!
Max: ME!
Me: Maaaax, are you okay?
Max: YEP!
Me: Maxie, this is bad. Look at Mommy, you are NEVER to stick ANYTHING into an electrical outlet. Do you understand?
Max: (jumping and laughing) uh-huh.
Me: MAX! Look at me I want you to say “yes Ma’am”.
Max: Yes Ma’am! (still jumping)

At this point I’m dumbfounded. How he managed to find the paper clip, find the outlet, make the two things meet and not kill himself is mind-boggling. I go get David.

David: MAX LANE DID YOU DO THIS?
Max: YEP!!
David: MAX, THIS IS VERY, VERY BAD! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?
Max: YEP!!
David: Did you see sparks?
Max (quite excited now): YEP! THERE WAS FIWE AND IT WENT POW!

David and I exchange the “Lord-above-our-child-almost-killed-himself-but-we-aren’t-going-to-show-panic” glance.

David: Max, why would you do this?
Max: uh, I don’t know
David: Did it just look like fun?
Max:(shrugs his shoulders) yeah

I have years of this ahead of me. Conversations that end with me asking “Why would you light your own fart?” or maybe, “Did it seem like a good idea to skateboard blind-folded?” or perhaps, “Why would you shoot yourself with a paint gun?” I would like just one of my friends who has all girls to tell me that they have experienced anything even remotely similar. It doesn’t happen. Girls do not need to experience life in a completely “hands-on” mode. You can say “that is dangerous” and that is enough for them. They don’t still feel compelled to find out exactly how dangerous, the warning was sufficient. Little boys only understand the world by rolling around in it, eating it, tasting it, smelling it, poking it and shoving it into their ear. It’s a miracle any of them survive to see adulthood.