...Marriage

A friend asked me once "if something happened to Jeremy, would you get married again?"

Without hesitation, my answer was "No.  I may live with someone but, I'll never get married again."

She was stunned.  "You don't like being married?  Living with someone is the same thing as being married."

Uh-huh.  Sure.  You can believe that.  I know differently. 

Marriage is the hardest thing I have ever done in my life.  I have buried both of my parents, my sister, my dad was sick - y'all my life was a bitch!   Still is.  And yes, marriage is the hardest thing I have ever done!

I didn't know 13 years ago what it meant when I stood on that white sandy beach and promised that guy "for better, for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, til death do we part".  I only knew we were married.  I had no idea exactly what that meant. I knew I promised him forever and I promised God.  I'm not one to give up on a promise...

Then came all the bumps.  The house that had more problems than we had money, the miscarriages - so many that I'd eventually lose count, an adoption, losing my mother and every single little thing (and big thing) in between.  We fought.  We fought a lot.  Oh, and more than a lot.  And then we fought some more.  I blamed me, I blamed him, he blamed him and I'm sure he blamed me.  We yelled, we cried.  It was hard.  And we fought even more.

We got help.  We went to a counselor together. I went to one alone.  He went to one alone. I saw another one alone. It was hard. 

We had a lot of fun together.  As a couple and as a family.  We took a few trips, made a lot of memories.  Enjoyed our time together.  That part wasn't so hard.

At the end of the day, my husband is my best friend.  He knows all of my secrets, all of my goals and all of my dreams.  He knows them because he shares in them.  They're his too.  We built them together.  He wants what I want.  I want what he wants.  All of the talking, all of the fighting, all of the gains, all of the fighting and every single one of the losses got us here.  Us.  Together. 

We don't often do things apart.  We have great friends, friends we may not see often, yet when we do, it's like we never left them.  We don't have people in our relationship that aren't healthy for our marriage. We don't go out drinking in bars without the other.  It's not a trust thing, it's a respect thing.  Respect for each other, our family and mostly respect for our marriage.  This is our investment.  We nurture it, we honor it, we protect it.  We don't allow anything in that could destroy it.

Trust.  Trust is big.  I trust him. I trust him with my life.  I trust him with my child. I believe him and I believe in him.  

I love my husband - completely.  I love his smile, his heart, and all of his goofy quirks (like who the hell takes the middle bun out of a Big Mac and eats it?  By itself?).  I couldn't imagine a moment of this life without him.   I love being married. I love being married to him.

I hope he enjoys being married to me.

I wouldn't invest in someone this way again.  Not only because it's hard, I've never taken the easy road in anything, ever but, because I don't believe there is anyone else that is worth the time, the fight, the energy, to make it work.  Not like this.

Thanks Jeremy.  Thank you for loving me at my best and at my worst.  Thanks for picking me up, and sometimes letting me down. Thanks for holding my hand, for holding me back and for letting me soar.  Thank you for all of the ups, downs, lefts and rights, all of the forwards and even some of the backwards. At the end of every single day, I'm still glad it was you!

Being #6

I was always content to be #6.  "The Baby".  When I was little, I loved tagging along with my older sisters and my brother, never realizing maybe they didn't - or their significant others didn't - want me along. Or thought I was a brat.  I didn't try to be.  You see, my siblings were my everything, I wanted to keep them just for me.

As I got older, they married and started their own families, nephews and nieces came along and I was so excited when each one of them were born.  They're such amazing kids and I am terrifically proud of each one  of them.  So much so that when my siblings call me by their daughters names (and each one of them does this) I am NEVER offended and never hurt for I know their children are very special to them. In fact, I'm almost honored.

As I'm getting older, they are too.  They have a decade up on me - some have close to two decades!  With the age difference, it's becoming a reality that...I... I will be the last one left.  Alone.   The only one of us to bury my parents as well as my 5 siblings.  I'm the one who will be left behind, again.  One day, it'll just be me. No one to remember the rest with.  

Sometimes I'm sad that I'll be alone.  Sometimes I'm even a little angry.  It's not  fair but, then again, what is fair?  Life isn't fair.   Car accidents aren't fair.  Multiple Sclerosis is not fair.  Dementia is not fair.  Cancer is not fair.  Life.  The thing about life is that it goes on. Life goes on.  Every. Single. Time.  It does not stop and there are no breaks. Not for #1.  Not for #6.  Not for any in between.

2015: The Year We Fixed...The Backyard

We moved into this house in December of 2001.  We had a 4 foot, white picket fence surrounding our entire yard.  The fence was in rough shape after that first winter and was always in our list to replace but, then came the roof, a new furnace, infertility, adoption, a kid, a dog and every single other thing in between

Last summer, 2014, what 12 years later? We finally replied that fence!

Wow!

Then there was the issue of that patio.  We've all tripped on it.  I stepped in the same hole twice and about snapped my ankle. And if you have ever ventured into our backyard, you have heard one of us say, "Watch your step!"

So, we had it dug out...

I came home today, turned to look, and there is, my beautiful, private backyard!

Walk A Mile

I've been seeing a psychologist.  Whew!  That's out there.

I've been seeing her for a few months now.  I like her.  She's very different than any therapist I have met thus far and it helps. 

I've told you my secret. But, it's not that easy.  

My Aunt said something in response to a social media post and well, she got me thinking.  My Uncle Butch, he was a good man, had a big heart, like most of the Nolff clan but, I was thinking of the hardships he had, the things he went through and the price his soul paid.  Like me, Butch was the youngest of a big family - 11 actually and he was in the military as most men were at that time.  The first thing I remember about him was that when his mother died, she had run down to the neighbors as Butch had called home, either from Vietnam or from basic training.  She had a heart attack and died while she was gone to answer the phone.  Could you imagine calling your mother and she died on her way to you?

As if that wasn't enough for a man to carry, as if the horrors of fighting in the Vietnam war weren't enough, my Uncle Dan, Butch's nephew (they were only 4 years apart) was shot and killed at his post.  Butch was military escort and brought his friend, his nephew home to his family and mourned the loss along the way.  He stood guard for Dan that whole time, took the responsibility to watch over his nephew one last time. 

We as a society tend to only look at what we see on the surface of a man (woman), we don't look at him and think "oh, I wonder what happened to them to make them this way.  I wonder what he's been through..."

We never think about why we are the way we are, what labels we put on ourselves or allow others to put on us, nor do we think about the effort it takes to live up to or defend ourselves from these "standards". 

When I stood at my mother's/father's/sister's graves back in October and I said I had cried but not for the loss of my mother, it's true, I didn't cry for her, I cried for the loss of myself, the parts of me buried with each one of them.  In some ways I also cried knowing I now had another label, more reaction judgement from others and yet one more thing to endure. Some think that now my parents are both gone, that I need substitute parents and they are the perfect people to fill this role.  Thank you for your concern but, mine taught me well, I don't need replacements, I think I've endured enough.

The weight of these labels is immense, immeasurable and I knew I was cracking under them all.  Outspoken, bitchy, selfish, spoiled, competitive, bossy, blah, blah, blah!  I knew it was too much pressure to be what everyone one said I was (or wasn't) to be the things I knew I was or was not. I got help.

I am learning to take people for who they are, to not pass judgment on them or to apply labels to them, to simply trust my instincts to lead me to decide who I need or don't need.  I'm learning who I am, how to be me, and how to shake off all the junk they're sticking on me. I know I'm not everyone's cup of tea and that's ok. It's not about being a cup of tea, it's about finding those who aren't afraid to ask for the coffee.  I'm with them!

The One Where The Wife Resigns

If you asked me about my job 10 months ago, I would have told you I love what I do, I'm excited for the change and really ready to see what this new company had to offer.  I would have meant what I said with all of my heart.  It was true.  Then. 

15 of my 18 years with my company, I had done that job and I loved it.  The carving out of my department for sale wasn't ideal but, I had two choices, go somewhere else or go with the sale, I chose the sale.

New company was ok. A little slow starting but, no real complaints.  As more time passed, my gut, my instincts kept telling me it wasn't going to last.  They wouldn't remain in this location.  They'd pull out after their lease was up.  I always planned to stay.  I joked I'd be the last one out, the one shutting off the lights.  I never in a million years thought I would apply for another job, go to an interview - my first in almost 19 years!  I never thought I'd get a call offering me the position.  Offering me the first job I had applied for in almost TWO decades but, I did!

I resigned from New Company the next morning. 41 years old and I had never resigned from a job. 

A whirlwind of paperwork, emails flying back and forth, a drug test (laugh it up those of you who know how truly vanilla I am!), saying goodbye and leaving all of my responsibility behind was absolutely foreign to me and I was nervous!

I did it. I started over.   

As it turns out, my gut was right, the second day of my new job back with Old Company, New Company announced they were closing this location and after December they'd be gone.  I guess I won't be the one to shut the lights off after all.  I'm sad for the friends I left behind though I'm curious who will be the one turn out the lights and thankful it won't be me!

Here's to the next chapter!

Routines

As people, as most responsible people, we have our routines.  Things we do in order to be sure other things get done or done in the most common sense approach.  At times, we have a wrench thrown into our routine and sometimes it's a minor hiccup, sometimes it's a big bump.  I find most often how I react to it, determines the impact.

I am a people watcher and with an fairly long commute and I often find myself watching cars wondering if these people are going about their normal routines, having a hiccup or fixing the bumps.   There are a few vehicles I have seen many times over the years and I'm certain they are routine commuters like me.  I think of this woman I saw once, driving erratically - tailgating, speeding, etc.  - she just FLEW by me.  I passed her later, she had pulled over and was on the passenger side of her car, helping a man who was violently ill.  Obviously not routine.

How many times in our lives do we pass people on the road or on the street?  How many times do we think of them or their routine?  If they're going through  the bumps or the hiccups or if everything is ok.  I wonder if we can help.  I try not to be so absorbed in my own routine not to notice.

Imagine what we could do if we all tried a little harder to be kind, to just smile.  Try it, you just might like it. 

The One Where the Husband Resigned

Can you tell we have been binge watching the TV show Friends?

As most of you know, our Big Daddy resigned from his restaurant manager job a few weeks before Thanksgiving.  This was not in our plans - long or short term. It was not on our schedule, nor was it even a remote thought.  In fact, Jeremy was shocked I had even spoken the words "maybe it's time to just resign".

I can't share with you the discussions we had or the details behind them but, I can tell you there were many days he went to work at 4:00PM and didn't get home until after 5:30AM.  Oftentimes he'd drive someone home who didn't have a vehicle or they were just so busy it took longer to clean up.  As I was saying, he'd come home at 5AM, sleep for 2 hours, get up with Jacob and I to get us to work and school, then try to sleep.  On top of all this he had conference calls to attend, not to mention the texts, emails and phone calls all the day long only to go back into the store for the 4PM shift.  On these days, he would only see Jacob and I for the hour in the morning.  I haven't even touched on working the weekends, the late night cleaning parties, the lack of competent people, the call-ins, the no-shows, or the general public complaining about every single teeny tiny thing.  Oh, there is so much, I could go on and on!

When I said "maybe it's just time to resign", I had all of these things (and more) on my mind. I was the married single parent, always waiting at home for the last nine years. I was the one going and doing it all, everything - alone.  We missed so many family functions, holidays and so much family time.  I knew in my heart it was time for him to go.

We wrote his resignation letter and sent it in on Friday morning.  That was it.  It was all over.  15 years and his restaurant career was done.  Sadly with little to show for it besides a terribly sore hip, bruised pride, and pure exhaustion.  The next few days/weeks, I watched this new man emerge from my husband's body.  This man was a little more patient, with a touch of extra kindness and he had some pep in his step.  I hadn't seen this side of him in a long time.  I had missed him.  I had forgotten.

Jeremy was home for the holidays for the first time ever.  In fact, all total he was at home for almost 2 months.  Those 2 months made enormous little changes in our home, our family and our marriage.  He's finally caught up on his 9 years of never getting enough sleep!  He's home in the evenings and on the weekends with us and we can function as one family, together. Not as 2 single parents fighting for time together and apart.

Big Daddy has started a new job. It's different, it's not retail, it's less hours and less pay of course but, his days of working 18 hour days are done.  We're planning camp outs in the backyard, fires in our fire pit and hopefully some late night swimming in our pool.  I'm hoping for a little new porch sitting and just watching the world go by...WITH my husband (for a change).

It's not where we planned to be at this stage of life but obviously, planned or not, where we needed to be.