Thursday, February 16, 2012

Love and Marriage

As Valentine's has just passed and my Wedding Anniversary draws near, my husband and I are all lovey-dovey. You know the kind, the one that makes your kids groan and say "eeeewwwww!" So, when my church was holding a marriage seminar for the women a week before Valentine's, it was not high on my priority list. There are so many other things to do with my time and I was curious as to who would be the "expert" on marriage. My husband and I are not perfect but he's my best friend and we put each other first. We are doing good.

He made me go.

Not because he thought we needed it but because the men in our church were strongly encouraged to support their wives going and my husband was trying to set a good example for others. So, I dragged my mother-in-law who lives down the street with me because if I was going she could go to. She had my same concern on "expert." We might be experts on our own marriage and have some tips but the only people who can be an expert on any marriage are the people married to each other.

It was good. They had 2 speakers and both talked about the little things we do that make a big difference. They talked a lot about the love languages and truly accepting and understanding what each other needs. They gave us fancier paper and said to write a love note.

Talking about writing a love note with my husband, we ended up disagreeing. He had kept a note I had forgotten I had written from 2008. It wasn't a love note. I still can't remember the circumstances. It brought up unhappy feelings for him and we rehashed old family differences. So the night before Valentine's day, we didn't go to bed exactly happy. After we finished our "discussion," he went downstairs and shredded the note. After he fell asleep, I wrote him a proper love note.

We had one the best Valentine's Days ever. He loved the new note, even more after he found out I wrote it post-"discussion." I made a candlelit dinner for five; my children's eyes initially widened when they saw the table. You are never too young to learn how to set the table for really special occasions. We even had dancing-Dance Party 3 Wii game was my gift to the family. My youngest and I rock at "This is Halloween" song.

Love is letting go of past wrongs, going the extra mile for small things and big things alike and celebrating whenever you can.

And being lovey-dovey every day to make your kids groan with horror but really having them know that mom and dad love each other.

Monday, February 6, 2012

Drama

While those who know me well might think that the title refers to my oldest girl and the never-ending battle with clothes and "tude" (defined as attitude with sarcasm and coincidentally enough sounds exactly like the her new word "dude" which she calls everyone right now), they would be wrong on this occasion.

I recently had drama that kept me up on Facebook past midnight.

What might keep a mother of three, very reasonable, very responsible up half the night while her husband and children peacefully sleep? Two words--music competition.

Parachute is touring and wanted to have local bands open for them. Salt Lake City is a stop. My very talented, musical, youngest brother wanted to be that band. His band Stereo Breakdown pooled their meager funds together (brother currently works part-time in a coffee shop while going to college) and bought an open box camcorder to film the music videos required by the contest. He had video editing software on his computer. They had a few songs recorded at studio downtown that they wrote for the competition.

No drama at this point. I, as a dutiful sister, went each day of the competition and voted for him and laughed/sometimes enjoyed the other bands. I only laughed in the privacy of my own home office.

On the 2nd to last round of the competition, the drama started. I had forgotten to vote in the morning. So, my husband and I used the Itouch in bed at 10:34 to vote. We noticed that the votes were very close. 1 vote apart. I called my brother and asked when voting ends. He said midnight and did we know anyone else who could vote.

As an established family with children in elementary school, my friends pool doesn't tend to stay up late into the evening. I apologized to him that I couldn't be more help. He mentioned that someone was bashing their band on the competition site and we said goodnight.

Leaving my husband in bed, I padded down in slippers to my office to see what was up. Yes, someone was bashing my brother's band. If the music wasn't his style, that is fine with me. However, he began to accuse them of spoiled pampering by parents giving thousands to give them a leg up on his favorite singer who was recording live from her own home (her own recording studio with a grand piano and professional equipment-the poor dear).

Needless to say, it rankled the members of my family. My father and brother retorted back before cooler heads could reign. The same guy (Rcast38) continued his bash fest against them from the anonymity of his user name and all the venom he could spew. I said something positive on the site and proceeded to Facebook to make a plea to all who might be online at 11:04 pm to help my brother with votes.

Thanks to reasonable people and wonderful late night support, my brother's band made it past that round of competition. The most soothing to my family and my brother was that Parachute voted for his band that round.

So, in some very small part, Rcast38 must take credit for inspiring the outpouring of support from the friends and family of Stereo Breakdown who might have slept through the last hour of competition instead of thinking of anyone else they could contact to vote. He continued his spew the next night of competition and even though my brother didn't win that final round, the rest of us are still proud him.

So that's my drama, family drama, the good kind. The kind where you do anything to help each other even if it's past bedtime because my family is awesome. If you type otherwise, we'll rally.

p.s. there is a wonderful Hunger Games theatrical trailer to view if you find yourself tapping the keys anxiously and waiting for midnight to come one night in the future.