What is Love? Baby Don't Hurt Me, Don't Hurt Me No More

"You didn't 'put me out.' If it was going to put me out, I wouldn't do it."

Gee, doesn't that make me just warm and fuzzy inside. Those words came from my husband's mouth this morning after I thanked him for (grudgingly) rubbing lotion on my sunburned back.

It made me wonder, though. Isn't the point of marriage, or any relationship in which you love the other person really, to do things for them or in their best interest even if it means that you put yourself out? I know that, during the course of the average day, I put myself out numerous times for D, C, and J. And, except for when J wants apple juice or milk at 6:30 on Saturday morning and it's an unopened jug so he needs help opening it, I don't mind putting their needs and wants before mine. (I am NOT a morning person, and regardless of when I wake up or even get out of bed, my brain does not kick in until 9am.)

So, I wonder, am I the anomaly or is he? Is it normal to consider it an act of love to put others before yourself, or is it normal to refuse to go out of your way for someone you love?

What a great night

I had the best night tonight. Which was good, because I had a really crappy morning of feeling under appreciated and taken advantage of by those in my life.

Here's how it all began:
We get home for the evening, C is doing (yet more) homework (that he hadn't turned in the first, second, or third time the teacher asked for it - grrr), J is watching Return to Neverland, and I am taking a shower. D gets home, takes a shower, and then we wait for C to finish up his work and for J to finish organizing their shoes in their bedroom (seriously - he gets it from me, I know). D had a crappy day at work, and I didn't feel like cooking, so we opt to go out and get something quick, easy, and not horribly expensive. D is driving my car (not something I love, since I LOVE to drive, but I'm trying to yield on that since it's not a biggie in the grand scheme and he feels that the man should always drive. . . . but I'm an excellent driver, and not just on Saturdays in the driveway ;-) (that would be from Rain Man for you cinematically-challenged readers).) Anyway, D is driving and we are heading off to. . . we have no idea. Haven't made it that far, but the windows are down, the moonroof is open, and the radio is blaring. Red Hot Chili Peppers come on and D says he knows where we're going, and changes lanes to turn right. I look at him, look at the road we're turning on, and smile.

We pull into my favorite Mexican restaurant in town. There are many others that are just as good, if not better on quality of food, but I LOVE this restaurant. And here's why: J and I walk in the door and instantly, the bartender, manager, and five servers turn, see us, smile and say "Hola!" The closest server reaches for two kids menus, lots of crayons, and two adult menus before even asking me how many. He takes us to our table and another server is bringing me my margarita on the rocks. . . that I haven't ordered yet. THIS is why I love this restaurant. Anyway, the food was great, the service was great, all as usual. When we were done, J had done all of his own ordering with the server, even attempting to say "gracias" when the guy brought him his plate. So, when he brings our check, he hands it to J, playing. J looks up at him, smiles, and says, "Thank you." Then he turns to me, whispering, "I don't have any money with me, Mommy. Can I borrow some from you?" He wouldn't let me take the check from him, so he and I go up to the cashier where the manager is. He's talking to us (we used to be neighbors, way back when I was unmarried and working in the leasing office of an apartment complex) while he finishes up a credit card payment from another customer. Then J hands him the check. He looks at it, tells me they forgot to put my discount on it, takes 10% off, then tells J the total. I hand J the cash, he pays, takes the change, uses his manners, and gives me all the change save a quarter, which he promptly uses to buy Skittles from a machine.

But how freakin' cute is that - my 5 year-old bought the family dinner! And was SOOO proud of himself, too.

Moving On. . .

Lately, I've really been struggling. I've been struggling to find motivation, struggling to find peace, struggling to find joy. Some times are easier than others, and some situations are becoming increasingly more difficult. D and I have often discussed moving away, and now we're more convinced that moving is the solution to so many of my (and our) problems. We love where we are, but. . . .
we don't love not getting to make choices for ourselves, or being able to raise the boys how we want, or having to depend and rely on each other and ourselves when things get rough.

As of right now, we are NOT moving. That said, we ARE looking. We have no destination in mind, only that it not be in Tennessee. We are looking for somewhere D can transfer, and somewhere we can afford with one income. I want somewhere warmer, with less winter. D wants somewhere with four true seasons, and less humidity. We both want a red state, but will settle with a strongly red county in a blue state.

Now I'm going to cuddle with J and watch cartoons.

As much as I've had to sit and rest the past week, you would think I could have at least blogged once. But alas. I'm not that good. :-)

I've discovered something the past month or two - Wednesdays are my most productive days. No idea why that is, but there ya go. This morning, for instance - even though I've still got a bum knee and have it in a brace and am supposed to stay off of it as much as possible (meaning my floors aren't getting cleaned by me during this time), I have washed two loads of laundry, cleaned the kitchen, run a load of dishes, picked up the living room, and have a chicken boiling for later. Not sure what I'm going to do with it. . . but boiling it at least gives me a base to make stock from later. And I needed to so something with it.

I'm not very good at sitting still and resting. Which would be why my knee is still tender and swollen. I try. . . right now, I'm on the bed and have my knee propped up, wrapped and iced. And, luckily, J is willing to help me. He's cuddling and watching "Handy Manny" beside me. And I've got my laptop. . . always something to do on here, right?

Luckily, D understands and has been helping out. More importantly, he's not commenting on what's NOT getting done. That helps more than anything, since I'm home all day and should be keeping things up here.

More on other news later. . .

Why?

I'm not sure why, but I'm feeling panicky. . . that sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, the cold chills, the nervous tension. . . . Why? What triggered it? Why now? Even if things aren't okay, I at least thought I had a handle on it all. So what gives? And, in a situation like this, is it better to just give in to the panic attack or do I look for ways to thwart it?

A "Twister" of Emotions

My laundry was caught up. . . until yesterday. I had everything folded (!) and put away, and then the new week started. I've only got two loads to fold today, though, assuming I don't wash anymore. This weekend really did a number on me emotionally. I had the aftershock of the tornado hit me, and that's what really brought on my anxiety. I was incapable of doing much of anything all weekend. D has been able to get quite a bit of overtime (stayed over 2.5 hours last night, went in 2 hours early today, staying late again tonight), which is GREAT, but leaves me needing him here. I love being home with the kids, really, I do. But when I'm all torn up like I am right now, I need reinforcements to come in, even if it's just so I can go take a shower. I'm working my way through the panicked, I can't leave the kids in a room alone stage. I'm getting past the I must have my loved ones within reach at all times phase. Rationally, I understand and know what I need to do. Emotionally, I'm making myself sick, literally, worrying about things. I've made a lot of progress from the past few years to today. Now I recognize the signs and know how to talk myself through it. I know what to remind myself of, and have had people write it down so I can read it from them when I'm about to panic. I'm getting there. I'm growing up. . . finally.

Everything happens for a reason, and we may never know what that reason is. I'm just trying to stop making up reasons myself.

Everyone has their own version of Hell. . . this is mine.

OH MY WORD. This is the first week I've not been running around like a headless chicken in I don't know how long. Birthdays are finally over. That was an ordeal and a half. J, not being in school, took cookies to his first baseball game that night for his "birthday party." C took cookies to school to share with his class. D's mom, when she heard that J took cookies for snack to the game, told us that we should take cookies to D's team's game for C's birthday, because that would be fair. . . how?!?!? C does NOT play baseball anymore. C took cookies to school - J does not go to school. But, in her mind, to be fair, J needed to celebrate his birthday with his baseball team (who didn't even know it was his birthday, FYI, because I didn't want to tell them) and C needed to celebrate his with his classmates AND D's baseball team (who don't even all know C) in order for it to be "fair."

I told D what she said. He looked at me as though I had suddenly sprouted a second head or something; at least he was on my side about it.

In other news. . . I need to fold laundry. A lot of laundry. Bleh. So that's what I'm doing all day. yippee.

Oh - there is one bit of good news! AT&T and I finally worked things out!! YAY! So, I got a new phone number and have my phone back. I literally carried it around all night last night in my pajama pants' pocket. :-)

I know this is short, and pointless, but I needed to vent just a little bit, and I felt compelled to post today. If I ever get all the laundry folded, maybe I'll get on here and celebrate later.