Humorous Hubris

If it's true what they say-  that opposites attract, then Husband and I are one of the exceptions to that rule. We really aren't all that different from each other.

In the beginning as our long distance friendship budded into a long distance relationship, we spent hours nightly on the phone talking about our similar taste in music, movies, and people in general. We fancied all the same things. More importantly we fancied each other.

 This was it. He was my person. I knew it very early on. He was funny! Better yet, he thought I was funny, which made for a pretty good time. We laughed a LOT. And as I mentioned *here*, when it comes to other people, there are very few characteristics I appreciate more than a ready wit. He was clever and kind and good, and for some reason he wanted me. On top of all of that, he turned out to be possibly my only equal in remembering and appreciating movie quotes. The larger point there, being that he seemed to GET me.

Oh, I loved him almost instantly.  

 

He made grand romantic gestures. He stood outside my bedroom window with a boombox on his shoulder, playing that song- our song. (Thank you John Cusack for the inspiration.)
 After only one month of quickly growing closer despite the miles between us, he packed up his life and moved to Oregon, so we could be close in the geographical sense as well.
 He pursued me. I liked this.  Four months later we were engaged and six months after that we were married.

Clearly we are both amused by something here...although what, I can't be sure.

 Fast forward 10 years and here we are, still in love and still laughing. And now there are two tinies in the mix, which means we are riding that rollercoaster of joy and triumph, heartache and fear, bafflement and wonder. Having children seems to open up chambers of the heart that one never even knew existed.

 

It requires quite a bit of give and take for a marriage to be successful, and in our ten years as Mister and Missus we have become rather familiar with this idea of compromise. In fact, we get along quite well.  But throughout all the years, there seems to be one prevailing theme in our union.

Humorous Hubris.

We both think we are the "funny one" of the couple.
We can agree on where to live, how many children to have, where to eat, what movie to rent, -you name it. But when it comes to our perceived right to the title of "Funniest", neither one of us can seem to acquiesce.

Who cares, you might say? What's the big deal anyway? Can't we both be funny? The answer is yes, of course... just not EQUALLY funny. It completely messes with the natural balance of things! In a world full of chaos, shouldn't we be able to know exactly who we are, at least within our couplings?
I mostly jest, but in all truthfulness, Husband and I both staunchly believe we are slightly funnier than the other.

I often tease him that he's lost his edge. As a financial advisor and investment banker, he spends a good portion of his day sitting across from elderly folk who tend to be very serious when it comes to talk about their money. So it's not his fault, really. It's simply not an atmosphere conducive to an ironic sense of humor.
 Don't get me wrong- he's a big hit with that crowd. They love him. Especially the older gals, who are always telling him what a clever darling he is. (Sorry ladies, he's taken.)
I suppose he could say the same of me- that I've lost my edge, considering my main audience are our 3 and 6 year old children who tend to find my satirical commentary throughout the day...underwhelming to say the least.

The good news is, it keeps us both on our toes. On some level we are still trying to impress each other. We are both people who love to laugh, and who can find the humor in almost any situation, but
I daresay the highest level of satisfaction comes from getting a real and spontaneous laugh out of the other. If I can make HIM laugh, and laugh hard, then that is (insert Andy Samberg's voice impersonating Nicholas Cage) "high praise".

I realize in writing this I risk making us both sound like a couple of big jerks, but I don't think we are?  We may suffer from humorous hubris, or we may just be a good match. Either way, I like him and I'm keeping him.

 



Postcards From Paradise

Husband and  I were lucky enough to spend the last glorious week in the Bahamas, on the aptly named Paradise Island. And I have to say, it lived up to its name. It was gorgeous. White sand beaches, the brightest, clearest, turquoise water that just so happened to be the perfect temperature. Amazing food (shocker that that made it at the top of the list, right?). Sunshine. Laughter. Romance. Fun. Sleep. Repeat.
As I explained HERE, this is pretty much a big fat deal to us. Travel is something we both have always wanted to do, but have not always had the time/money/gumption to just go ahead and do. Not very much at least, especially since having kids.  Husband lived in Europe for a year before we dated and has always remembered that time in his life with such fondness that it always gives me a small pang of regret to not have shared in those memories with him. So, Europe aside, we have been beyond thrilled to have earned two vacations (part of Husbands compensation at work) in two years now. As we boarded our plane I thought about how Im a pretty big fan of Edward Jones these days. In fact, if ol Teddy Jones wouldve been there, I might have been obliged to give him a big frencher for coming up with the brilliant idea of this all-expense-paid vacation business! Genius, if you ask me.

So I could go on and on about how wonderful and peaceful and lovely the whole week was and how grateful I am to have had time alone with Husband to just enjoy his company and recharge my batteries. But I thought it'd be a little more fun to sum it up in a little something I like to call  "Akward and Awesome, Bahamian Edition."

AKWARD: Husband and I lying in the shallow water looking for seashells for Bigger One, when a small but ferocious fish out of nowhere bites him directly on the nipple. Which was so funny it made it also a little bit awesome.

AWESOME:  Well, the whole bit.

Taking in the delightfully unfamiliar scenery.

Celebrating being married for 9 years to the man I love. (Awe. Look at him. Isnt he cute?)

Swimming with the dolphins.

Napping under palm trees.

Afternoons spent reading on the beach. (Outlander, no less. Husband by my side, waves in the background, and James Fraser on the page? Me likey.)  Followed by leisurely, candlit dinners that came in courses and lasted for two hours. Bliss.

Ahh Yeeeah

If my life were a movie, this would be the part where the music reaches a crescendo, accompanied by a joyous slow-mo reel. Naturally, there's a flash mob as well, along with confetti and a small marching band playing Journey's 'Dont Stop Believing'. (Dontcha just love Journey?!)

We got it! We got our trip! Cliffhanger, Shmiffhanger. In the end, justice was served up on a platter, and under the silver lid was two tickets to the Bahamas. Me likey. For a second I was bummed that we were not able to sign up in time for any of the Europe trips. They filled up first, naturally. But then I realized that not knowing which vacation to choose is a luxury problem and that it's totally bratty to be anything less than thrilled. Which I genuinely am. We get to go to Paradise Island, Bahamas! An all expense paid, child-free- anniversary trip to the Bahamas! How rad is THAT?  "Paradise Island" sounds like it will suit me quite nicely.
We just nailed it down today and Im still semi- beside myself. We just dont DO this kind of thing normally. Other than the last trip we earned last year, Husband and I hadnt been a proper vacation since our honeymoon 8 years ago.  And while it gives me a stomach ache to leave my kids for a whole week, it was absolutely blissful. It was one of those things where you dont know how badly you need to relax until you actually do fully relax. I THOUGHT I was relaxed on the first day. But then by the second day I quit tensing every time I heard a kid whining or needing something because I remembered that it wasnt MY kid. Then by the third day I started laughing and really enjoying myself. And somewhere around the 4th day Husband and I remembered that THIS was what it feels like to really connect and enjoy each other's company with no distractions.

Maybe this time it wont take me 3 whole days to decompress. Im still new to this vacation business, after all. August is still a few months away but that's okay. Its good to have something to look forward to. Now about dusting off my bikinis....Blurg. Not ready for that yet. Have you seen those commercials for the pajama jeans? (Im laughing really hard right now, please tell me you all have seen that commercial?) Maybe they make bikini jeans. LOL. Nah, bad plan. I have two words for how I would look in that contraption: STUFFED SAUSAGE. Maybe a few more months is a good thing...

The Thing with Dinner...

Moms out there: What IS IT with dinner?
Breakfast is smooth. I make the food, they eat the food. Easy, done. Lunch is pleasant. What is it about dinner in particular that something always seems to go awry? It's like the witching hour! Does this happen to you guys out there?

I enjoy cooking and maybe I even take it a bit ...well, personally. I put my heart into cooking for my family. (Okay, fine, not every SINGLE night. But most nights) Im not playing the martyr here, like I slave over the stove for hours a day at a thankless, drudgery-filled job. That's not my plight. My husband almost always says thank you after eating dinner and I actually cook because I enjoy it. Its just that after I've spent a considerable amount of time and effort in the kitchen making a meal, I have high hopes and possibly misplaced expections of the dinner hour itself. Its not actually even an hour, it takes anywhere for 30-60 minutes to make the food, but the actual eating takes only about 15 or 20 minutes. And while visions fill my head of my smiling family scooting up to the table, eating and enjoying the food, meanwhile engaging in pleasant, harmonious conversation- the breakdown of what really happens during that 15 or 20 minutes is a far cry. A far cry, people! Something is lost in translation from my ideals and my reality.

Every single night at dinner at least 3 of these 5 things will happen:
1) I will announce dinner is ready and proceed to call everyone to the table...about 5 times. This, I will confess is a total pet peeve. So much lollygagging! Does no one want the food to still be hot?
2) By the time we get both kids' food cut up, any hidden tomatos, onions, or other suspicious looking veg removed and sit down to eat ourselves, my 1 year old son has already finished everything on his tray, is now bored, and proceeds to either smash or throw any remnants of food anywhere he can reach. This is usually accompanied by lots of yelling and grunting.
3) And this one is always a guarantee- my 4 year old daughter is devastated by whatever happens to land on her plate that night. She simply cannot be bothered by food. She would survive on air and saliva if I allowed it. So this of course necessitates a whole lot of coaxing, enforcing, disciplining, etc. Shute, I'd do cartwheels across the table if it would get her to eat of her own free will.
4) All conversations, trains of thought, and unfinshed sentences are abandoned somewhere around mid-meal. Its either eat your own food while its still somewhat warm, or try and remember "what was it we were saying again?"
5) The 1 year old in the highchair has long been done, bored, and pacified beyond what he is in the mood for, and is now trying to make his great escape by jumping out of his highchair. Thank God he's never been successful in this yet, but it almost gives me a heart attack every time he tries.
By the time all is said and done, messes cleaned, dishes cleared, and the dust settles, Im pooped! It feels like a 3 ring circus some nights! Now I will say this: there are lots of great moments too. Bella usually says something offbeat and funny at least once. It may be less than peaceful at times, but we are all still seated together at the table having a family dinner, and that's a good thing. Jaxon is a rowdy little guy, but he is easily pleased and will eat anything I put in front of him. This thrills me.
I know it has much to do with the ages my kids are at, and it wont always feel like so much work. I was pondering this tonight as we ran (literally ran) Jaxon straight from the highchair to the bathtub. I was watching the two of them play and squeal while I soaped up their hair and their rosy cherub cheeks and pot bellies.  I dont want to wish these stages away. It can be a lot more work when they're this little, but its still simple. They need me (and I need them). They are still eager to please and to snuggle and they dont have a care in the world. They infuse my life with laughter and joy. The purest kind of joy. Like when my daughter touches my cheek and tells me Im the best mommy and she loves me "all the way to the moon and back down to the dirt and the flowers". Or when my son laughs his raspy little belly laugh. You just cant beat that. One day they'll be moody teenagers and granted, they'll be a tad more civilized at the dinner table, but it'll be a whole new ballgame by then.
I have learned a few helpful tricks along the way for in the meantime. Such as, BE PREPARED! As long as I have little pieces of food to keep shoveling onto his tray, my son is happy. This also goes for restaraunts.  A little snack, a little coloring book, a game of "I Spy"- they go a long way. And a timer has worked wonders in our household in getting my daughter to eat. If she really isnt eating at all, we put a timer on for 15 minutes. She is so mortified by the mere idea of the timer, that she instantly starts to eat. Victory!
Someday maybe we'll reach that holy grail of all eating while our food is still hot, with no battles, while bonding over a bowl of pasta. Until then, I'll just be happy that we're still bonding. So what if there's spaghetti on the ceiling.

BLURG

To borrow a term from my fictional, tv character- kindred spirit Liz Lemon, my feelings can best be summed up in one word. BLURG.
Or maybe Hmphf. Or Phrrrt! No, dear readers, I have not lost my marbles. Yet. I am currently sitting in my most favorite, ugly-as-sin lazy-boy recliner (that is far too comfortable to part with, however contradicting it may be to my style preferences), which is in the middle of what used to resemble my home, but that is recently in such a state of unrecognizable disarray, that I see no other option than to shrug my duties and blog. Gasp. Who am I, even?! What has become of me?!

For the past few weeks we have been packing, organizing, purging, -doing our darndest to prepare for the big move this weekend. Essentially, editing and disassembling our entire lives. Or at least its felt that way.  Between all of that, and dealing with multiple (albeit minor) health issues in our household, I will candidly say Im feeling a tad bit overwhelmed. Just a teense! A scoch. Okay fine. Totally, completely overwhelmed!

There's always a silver lining: It does feel good to simplify. Trim the excess, clean out all the drawers and closets and spaces that go neglected. The plan is to move, save, and then move, once again, into our forever house. The elusive Forever House. Is there such a thing? Ha! My husband and I counted it up the other day and were shocked to realize this will be our 7th address in 8 years! Sick! We should be professionals by now. So why am I finding this move in particular to be so stressful? Probably because we are downsizing a bit. A lot. Eeek. Probably because while this house is cute, and I know I will make it homey, it is also a transition house. An interim, a means to an end. For some reason this time it feels a little bit sad to be packing everything up once again, emptying it all out, and saying goodbye to another home we've made memories in with our kids. This is the house I brought my son home from the hospital to. Its where he took his first steps. Its where my daughter has put on her tutu and danced in front of the fireplace (the only spot where she can see her reflection!) almost every single morning. Its where we've entertained freinds and played games and had a lot of good times. There's been laughs and there's tears within these walls. I guess thats all just regular life stuff though.

All this editing and disassembling of our 'entire lives' has made me realize that that's not it at all, actually. Its just a house of wood and rooms filled with things. I need not identify with it, be sad to leave it behind, or assume it affects the quality of my life. On to the next house! Where we'll fill it up will all the same craziness. Its a new year, a new home, and a new chapter! I love new chapters!
Now, about all this packing shenanigans....5 more minutes. I just need 5 more minutes of relaxing! I swear....

These Are a Few of My Favorite Things....

Great, I will have that darn song stuck in my head all day long now...
At the risk of being a little narcisstic in thinking that anyone gives a hoot about my  list of favorite things, I went ahead and made one anyway. If Oprah can have a list of Favorite Things,  then why shouldnt I? Haha!-  not that I would lump myself in with Oprah. For a number of reasons.
Seeing as how this blog is, I assume, more for my own personal benefit than anyone else's, and seeing as how lists ARE one of my favorite things, I thought it fitting to make one. Officially.
The following items are in no particular order of rank or importance. Rather, it is just the order in which they occurred to me. Also, I should clarify that it is not an all inclusive list. Just "a few"!

1) MY MORNING COFFEE. This is old news. But Folgers in my cup really might be the best part of waking up. Even better is morning coffee with my best girlfreinds or mom/sister. We dont do it often enough, but it is always good fun.

2) A GOOD LAUGH. There are very few character traits I esteem higher than a good sense of humor. Surely there are a few, but not many. I am a person who laughs a lot, and who can find the humor in almost any situation. So a good hearty/ throw-your-head-back-and-bellow kind of a laugh is my one of my most favorite things. Not to be outdone by a chuckling/ does-anyone-else-think-this-is-funny?-kind of a laugh, or a laughing-so-hard-my-cheeks-and-stomach-hurt-kind of a laugh.

3) FEELING CUTE EVEN WHEN ITS COLD. Which, by the way, is sometimes hard to do when bulky layers win out over fashion sensability. I love a good hoodie. It feels great. It rarely looks great (at least on me). And while hoodies will always have a time and a place in my closet, this season a few of my favorite wardrobe 'things' are as follows (in any combination): Boots. Skirts with opaque tights. Scarves. Belts (I feel naked without a belt) My black 'leather' jacket. Dont laugh. It makes me feel cooler than I really am. Cardigans. Heels. I could do a whole blog as an ode to my shelf of rarely used, pretty heels. But I wont- that's obnoxious. And always and forever, my absolute favorite clothing item will be, a good pair of jeans. And hey, I might even get wild and try a pair of ankle boots. Nah, who am I kidding? I cant pull that off. Not with these ankles.

3) A JOLLY HOME.  As much as I secretly hate doing the work of digging out christmas decorations, taking down usual decor and replacing it with the festive stuff- and then putting it all back a month later, I do love and enjoy the cozy feel of the tree, the decorations, the apple cinnamon candles, etc. Possibly the only thing I love more than a clean house is a clean and jolly house.

4) THE OTHER AMBER. I feel a little guilty for having singled out one person to put on my list of favorite things because there are many more. My mom, my sister, my cousin, my 'poopie', my husband, my closest girlfriends- I could keep going but y'all know who you are. And yes I recognize that this is cheating a little bit because these are people and not things, but its my list! So I feel it is worthy of mention because for as long as I can remember (25 years to be exact) I have identified as one half of  "The Ambers". Was it fate? God's plan? Silly coincidence? I dont know and I dont care, but I just love her for a million and one reasons. I shall list a few: 1) We share the same name. Its fitting, its convenient (seeing as how we've often come as a package deal), its maybe even a bit kitschy, but its fun! 2) There is never any drama. Ever. This is extremely rare among women and I absolutely do not take it for granted. 3) She knows me well enough to often be a foregone conclusion. I find this to be comforting and easy, rather than annoying. 4) She loves my kids as much as I love hers. And now our daughters are the age that we were when we met and became dearest of chums. We might have to force the legacy onto them, although I have a feeling we wont need to. 5) She thinks Im funny. This seems like a wildly selfish and ridiculous reason, but you know what? It makes for a good time! And inconsequentially, I find her to be funny as well.

5) COOKING A GOOD MEAL. Over the years I have come to love cooking more and more. Every important thing I know about cooking I learned from my mother and my sister. Or Giada de Laurentiis. I also love to watch cooking shows, particularly Barefoot Contessa or Nigella Lawson. They are brilliant, classy ladies who make preparing food look and feel like its almost an art. When I first got married I barely knew the  basics, and thus fell into the timid trap of throwing out some kind of disclaimer before one bite was ever taken of any meal I had cooked. Which Im pretty sure most people just find irritating. Since then I've come a long way, but still feel like I have only scratched the surface. Every now and again my sister, who teaches cooking classes (and will always put me to shame in the kitchen), will throw out some term nonchalantly, and I just nod my head pretending to know what she's talking about. Until we both start laughing because, as I've said before, Im almost completely incapable of hiding anything.

6) SNEAKING KISSES. This one has two parts: Initially, I was referring to my insatiable need to kiss my childrens freshly shampooed heads after they've gone to sleep at night. But there is also something sweet about stolen kisses between my husband and I. Granted, its usually the quick, walking out the door or passing in the hallway variety. But even if its just that, its still a reminder that we love each other. We used to spend leisurely weekends together filled with movie dates and dinners out,  now we spend leisurely weekends together as a family, filled with chicken nuggets flying through the air and saturday morning cartoons. Romance changes with the phases of life, but as long as you never lose it altogether, I think its okay if it looks a little different than it used to.

7) SPOUSAL WARS. I dont mean real fights. I mean the practical joke 'wars' that my husband I get into when we are feeling feisty. They can go on for days or weeks at a time and I usually end up losing in the end. I splash him with my toothbrush water and then sit smuggly on the toilet, only to be doused with water 5 seconds later. He will 'pants' me when Im trying to get dressed. Then there's the classic stealing of the pillows when the other one gets up to shut off lights at night or use the restroom. There is usually water fights and wrestling involved (at which I am useless), and as I said, I might win a few battles, but ultimately I lose the war. I make a big fuss and like to feign total exasperation but secretly I think all the banter is fun. With one exception: every single night he lets me get into bed first, then he turns off the light, takes off his socks, rolls them into a tight ball, and throws them at me. Real charming. It was funny for about 2 months. Now I really do just hate it.
Im going to leave it at 7 favorite things for today. Gotta stop somewhere. If you had a list of favorite things, what would it look like I wonder?