THIS IS IT!
This, right here, what you’re reading right this very second, is my 200th post!
Now, my plan was to do a super awesome giveaway for my 200th post. I am still planning on doing a super awesome giveaway, but it’s going to be a surprise (to you and me both) when that happens. Hopefully it will be soon, because it’s a good one!
But I wanted to do something special for my 200th post. Something different.
So instead of doing a giveaway…
I’m going away.
From here on out, you will find Much More Than Mommy right here. If you’re a good Southern Baptist like me and fear change, calm down, it’s not that much different. Close your eyes, take a deep breath, and click the link. You can do it.
I know, I know, it’s a pain. You have to update your reader now. Le sigh. It’ll be okay. It’s not near as much as what I had to do to make this happen, trust me. (Well, what I and the other people who bullied me strongly suggested thoughtfully encouraged me to move did to make it happen.)
Big Sister is in school, and positive reinforcement abounds there. She has told me about getting her name on the “I Noticed Board”. What exactly gets your name on the board? Doing just what you’re supposed to be doing — paying attention and listening, sitting quietly, etc. I think she’s even gotten trips to the treasure box for things like that.
In the past I wondered if it was such a good idea to make a big ol’ fuss about people doing just what they ought to be. Then I started just doing things that I was supposed to be doing, and I kind of liked it when I got a few pats on the back now and then. It helps! And you know what else? The Bible tells me so.
Therefore encourage one another and build each other up, just as in fact you are doing. (1 Thessalonians 5:11)
But encourage one another daily, as long as it is called today, so that none of you may be hardened by sin’s deceitfulness. (Hebrews 3:13)
I read that second verse and I got to thinking about sin’s deceitfulness. Maybe sometimes we think that what we’re doing doesn’t matter. That the whole idea behind It’s A Wonderful Life is a wonderful lie. We get to thinking, The world would still spin if I wasn’t here.
And it would.
But it would not be the same. Not if any one of us was not around.
And we should tell each other that.
Let’s go somewhere together, you and I…
Let’s go to a football game. Us and our husbands, and a few other couples, mostly in our 30s. Maybe it’s our alma mater or something. We get to the game, and we are cheering for our team, DE-FENSE <clap><clap>, all that jazz. In between plays, the cheerleaders come out and our husbands take notice. They notice one in particular. They comment on her. She’s hot! Look at those toned legs! Look at that tight tummy when she raises her arms! Mm-mmm!
Oh wait… Did I forget to mention that this is a high school football game?
… What? Is that inappropriate?
Ohhh, I see. And it would also be inappropriate if we women at the game were cheering for #32 on the team? Wearing his number on our shirts, maybe with his picture? Talking about how hot he is? And ohmygosh don’t even get us started on his abs?
Yeah. He’s 17. He’s the same age as the kid who bagged your groceries the other day. The same age as your babysitter’s boyfriend. And just 4 years ago, he was…
Sharkboy. And 13-years-old.
Britney Spears wasn’t quite 18 when this cover came out in the spring of 1999. If our husbands were gazing at pictures like this of 17-year-old girls, would we be appalled?
More than likely, YES.
So why is it different for a 30-something woman to be staring dreamily at a picture of Taylor Lautner with his shirt off?
If a female teacher was caught with pictures like that of a 17-year-old male student, she’d be fired.
If a male teacher was caught with pictures like that of a 17-year-old female student, we’d want him castrated.
Just food for thought.
Actually, that should be Dear Male Celebrities Who Can’t Keep It In Their Pants. Please allow me to offer you some tips on how to properly have an affair.
First, if you’re going to send text messages, get another phone. Don’t send it from your own. Really now. In this day and age, you don’t know better? You can’t afford another line? Puh-lease. Don’t you have personal assistants? Get one of them to run right on down to AT&T. Or T-Mobile. Whoever wants you to promote them. Have the assistant put the phone in their name, say it’s just easier that way. Then text all you want. Or do that sexting thing. Whatever. Just don’t use your own phone. (And don’t even get me started on e-mails.)
Secondly, before you have a second clandestine rendezvous with your new gal pal, do a little research. Google is your friend. If you’re a hot shot actor, athlete or politician, there’s a chance she might be in it for something other than the delight of your company. Find out if she’s been on a reality show before. If she has, take a step back, and wonder if she could possibly someday decide to use the details of your relationship to further herself. It’s shocking, I know. The very thought that someone could be using you to add to her fifteen minutes of fame. The horror.
Third, don’t forget that cameras will follow you everywhere. It doesn’t have to be paparazzi, all it takes is one lone grainy image put on a MySpace or Facebook, and you’re busted. Duh.
And finally, when you get caught, because you will get caught, don’t act all shocked that the press is hounding you. If not for the press, news of all the wonderful things you’ve done before this little mishap and all your prior achievements wouldn’t have made the rounds. What makes you think they’re going to turn a blind eye or a deaf ear to the little hottie that was worth risking your marriage and potentially your career over? It doesn’t matter that she’s only doing it for the publicity, it’s still newsworthy, and you should know that by now. (Just like she should know that the absence of a wedding band on a married man does not make him any less married.)
If all of these tips seem like too much of a challenge for you, I offer this suggestion:
KEEP IT IN YOUR PANTS.
Go back home to your wife. Counseling is probably cheaper than a $4 million ring. It’s GOT to be cheaper than divorce, especially when you consider the cheapest settlement on the Top 10 list is $10 million.
Hope that helps!
This post is rated PG-13. You’ve been warned.
I would like to hear your thoughts about a wife’s relationship with her husband when she just doesn’t “feel” like a wife. What is a wife to do when she’s too tired (with the kids and housework), too worried (about money), and too stressed (with life in general) to be a good wife? There are times I just don’t *want* to be affectionate. What is there to do when I don’t feel like having sex, don’t feel like listening about his day, or feel like indulging his choices for the evening TV program? I love my husband but there are times when I just don’t feel like being a wife. I would like to hear your perspective on that sort of situation.
Why does sex sometimes feel like a chore?
The first question there actually came when I asked for suggestions for my 100th post. The second question was among those topics suggested to get to my 200th.
The truth is, I had no idea how to answer the first question when it came around. Because I hadn’t figured out how tough it was to be the total package. I’m not saying I am totally the total package, but I am aspiring to be. I’ll tell you what, it ain’t easy trying to be Super Mom, Super Wife and Super Sexy.
And it wasn’t until we moved into the house that I GOT IT. Before the house, if I didn’t feel like doing stuff around the house, I just didn’t do them. If I didn’t feel like listening to The Husband tell me about his work, his team(s), his stuff in general, I think I busied myself elsewhere. But I’m not exactly sure what I busied myself doing, because it certainly wasn’t housework most of the time. I mean, yes, I was working on that, but it was baby steps.
Then we moved here. All of a sudden, laundry was getting washed and put away without The Husband ever having to touch it. The Dyson (you have to call it that, The Dyson, because it’s more than just a vacuum) was being used at least once a week — by me, not The Husband. Dishes were done. By me. Lunches were made. By me. Dinner was cooked. BY ME!!
Not to mention, both girls were in some kind of school. I’m dropping off, I’m picking up. I’m making sure books are read and clothes are out for the next morning. I’m marking calendars and making sure that everyone knows when the next school or church performance is.
I get tired, y’all.
And sometimes when the time rolls around that I know The Husband is on his way home, I daydream about running into the bathroom and jumping in that fabulous tub. Then getting in my robe and laying on the bed and reading. Then turning off the light and going to bed. Or getting through the nightly routine of dinner, bath and bed for the girls and then just crashing.
Not talking. Not dealing. Not being Mommy. Not being Wife. Not being much more of anything.
So what happens when those moments come and I just don’t want to deal? (And remember, these are my thoughts, just mine. I am not a theological scholar, nor am I an expert on marriage, women, etc. I’m barely an expert on myself. I can only tell you what I do.)
When I get to my lowest point and I cannot fathom putting another load of laundry away when I know that in a matter of days I will be putting some of the same clothes right back in the washing machine, or preparing a meal that will be met with wrinkled noses from two girls who inherited my picky nature, or doing any of the other things that women do with or without kids that is generally unappreciated. When I get there, I have to go to the passage in the Bible that I dread the most.
Oh, the Proverbs 31 Woman, how I often loathe her. I realize, though, that those verses offer me something to work towards — being a wife of noble character. Nowhere in there does it say, “She doth see that the Dolphins are down this year and extends her arms to comfort her husband” or “She naggeth not when the garbage hath not been delivered henceforth to the far reaches of the driveway,” but I’m pretty sure each of us can read those verses and realize what we need to work on, or add our own acts of nobility for our family. For that woman, it was making linen garments, selling them, then using her earnings to plant a vineyard. For me and my house, as I’ve said before, love is never having to say, “Babe, I’m almost out of shorts.”
So I guess when I get to my low points of just not feeling up to it, I have to build a bridge and get over it. I’m also very blessed,though to have a husband who doesn’t pitch a fit or whine when I plan or take part in a girls’ night now and then. And sometimes, when I really need it, I ask for a night “off” inside the house. “Baby, I just need to take 30 minutes.” Sure, there are times I manage to get 17 minutes and 32 seconds of alone time before a little one is walking through the bedroom door — but isn’t that just life?
The Husband’s always going to be around, and sometimes we are both in the house each doing our own thing. It happens, and it’s okay. But if he needs me to listen to him vent, even if it’s about something that I don’t get, I want to be there for him. I want to be the one he feels like he can talk to about anything. So even if I could care less what impact Ronnie Brown’s injury will have on the season, I’ll probably listen.
But sometimes he doesn’t want to talk either. Sometimes you can both go through the routine of after-work activities. Dinner. Dishes. A little TV. Maybe you’re reading in the other room. Maybe you haven’t said two words to each other, just because you’ve been off in a daze.
Then it’s time for bed, and all of a sudden he’s alert as ever and he’s all up in your Kool Aid. (I actually have no idea what that means, and I’m scared to look it up. But it sounds like it works there.) Anyway, there he is.
And you’re tired. I don’t care if you have kids or not, being a woman is exhausting. Let’s say you’ve been working all day, then you get done with that and have to be Susie Homemaker, and then all you want is a little downtime, and there he is and there is nothing down about him!
But you’re still tired. And it can feel like a chore.
I. So. Get. That.
Without kids, or with kids that have been clamoring for your attention all day. You just want him to keep his hands and other body parts to himself.
So what do I do when I feel that way?
Build a bridge and get over… him.
I remember hearing friends talk once about, I think, a Beth Moore Bible study. I remember them talking about a prayer she mentioned — “Lord, let me thrill at his touch.” Whether it’s from Beth Moore or not, I have prayed that prayer. One time, The Husband was out of town for work for a few days. I was pregnant with our second, it was summer so Big Sister was out of school, and I was babysitting an infant and also watching a 7 or 8-year-old girl. By the time he got home, I was TIRED. I was so excited to see him, yes, but my body was definitely not eagerly anticipating a proper welcome home reception.
Lord, let me thrill at his touch.
For me, even if I start out a little less enthused about things than him… It doesn’t take too long for me to get enthused. It doesn’t take too long for me to remember that sex with my husband is a gift. Then it doesn’t take me too long to forget every other thing I had stressed about that had made me want to not be with The Husband.
And usually, all of that works for me.
I’m way, way far from perfect and sometimes I could be classified as The Worst Wife Ever when it comes to fulfilling all, or even just some, of my various roles, but that’s how I cope, how I deal, and how I feel I’m doing the best I can with what I’ve got!
- It’s hard to admit it, but there really isn’t that much more to you than mommy.
- You’re okay with that most of the time.
- Sometimes, though, you cling to those things that give you a sense of purpose outside of mommyhood a little too tightly.
- Then, sometimes, if one of those things is removed, it gets to you too much.
- Build a bridge, and get over it.
- The polar bears you just saw in the Narnia movie made you miss Lost a little bit.
- The commercials for Charlie and the Chocolate Factory made you think of Oompa Loompas.
- You will now have nightmares.
- It just occurred to you that The White Witch is wearing Aslan’s mane in the battle.
- And that James McAvoy is Mr. Tumnus.
- You are slow.
- You also just got why Kim has mentioned WD40 a couple of times.
- You are really, really slow.
- Blame it on the tryptophan.