YOU are in BIG trouble, young Lady!

this post is linked up with mamakat's writer's workshop...
  
I'm sure I heard that phrase (or something like it), "You're in big trouble, young Lady"  many times during my childhood.
To be honest, I'm not sure if Mom or Dad said that about this situation, but Man, Oh, Man was it implied!
When I was about 10 or 11, (old enough to know better) I went snooping for my Christmas presents  I was convinced by my brother to go snooping for our Christmas presents.  So, much as I love you, Bro, I think you'll agree there are many times I would NOT have gotten in trouble if I had told you "NO!"
So anyway, really close to Christmas this year...we were already out of school for the holidays.  I think Mom was asleep, and I was too until my younger brother came and woke me.
"Leslie! I found our Christmas presents."
Now if you know me, you know I am NOT a morning person! It takes me a little time to process anything when I first wake up!
Obviously, I was not thinking clearly because I just got up and followed him, with no regard for consequences what-so-ever.
I guess he'd been looking for awhile...somewhere along the way, he decided to get Mom's keys.  When he checked the trunk of her car, low and behold, there they all were!
We rifled through there figuring out what was mine and what was his.  I was so excited! I have ALWAYS loved music and one off my gifts was a small keyboard.
I truly do not remember what else was in there for me - the keyboard was it for me!
And believe it or not, we didn't get busted while we were in there poking around.
We put everything back, Mom was still sleeping, and none-the-wiser; or so we thought...
The next time Mom went to put something in her trunk, I guess she knew there'd been a breach!
We got a lecture; as punishment we were told all of the gifts we saw were going back.  We shouldn't get too excited; we wouldn't be getting any of them!
I was devastated!
Keep in mind, this was a few days, maybe a week, before Christmas! In my mind, what could possibly be out there better than that keyboard?
In the end, we did actually receive the gifts we saw.  BUT it really wasn't as great to open them...the surprise was that we still received them, not that we were "receiving" them for the first time.
As a parent, I totally understand how disappointed Mom and Dad must have been! We were old enough to no longer think Santa brought the gifts, and so is my Sweetpea. But one of the best parts of gifting, especially to children is seeing the look on their little faces! Experiencing the excitement with them the first time!
We robbed our parents of that opportunity and for that I am truly sorry! 
The trouble we got in, probably wasn't BIG enough for what we did.
Sorry, Mom and Dad!

Sweet Pea's Birth story Part III

In anticipation of my baby girl's 7th birthday, I am sharing her birth story. If you missed the first two installments,  read them here and here.

Last time, I finished up with the administering of an epidural and pitocin to get things moving along.
AND the moving was SSLLLOOOOOWWW!

Every so often the nurse would come in and check me, the doctor on call would pop in and say hello; with the "drugs" I was probably the happiest I had been since 6 weeks of pregnancy (when morning sickness set in)!
I knew I was having a baby SOONER rather than later; I could watch the contractions on the screen without experiencing the discomfort of them; and overall, though exhausted, I was pretty comfortable.

And so it went: a centimeter here, a half centimeter there.
By now, my parents and in-laws had arrived.  My co-workers had been informed.  My dutiful husband had made all the necessary calls once the sun was up and timing was more appropriate.
My Mom and Mother-in-Law were both light-hearted and trying to make me laugh, though I was clearly getting anxious.

Eight hours after starting pitocin, I was still only dilated to 6 cm.
The nurses and doctors were getting concerned; I'd been in labor for 16 hours already but wasn't dilated enough to push.  Her head wasn't even really "engaged" in the birth canal.
They begin to mention the dreaded C word - CESAREAN!

AND that brought more tears.
I asked why?!
I protested! Can't we wait a little longer?
I was warned about the risk of infection for me and for her.
I prayed!
I prayed harder!

The decision had to be made (albeit most of it wasn't really up to me).  The nurses tried to be comforting...they said things like "Honey, you can't help it if your body isn't cooperating!"

Really? That's supposed to make me feel better?
I'm lying here, 50 pounds heavier than before I was pregnant, feeling like a blimp, knowing my HIPS have always been my biggest -ahem- asset, and you're telling me my baby CAN'T come through them?

The doctor on call already a scheduled C-section. He left me with the understanding that when he got out of that surgery, if I hadn't dramatically progressed, we'd all be going back into the OR.

That hour and a half or two hour period, whatever it was, I prayed and I pleaded.  I begged God to please let me get her out "normally!"
I bartered! I promised Him, if he would do just this one thing for me, I would take better care of myself the next pregnancy, etc., etc., etc...

So the minutes and seconds on the clock ticked by...
Even as I told our parents about it, I didn't actually believe I would end up having a C-section.

BUT, that is exactly what happened.

They came back in, checked me (still not over 6 cm) and started prepping me for surgery.
My epidural was cranked up so that I was pretty much numb from the chest down ~ kind of a scary feeling the first time you experience it.

And it is sort of a blur here...I was obviously anxious, scared, weepy...
I do remember the complete LOSS of modesty...sort of felt like road kill sprawled out on the operating table in all the non-glory that was my nine month pregnant body.
I remember that crazy curtain they put up between my abdomen and my face - as if I were too stupid to know they were about to remove not only my baby but also many of my organs in this process.
My poor husband! Not usually squeemish, but I really don't think he wanted to see his wife dismantled in the process of removing his first child.

I did get a verbal play-by-play from the doctor:
"Ok- I'm making the first incision; please tell me if you can feel anything."
"You're gonna feel some pressure; we need to press down on your belly to get to the uterus and the baby" (THAT hurt like hell by the way).

I'm sure he also gave some updates as he saw her; as he pulled her out...but I didn't hear anything else once I knew he was close to her.
I was listening...
with every ounce of power I had in my bloated body...
where was it?
I just wanted to hear IT!
That first audible "glimpse" of her "voice..."

Where was it?
And then I heard it!
The sweetest sound I'd ever heard in my entire life to this point!
"WAAAGGHH! WAAAGGHH!"

And that was it! I was bawling! I was in love!
I just wanted these people to stitch me up or staple me up or what the heck ever and let me hold her!

I had to settle for Daddy holding her and bringing her around to my face...on the way, I heard him say to her "Why wouldn't you come out?!"
This sweet sentiment that totally told me and her (though she still will not know it for years) how badly he wanted her to be here.
How long he'd wanted to hold her, waited to hold her...
This man who had NEVER held a baby before, was now holding his first child, OUR first child in his arms.
And I knew she was safe.
And I knew it was okay that I had to wait to hold her.

So that's it!
She started out a Daddy's girl, and to this day she still is!
The nurses were so captivated with his first-time-Daddy sweetness, that they took lots of pictures of him like this:

...and I'm so glad they did!

I love you so much Sweet Pea!
Can't believe it's been 7 years!

Birth Story Part II

Since my daughter's 7th birthday is quickly approaching, I decided to share her BIRTH day with you all.

Birth Story Part I
I believe last night I left you with my hospital check in.  I was placed in triage for the first couple of hours...
first experience with those wonderful hospital gowns, mesh panties (the likes of which I had NEVER even imagined and would prefer to never see again :-)), and OH, let's not forget the test to see if my water had actually broken.  If you remember testing pH levels in high school chemistry, well that's pretty much what the nurse did to me.  Only she took this tiny little piece of litmus paper and pressed it up between my legs to test the "fluid." Cause you know, first time Moms could be totally wrong about these things.
I mean, maybe I'd just pee'd on myself.
She even announced the result: "Oh, yeah! Your water definitely broke, honey!"
Well, duh! I nearly drowned in my bathroom at home!
I don't remember too much about triage except how much modesty I STILL HAD at that point! Everytime anyone wanted to touch me or move me, I was very conscious of where that hospital gown was (and more importantly, where it was NOT)! I was also very aware of the curtain around my bed, that never seemed to be closed unless I told my hubby to do it.
Eventually we were moved to a labor and delivery room.
By this point, even though my contractions were sporadic, they were quite uncomfortable.  I am not sure that Miss Sweetpea had actually "dropped" before this whole water-breaking incident.  Either that or I am simply so short-waisted that it didn't matter.
If you don't what that means, just imagine this: the difference between the bottom of my bra-band and my belly-button is shorter than the span I can reach between the tip of my thumb and the tip of my middle finger.  Seriously- I just did it.  AND at this time, there is "junk" there that needs to go away.
Even with a baby in there, the actual space of my torso is very limited.
I literally felt like she might break one of my ribs! Everytime I had a contraction, it was right under my chest.  Not in my lower abdomen, not where I thought my uterus and cervix were located, not in my groin area - UNDER my heart and ribcage.
FUN TIMES! Let me tell you...
Hubby and I wanted to do this with no meds.  Or, at least, try it that way first.
When I came to the hospital and got settled, they checked me for dilation and I was maybe 2 cm (that was a stretch- no pun intended!).
So labor went on like this for quite some time.
Keep in mind - one hour of sleep for both me and the Hubs before we were so rudely awakened :-)
My contractions were coming about every two minutes but in varying intensity.  I was so tired after a few hours, that I would literally nod off between labor pains.  I would be on the edge almost falling over into sleep when WHAM! There's another one...it was the oddest way I have ever tried to sleep, and obviously I didn't really sleep.
EIGHT HOURS later...
I had only progressed by an inch or two.
Because they have this crazy rule about the baby being born within a certain amount of time from when your water breaks, they were getting anxious.  Me, I was too ignorant to know any better.  I should have voiced my opinion and waited.
Shoulda,  coulda,  woulda... you know what they say about hindsight.
The nurse and doctor on call told me they want to administer pitocin to speed up the progress.  They are concerned because I haven't been handling the contractions all that well so far and, of course, I'm exhausted already.  They recommended an epidural.
This was an agonizing decision for me.  While I wasn't necessarily opposed to an epidural, I knew hubby had concerns about the baby being born drugged up.
Finally he looked at me and told me to just do it, because there really a lot of reasonable options at this point.
So he AND a nurse had to hold me still while the anesthesiologist  (Omgosh- I just checked dictionary.com and I actually spelled that word right on the first try!) inserted the insanely huge torture device needle into my back.
After that I certainly felt better.  It was nice to watch the contraction on a monitor and not feel them at all.  Still didn't sleep though...although I have to tonight.
Check back for the rest of the story!

I only WISH I looked that put-together and calm :-)



  

Bad, Bad, Blogger!

So I've been a very bad blogger, lately!
But in my defense, I've also been very busy!
After thinking I could never find time to do it, I managed to walk at least 2 miles 4 days last week! For me that is huge since I have to push my son along in a stroller.  So that's sort of the only exercise I can really do with him "along for the ride." I'm not really ready to make a financial commitment to a gym and many do not have free childcare; not that my son would do well in the childcare room, but that's another post :-)

I've also been busy because Sweetpea's 7th birthday is coming up and we've been planning her party.  Poor thing was born so that her birthday will always be closest to Memorial Day weekend! It's been especially hard this year, because it seems no one is coming! We're still trying for responses, but I made invitations and reminders for her entire class and still only 4 of them have responded - 3 No's and 1 yes.  That's encouraging, huh?
So anyway, what's up with people not responding? Does no one know what RSVP means? Because in plain English (ok~ I know it's French, but you know what I mean!) - it means RESPOND! It doesn't say, regrets only; it doesn't say call us if you're coming (although, that would certainly be understood).
I actually printed "Please call even if you can't attend" on the reminders and only one additional call came in! So what's a Mom to do?

Anyway, all of this party planning has me reflecting on the birth of my first child and how it can't possibly have been 7 years ago! Then earlier today, I read MamaKat's blog post about her daughter's birthday and the birth experience that went along (you can check it out here).
So I was thinking I might share some of story about the day Sweetpea was born.

Let me first start by saying, in my family, I am unaware that any blood relative of mine has ever given birth on or before her due date.  As miserable as I was, I was totally prepared to go up to 2 weeks past my official due date.  And it was getting HOT! My original due date was the first week of June, so going  past that didn't seem incredibly exciting! I mean, I'd gained almost 50 pounds during my pregnancy; and considering my height (or lack there of) I was giving a whole new meaning to the concept of the pregnant waddle!

So imagine my surprise when 9 days BEFORE my due date, my water broke! And let me back-track for a minute...

While we usually went to bed early during the week, for some reason, Hubby and I stayed up until eleven p.m. this particular night. An hour later, having just barely gotten to sleep good, I had to get up to potty.  As soon as my feet hit the floor, GUSH!
All those people who told me I might "miss it" if/ when my water broke - ya'll were wrong!

[No offense to the guys reading this, but I'm warning you now, there may be some things coming you don't want to know! Don't say I didn't warn you...]

So I waddled my way to the bathroom, and managed to sit down on the toilet.  Hubby, who'd heard my gasp was immediately outside the bathroom door asking "what's wrong?"

An aside here - when I'm half-asleep, don't talk to me.  Not in the morning, not at night, not in the middle of the night when one of the kiddos has awakened for the 14th time! Just don't- I don't manage well!
So, at midnight after only one hour of sleep (if that) I wanted to say, "what do you think is wrong, you big dummy?" I managed to tell him what had happened and ask for new underwear :-) Which of course he had no idea where to find...yep, didn't know where my undergarment drawer was...not the slightest clue...and probably doesn't know today :-)

I managed to get myself dressed (in dry clothes) and come out of the bathroom.  We called the on-call Dr. in my practice and I tried to finish packing my hospital bag.  Mostly packed, but not completed, because after all, I had at least 9 days, right? It seemed a little more urgent at this point, and looking back, I didn't use 75% of what I packed!

The biggest thought running through my head at this point (besides pure fear)? I hadn't had the first contraction! So I was concerned and told Hubby so as we got our things together and got in the car.  We had a minimum 30 minute drive to the hospital and I did start to contract on the way, but I was convinced it was very bad that my water broke before contractions started. In the car, we timed contractions...length of time in between and how long they each were...boy were they random! All over the place! Some would come 2 minutes apart, some would be 7 or more minutes apart and ranged in duration from 2 to 3.5 minutes.

We made it to the hospital and got checked in.  I must say, even with the pre-registration I did, it took waaay too long! Imagine those poor ladies in serious labor upon arrival! I was uncomfortable enough...

So I got my first experience with triage...and wasn't that fun?! It seems there were no labor and delivery rooms available when I arrived, and they had to clean one.
REALLY? Like it was a hotel or something I was checking-in to!

(to be continued...)

  

not so warm and fuzzy...

So weddings are supposed to be inspirational, right?
All warm and fuzzy?
Is it terrible to say that lately weddings make me feel like crap?
It's terrible and it's selfish and I know both of those things, but I just can't move past it and not feel yucky.
I can't help remembering when me and my hubby were that happy.
When nothing else in the world mattered; no one could take that away from us no matter what.
Sometimes it was US against the world.

Then life happened; we've been married over 11 years, we've had 2 great kids.
But through the journey, we seem to have lost that passion for each other we had in the beginning. I have no doubt we still love each other.  BUT there's no time for US, unless we schedule it and pay a babysitter or convince the grandparents to take pity on us and keep the kids so we can go do something.  AND as silly as I know it is, I just can't see paying a babysitter more than it costs to go see a movie; it seems wasteful! If the point is to get out and do something  for the two of us, having to come home and pay a babysitter $40 or more is surely a buzz- kill!

But anyway, does anyone else feel that way? I mean, I am excited for the new couple at a wedding.  I rejoice with them in their new partnership and the vows they speak.
But I also feel convicted.
I promised those things too-11 years ago.
To love, honor, and obey.  To cherish, to take care of, in sickness and health and all that.
But have I done it?
Have I made my hubby feel honored?
Respected?
Cherished?

I think I know the answer, and I know I don't like it.
I feel bad.
It feels bad to realize I have broken those promises.  That I've broken those promises because sometimes I wasn't even trying, much less trying my best.
There have been times when I've thrown a child-like tantrum...for child-like reasons like not getting my way.
I've expected him to know what I was feeling and respond in what I thought was the appropriate way.  When he didn't, he got the silent treatment - or worse, me running off at the mouth.  Spewing forth my opinions and criticisms in a way that should have made him walk away long ago.  

Maybe it's the recent news about Maria Shriver and Arnold (not even gonna try to spell that) separating.  It's depressing!
I mean they were married for 25 years; why separate now?  What could be so bad now that they can't handle it together?

Maybe it's that I'm getting older; my relationship with my parents is changing.  I never knew how hard it would be to watch your parents age, much less watch the process of one of them getting seriously ill.
I'm not sure I'm ready to be a care-taker to either of my parents. Not that it's upon me at this very second, but the thought is; there in the back of my mind.  The questions: can I handle it when I do have to do it?
I don't live in the same city with my parents; how will that affect things? I never want to see my parents in any kind of home where someone else is responsible for taking care of them.

Who knows?
On a related note, maybe I started off last weekend's wedding event in the wrong mind-set.  I had a terrible time finding something to wear.  When it came down to it, I only have one dress in my closet that fits and I didn't really want to wear it.
I bought it last year and loved it; thought I looked pretty good in it even. Then I wore it to a conference where someone happened to snap a picture of my in it. I looked like a giant blue blob! I remember now why I don't wear sleeveless shirts or dresses, spaghetti straps, cap sleeves, or anything else with super short or non-existent sleeves.
But alas, I HAD to wear it to this wedding on Saturday.
I felt like an embarrassment - to myself, to my husband (whose co-workers were getting married and many more were guests at the wedding), to my children,  To MYSELF.
Even taking my pregnancies out of the equation, I am not now at my heaviest, but I'm close.  PLUS, after having two kids, the amount I weigh now LOOKS HEAVIER than the last time I weighed this amount. Everything shifts downward I guess, and it means I have to wear a size or two larger than I did the last time I weighed this much.
What really stinks is I've already lost 10 or 15 pounds in the last 3 months (I'm not much for scales, so I know I lost at least 10 and maybe more), but no one has noticed.  AND I still have at least 40 pounds to go to be at a healthy weight for my height. Realistically, I should probably lose 50 or more.
I need to do something and I need to do it now.  I need to lose a significant amount of weight (preferably very noticeable amounts in the next 2 months) in a healthy way.
I have already significantly reduced how much I eat by simply slowing down and waiting 10 minutes after I eat to determine if I am full or really need to eat any more.  My initial servings / plates of food are about the size of my fist.  And it really is enough if you eat slowly enough for your body to realize it's been fed.

I did do some weightlifting with my arms on Tuesday, then went and walked 2 miles.
But I just can't see myself ever being one of those people who works out everyday, much less for an hour or more everyday.  I just can't.  Honestly, I don't know how anyone has time for that!
My plate is full! I always go to bed with things undone, but still it's late when I get there!

So anyway, that's my rant for the day.  I was hoping it would help me feel better to get it off my chest...guess the jury is still out on that one.
And that, was my not so warm and fuzzy weekend :-(
I'm just a big fat ray of sunshine aren't I?

Late Night Biker?

The Prompts:

1.) A memorable high school job.
2.) That time you ran away from home.
3.) A boy you had a crush on…where is he now?
4.) Ode to your mother…write about a special memory you have of your mom in honor of Mother’s Day.
5.) 10 reasons why you could not be a real housewife from any county.

Okay...so, not that I'm some great writer or anything...but I fear writer's block this week!

I cannot even come close to any of these prompts EXCEPT #2...yep, that's right...I once ran away from home! Gasp! I know, my Mom would be mortified if she knew!

So anyway, when I was a little girl, I would talk often about running away.  There were many times when I actually packed, always in secret of course, and never once did I actually make it out the door (or window) with my doll stroller full of necessities (things like toys, books, snacks...no clothes! I mean what kid really needs clothes out in the real world?).

BUT when I was in jr. high, I actually did run away! It went down like this...

My Mom was out for the evening  with one of her sisters and I knew she'd be out late.  My Dad had passed out (not drunk, mind you! Just tired!) in the living room in one of the recliners hours earlier, tv still on.  I was pretty gutsy, if I do say so myself...I had to sneak through the kitchen and out the main house door in order to leave.  This meant essentially walking right behind where Dad was sleeping, out a creaky door, and pulling it shut behind me! Risky, but I pulled it off, heart pounding and threatening to explode and expose me!

I retrieved my bike from the shed and I was on my way.  Out into the night, riding down a pretty major two lane highway in my small town; not even considering, "what if Mom comes home this way and sees me riding AWAY from the direction of our house?" 

So I rode, and rode, and pedaled, and coasted, and pedaled some more.  Never before had I ridden this far at once! When I arrived, I was at least 7 miles from home and perhaps as far as 10 and it was about midnight.  Where was I? My boyfriend's house, of course! Did I mention I was all of 13?

Guess what?! He wasn't home; his Mom wasn't even home, but his step-Dad was... I was sort of loitering outside said boyfriend's window, open except for the screen, whispering his name (I didn't know he wasn't there)...hoping he would come outside.   Eventually I went to hide in the shadow of the large propane tank in the side yard.  Weighing my options...do I wait for him to come home?  Do I get back on the bike and go home? Can I even make it? What do I do if I get there and Mom's home? What if my parent's find out I'm gone?

Oh my GOSH! I am going to be in so much trouble if I get caught! This is not me! I'm the good kid...I don't do things like this...my brother does (sort of maybe the reason I left, but that's another story...).

Anyway, not too much pondering later,  boyfriend comes walking across the field from a friend's house.  His Mom pulls up in the driveway shortly after.   It was tough enough to explain to the boyfriend what I was doing there so late at night...much less fun to explain to his Mom! 

So, after some debating (I think they both thought I was NUTS), his Mom threw my bike in her trunk, we all climbed in the car and she drove me home.  Only, I was still petrified of getting caught! I wouldn't let her pull into my neighborhood, so she let me out, got my bike, and I assured her, I would ride straight to the house and go inside.  I begged her not to say anything to anyone and not to follow me into the neighborhood (on the off chance my parents saw the headlights and it busted me).

Off I go, back home, when headlights are coming up behind me.  Already in the shadows, I threw my bike down at the far edge of our yard and hauled hiney to the house!  Thinking it was my Mom, I nearly had a heart attack trying to figure out how to get back in! Turns out, it must have been the boyfriend's Mom because the car turned around and left.

I managed to sneak back in through the squeaky kitchen door, tip-toe to my room, get un-dressed, and climb back into my bed without my Dad ever waking.   As a matter of fact, I must have fallen asleep quickly because I don't even remember Mom coming home!

What can I say? The adventure wore me out! And that's the time, the only time, I actually ran away from home! (AND for the record, I am NOT proud of it!)

Short Sharings...

I have to be brief with my post today since other things are calling but I wanted to share something with you all.
I have been noticing a lot of "Mommy guilt" lately from myself as well as others; both my online friends and my RL (real life) friends have expressed views of inadequacy, wanting to quit, "what if my kids blame me for XYZ?" sort of things.
Well, what do you know? I found articles or posts on all of those things today!
So check out this if you think you may have missed your calling or God's purpose for your life.  We all feel that way sometimes, but rest assured, you are right where you are supposed to be!
If you've ever asked yourself why no one warned you how hard it was to be a Mommy, or you ever wanted to just turn in your notice and QUIT,  read this devotion.
And lastly, if you have ever felt guilty about a problem or struggle your child has had at any point in their life, check out this letter to a Mom.
I think it's awesome that across the miles, we can all still identify with other women, wives, and mothers and provide support and comfort.  If you like what you read, be sure to pass it along to a girlfriend ~ you never know when it just may be what she needed that day!
Growing in Grace,
Leslie

Gratitude List #35 - #45

This is really hard!
If you've never tried it before, please join me by starting your own list.

There is SO much I'm grateful for but have never tried to list before...

So if you missed the beginning of this or the meaning or the why or any of that,
you can read about it here and here...

35.) forgiveness
36.) grace ~ lots of it, thank the Lord!
37.) my God is the God of second chances
38.) I'm not perfect and I don't have to be because Jesus was
39.) there are a lot of people who love me
40.) people who love me when I really don't deserve it
41.) therapeutic tears
42.) tears of joy
43.) feeling good about yourself
44.) a sense of accomplishment (it's the best feeling!)
45.) feeling like you've made a difference to someone else

Monday Musings...

Sooo...
one of these reasons I started this blog was to be able to express my thoughts in a healthy way ~ ANONYMOUSLY.
Well, now that I've told many of my friends and a few family members about the blog, I'm suddenly scared.  I find myself writing posts in my head before I can get them to paper or screen, but then promptly re-writing them.
What if I say the wrong thing?  What if I offend a friend or family member? What if they judge me harshly for my feelings, or worse yet, what if they avoid me because they know who I really am now?
NOT someone who is brave and inspirational to others, has it all  mostly together, knows what's she's doing and doesn't really care what anyone else thinks.  INSTEAD, someone who most days doesn't feel qualified to do my job life.  Walking around most days feeling like a scared little girl...feeling like a fraud.
Does it make you fake because you try to be what you want to be, but aren't?
You know, "fake it 'til you make it" sort of thing?
I completely agree that we all have faults that we should accept as part of ourselves, but is there really any reason not to try and better ourselves? I mean, I really need to be more organized; my life is too full for disorganization.  Things just operate more efficiently when everything has a place and is regularly in that place rather than buried under a pile of mail on the dining room table somewhere it shouldn't be.
Right?

You know one thing I'd like to improve on is what kind of spouse I am; cause I don't think I'm very good.
You see, I'm one of those NEEDY people.  I really need to feel loved and appreciated in order to reflect it back to the people I love.  I don't purposely withhold love, but gosh, when I feel unappreciated it is seriously difficult be loving.  I don't want to be that way; it's just how it is, but I am trying to change.
I want to be the wife that just exudes love, gratitude, and pride for my husband all the time.  Because I do feel those things for him, they just aren't on the surface all the time anymore.
Life happened, we had kids, we got busy, and quite honestly, most days I feel like two ships passing in the night.
Why did no one ever tell us it would be like this? That a marriage is so much work?
I couldn't help but ponder all this as I watched the Royal wedding footage again over the weekend - and cried.  Yes, I cry at weddings!
Partially because it's so sweet to witness vows and the union of the two.  Two, becoming one.  Because I believe that in God's eyes, that's what marriage is.
But, (I think) I also cry a little because they have no idea what's in store for them! Both the good and the not so good.  There are lots of awesome moments in starting a new life together, having kids, etc., but there is also lots of compromise involved.
I have to say, I take issue with William not wearing a ring, but also with Cate not saying "to obey" in her vows.  God never meant "to obey" to mean the husband Rules Over the wife; so many people completely misconstrue the Biblical meaning of submission (but that's another post:-) ).
I also think even us "commoners" put way too much into the wedding and not nearly enough into the marriage.  Weddings have turned into huge parties and celebrations with a distorted focus.
It certainly should be a celebration, but isn't the union of these two, the lifetime commitment of love and togetherness, the real point?
I really believe all couples should go through a pre-marital course before getting married.  You really should have to talk about things like having kids, how to discipline them, your standard of living, travel and vacationing, as well as general finance issues.  It really can save a lot of time and tears later if you discuss it before the wedding.
It might not prevent all marriages from splitting up, but it might keep some from happening in the first place!

So what do you think?
Did you watch the royal wedding? Have an opinion about if they'll stay together or not?

What's your mind mulling over this Monday?