Dorie Morgan’s Rising Up
Navigating Twenty-Something Suburban Life
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Archive of "husband" Category
Cheering for the home team
I know nothing about football but for some reason, there is this very special place in my heart for high school football. Maybe it was one too many night in the stadium during my own high school days while my friends marched with the band or maybe there something about seeing all of the families in the stands. I can’t help myself. Friday nights in a stadium, hearing the drum cadence and seeing the kids on the field makes me excited.
Brian has no concept of this. One of the downfalls to homeschooling is that it leaves kids with virtually no typical rites of passage. No prom. No graduation. No football games. Just home and school which happen to take place in the same place.
Brian and I went to the big game on Friday night. My own Neshaminy Redskins versus the Pennsbury Falcons on Heartbreak Ridge. The two rivals on Senior Appreciation Night. It doesn’t get any more classic high school than this. It was a perfect game to take Brian to see.
It was nothing that I remembered. Bet you didn’t see that coming.
Sure the stadium was the same. Those giant concrete stands couldn’t change if they wanted to. The snack stand was in the same location. The Neshaminy Hall of Fame Wall was right where I saw it last. The marching band sat in the same portion of the stands as they did when I was a student.
Everything was physically exactly the same but the experience I wanted to recreate for Brian just couldn’t be done. I left that experience behind in 2000.
Because when we leave the past, we leave the past. We don’t just carry it with us to re-experience when it is convenient. It is why life is so precious.
I can’t bring Brian back in time to experience things differently, even if I think he will enjoy the experience I had.
I can take Brian to see my childhood home but I cannot recreate the experience of sitting in the family room, folding paper stars with my grandfather while my grandmother made dinner. I am the only one who had that experience and the time for that is over.
Our experiences are our own. They are not transferable. It’s a onetime deal.
The upside? I can have new experiences with my husband. And because I’m with my husband, those experiences are something that I could not have on my own.
Neshaminy won the game on Friday. And in terms of a “new” experience (ie: Brian at a high school football game), it was fun but I think next time, I’ll leave my high school memories at home.
Brian, Dorie and Stress
I used to forget that men and women deal with stress differently. But I also think that most of us forget we deal with stress differently until we watch someone be beaten over the head violently with their own stress. Then we remember. And then we go back to the blissful state of ignorance when the poor victim of stress walks away. Life is great.
This stops working once two people decide to walk down the aisle. Then, all bets are off. I’m not trying to scare the single friends out there but it’s true.
Then you get the pleasure of living with your mate’s stress and their way of addressing their stress.
Like many women, when stress hits I give myself a pep talk and pull myself up by my bootstraps. Your house collapsed and you have nowhere to go? Great, I’ll organize a community meal schedule and prep the house for you to stay with me for a month. I’m five minutes away. Oh you need a baby sitter with ten minutes notice? Great, by the time you pick up your family, the kids will be fed, homework will be done and my house will still be immaculate. Money is tight, we got a surprise bill and you don’t know how we’re going to manage it? That’s fine, I moonlight as a miracle worker, and I’ll make it happen.
It sounds ridiculous but this is how I process everything in my head.
Brian’s approach to dealing with stress is much different. He shuts down. He ceases to function. Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars. He’s okay with stress to a point, and then he is not. He just stops.
I go into “Super Bitch” mode when I get to that level of stress. At that point, I’m going to get my shit done and you will not get in my way. Brian is very kind when he calls me “Cranky Face”. A little too kind perhaps. Kind to the point of lying to me.
We both get a little annoyed with the other for our respective coping mechanisms. The coping mechanisms that worked best when we were single are not necessarily the best coping mechanisms in terms of a marriage.
I talked to my friend Carmella about this. Carmella is a marriage counselor and a newlywed herself. She is also my frequent voice of reason. When I cross over into crazy land with my expectations of other people, she is the one who can say I’m being unreasonable and I know that statement from her does not come from a defensive place. It comes from the voice of someone who is pursuing a Ph.D. in Psychology.
Carmella, of course, tells me that this is normal and most couples find themselves with similar responses. Which I find hard to believe at first. Because how did we as humans manage to populate the planet if the men-folk were shutting down every time stress happened? “Uh-oh Honey, some prehistoric beast is attacking our cave! No wait; don’t hide in the corner, save our offspring!”
But while I am still contemplating the evolutionary implications of our stress reactions, Carmella tells me that the dinners I make are excessive. And she’s right. Because dinner is a massive undertaking in our house. It takes me at least an hour to make dinner every night. Maybe I’m going overboard but I want my husband to have one really good meal every day.
The night after I talk to Carmella, Brian looks at me and says “you get home every night and it’s late. And then you make dinner and it’s late. And then you clean up dinner and it’s late. And then we watch TV but you fall asleep.”
I deal with stress by trying to make a perfect meal and Brian deals with stress by wanting to watch television with a wife who is awake.
We continue the dance of figuring out what it means to be in a marriage with each other.
Happy Anniversary: One year down, the rest of our lives to go.
Today is my first wedding anniversary. Somehow, Brian and I have survived our first year of marriage with no visible scarring and still like each other. The still liking each other part is important. Sometimes I remind him that I promised to always love him but I made no such promises about always liking him.
Comments like that are usually met with some response regarding him always liking me. I don’t think that is true. I have a tendency to do really stupid things. Fortunately, he is much more mellow than I am and much more forgiving.
Between the two of us, we make one very balanced and reasonable person.
Brian and I never dated before we decided to get married (well, we had one date and then the next day, his mother died). We also only knew each other for about three months before we announced our engagement. And for two of those months, I tried to think of Brian as “Kelly’s little brother” and refused to learn his name.
I have always been a firm believer that when you know, you know. It’s that simple. If you don’t know at the end of three months if you want to marry the other person or not, you’ll never want to marry that person. You could convince yourself to marry that person but it isn’t really your desire.
Dating is highly over rated. And it isn’t very effective either. Dinner and a movie can only tell you so much about a person. And most of us try to put on a good face for dating – you hide how crazy your family really is and you pretend that you normally shave your legs everyday. Eventually, the façade has to come down and you have to decide if you really like or even love the person lurking behind the façade or if it was all just a waste of your time.
What Brian and I had was a courtship. For us, a courtship consisted of about a week’s worth of heavy, serious conversations about what we wanted from ourselves, from our lives and from each other. It was intense and it was scary. But, I can honestly say that during the first year of marriage, there were no surprises as to who the other person was.
By having a courtship, Brian and I opted for the slow burning love that we often discount as boring. We decided that it was more important to have an enduring marriage than just sparks at the beginning.
You have to really know what your priorities are in order to have a sustainable marriage. It isn’t something that you can just walk into blind. I spend a lot of time wondering about other couples – after the initial spark is gone, are they as happy as Brian and I are? What makes those marriages last?
Peter Keating: The Tumor
I have an MRI scheduled for Thursday evening after work at the earliest possible time I could guarantee Brian could make it. I didn’t want to wait too long to have the test done but I need to know that my husband is there. I am terrified of needles and someone will have to hold me still while they inject the contrast for the scan into my vein.
I have always been a big baby about needles. The first time I remember receiving a needle was a traumatic and shocking moment and the experience has not improved from there. It does not help matters that I was sick and hallucinating at the time and I thought the old women in the hospital with blue hair were trying to eat me (in hindsight, I realize them telling me that I was “sweet enough to eat” was a lie intended to calm me down and not a promise of events to come). As an adult, I no longer blame those women but I do think that experience explains why I will never be a blood donor despite a belief in my family that blood donation is a patriotic and Christian duty. I suspect the Red Cross would rather not get my blood considering the ordeal I would likely put them through.
Brian will have to be there in order for anyone to survive.
The MRI is looking for a tumor my doctor suspects is currently growing on my pituitary gland and secreting hormones that should not be secreted. I am actually starting to hope that the tumor does exist. I’d rather know what is wrong than anything else. And I’d rather start treatment right away. In this case, ignorance is definitely not bliss.
I decided that naming the potential tumor that is lurking inside my skull would be a very good idea. I wrestled with the idea of naming it for several days as I don’t plan on keeping it inside of my head forever and perhaps I should not provide a tumor with its own identity but I ultimately decided that while the tumor is in me, it is not part of me and therefore should not share my identity with me.
I named the tumor “Peter Keating”.
My husband, who is not well read and who is not an objectivist, was very confused by this. I think he was also confused at the naming of a potential tumor but I’m fairly certain the tumor is there.
Perhaps I’m just putting the cart before the horse by treating a potential tumor as if it were here but at the same time, naming the tumor seems to make it better. As if by naming the tumor, I control the tumor. I control how long the tumor is here and I control what effects the tumor has on my life. It is almost as if I am Adam and God has given me the task of naming all creatures I am to have dominance over. I plan on dominating the tumor.
The fact is, without some sense of control, the possibilities of this tumor are terrifying. And while I know at some point I will have to be able to surrender the idea that I can have control or I will be humbled by something unexpected, but at the moment, I feel like a sense of control is a good thing. It gives me something to cling to.
The Hard Part of Marriage
The most difficult aspect of marriage is realized around the same time that you realize you want to shed some aspect of your life. You can’t. You are now unable to shed the skin you are in when it becomes itchy and uncomfortable. You can no longer escape your bad decisions when they no longer suite you. Your bad decisions now belong to someone else and in turn, their bad decisions now belong to you as well.
In my pre-marriage life, I used to take solace in the fact that I did not choose my family. The egg and sperm that I grew from did not choose each other, they just happened to both be lurking in the same uterus at the time of my conception. I did not pick my parents but they were still my family. And by not picking my family, it became so much easier to distance myself from them or discount them as people. I may be sharing genetic material with them but they chose me.
As a married woman, my family now is my husband. And I did choose him. I decided to marry Brian just as Brian decided to marry me. I decided to love him and build a life with him. I decided he would be my family. And for that reason, I am not able to discount him or distance myself from him for the simple reason that it was all my choice. I am married to both Brian and his decisions.
Sometimes this scares the crap out of me.
When we first completed our walk down the aisle, I suspected that the most difficult aspect to relate to the fact that I would be having the same sex every night with the same man for the rest of my life. And as the play-ette I was in my single days, this was a bit concerning. There would be no more bad day sex with an ex-boyfriend. No more mid-week booty calls. I would be having sex with Brian until we were either too old to have sex or until one of us died. Surprisingly though, thus far, it hasn’t been that bad. In fact, I find that I like it and the lack of a chase for sex means I have more time at night to moisturize, therefore maintaining my youthful appearance for as long as possible.
But along with the consistent sex comes the consistent marriage. When Brian does something dumb, I can’t just walk away. I can’t through the towel in because I’m pissed off that Brian didn’t get my car fixed in a timely manner. When he comes out with a statement involving a bad idea being “really great”, I will still have to deal with the aftermath of that idea in the morning. And when I do dumb things, which I do constantly, I can’t just walk away from it. Suddenly, I have discovered that I must deal with the consequences of my actions.
My life choices for the first time have truly become life choices.
Life as a single person is transitional. Your friends, your job, your hobbies – these all can be replaced and no one needs remember but yourself. After marriage, someone will remember all of these things and more. My life story has now become so entwined with Brian that now he is my life story and I am his.
It seems the binding of marriage has hit me in ways I did not know how to prepare for.
Tales from the Honeymoon: Half Moon Cay
Brian and I returned from our Honeymoon two weeks ago and it has been rather odd getting back into the swing of life. I burned our dinner on Sunday night and laundry has been a challenge. It was a much needed break for us and I’m glad we waited to go on our trip.
The cruise was amazing. We saw so much and we met lots of interesting people. The weather was beautiful and there was always something to do. We actually had to be deliberate about finding time to not do things and to just sit and be. It was great.
When we arrived at the port in Miami, I was amazed by the ship. I knew it was going to be huge but I didn’t quite know what to expect. I felt so small walking onto the ship and I thought I was going to spend the entire trip lost and confused. We sailed on the Carnival Triumph which I was told wasn’t even one of the biggest or newest ships in the fleet. The ship had a “World” theme to it so there were the Paris and London Dining rooms, the Rome Lounge, the Hollywood Disco, The Oxford Bar, the Venetian Room, and the Tokyo Underground amoung other places. Each of these rooms or locations were inspired by the cities they were named for, some more effectively than others. The ship also had gift shops, an art gallery, more bars than I knew what to do with, mini golf, an internet cafe, a spa, a gym, a theater, a library, and housed 1400 crew and 3000 passengers. Wow.
We visited four ports during our trip. Our first stop was Half Moon Cay in the Bahamas. Originally it was a pirate island but now it is privately owned. Only 45 acres of the 2000+ acres are developed so it looks like a rainforest magically appearing in the ocean when you approach it. The sand is so soft and the water is breath-taking clear. The downside to the island is that everything was run by Carnival so it wasn’t quite as intimate as the other islands; everything left a corporate taste in your mouth.
We went snorkeling at Half Moon Cay. I wasn’t sure if I would enjoy it as I am not a very strong swimmer but I found I was able to hold my own. In the water, there were mostly white fish with a blue-black stripe. Looking down at the water, they were easy to spot and see the outlines but from under the surface, it was difficult to see more than a dark line pass before your face. Brian discovered that the fish loved hotdogs as they all swarmed around him, fighting for a piece of the hot dog he was dropping into the ocean. I wasn’t a big fan of feeling the fish flick around my legs but it was an interesting experience to have.
I was also amazed at my ability to swim in the ocean. For a long time, I thought it was physically impossible for me to enter a body of water and manage to keep my head above the water but it wasn’t a struggle. Brian was able to explain to me how to make it easier because he could finally see what I was doing in the water to keep afloat without me thrashing around like a mad woman for air.
Another special thing from the trip was Brian with his shirt off on the beach. His skin is so fair and he burns so easily that he usually avoids spending time outside with his shirt off. But we kept him well slathered with sunscreen and he actually did better in the sun than I did. There are a few pictures of us together in our beach attire that I think I will always cherish.
By the end of the day, we were exhausted. My legs ached from walking and swimming but it felt so good. Our three o’clock nap was amazing and we had a dinner that tasted like heaven.
I’ll be posting pictures in here eventually but we still need to get them off of the camera.
What does that ring really mean?
On Monday through Friday, my husband wakes up and takes off his wedding band. It is as much apart of our routine as making dinner or visiting my grandparents. A new work day means that for the next eight to nine hours my husband takes off the visible symbol that he is mine and I am his.
For the vast majority of my husband’s time outside of the house, in a strange way, I do not exist. Women do not notice his wedding band because he does not wear it. And in an outsider’s perception, I only exist once I am mentioned.
Of course when he returns from work, his wedding band goes right back on his finger. Or at least right after he takes a shower. I do not doubt my husband’s dedication to our promise when the ring is on or off of his finger.
I find myself asking the question though – if a wedding band was not on my finger, would a stranger realize that I am married? If I did not wear my ring at work, would I feel less married? Does the ring make the marriage?
If the ring does not make the marriage, then my husband spent quite a bit of money on an engagement ring and wedding band that he did not need to.
In a strange way, a ring is almost like a human shield – the ring should be saying “your advances are not wanted”. But why do we need a little piece of metal to say that to others? Why are we not capable of saying it ourselves? Or maybe the ring is saying it to us, as in “their advances are not wanted”.
Anniversaries
Note: While a good part of me is desperate to give a scathing review of Britney Spears and its impact on pop culture and another part of me feels obligate to write something about September 11 and what it means to remember, I have decided that I will not be touching those topics until later in the week. There is still too much hype from Britney and it is so cliché to write about September 11th. I don’t believe that I can address those topics in a meaningful way at this time so I decline to do so until I feel ready. But trust me, I will.
On Saturday afternoon, I found myself shopping in Macy’s for dress clothes for Brian with my father which was not something I had planned to do. I had planned to go to my parents’ house, have my mother iron Brian’s new dress shirt and then head home but my mother’s quick departure to a hair appointment threw a wrench in those plans. I was grateful when my father offered to show me how to iron the dress shirt but one burnt fifty-five dollar French cuff shirt later, I was wondering if I made the correct decision.
Both fortunately and unfortunately, Macy’s was having their Labor Day One Day Sale on Saturday which meant prices were great but the lines were massive. We managed to find something similar to the burnt shirt in the very last one in Brian’s size. The line seemed to go on forever and very quickly, I found myself engaged in awkward conversation with my father.
My dad is not really a much of a talker in the best of circumstances. He’s a quiet guy, insightful. He’s the type of man that you have significant conversations with at home or in a nice restaurant on a predetermined date. He is not the type of man who wants to have a great conversation in line at a Macy’s. Whereas I’m the type of girl who does want to have those conversations.
We very quickly burned through the conversation he was willing to make. So I moved on to birthdays, anniversaries, upcoming significant family events. It just so happens that my parents’ sixteenth wedding anniversary is in two weeks so I asked my dad what he and my mom would like for a gift.
I was quickly alerted that this was an inappropriate question for me to ask. My father, apparently, believes that an anniversary is a private, intimate event between two people. An anniversary has nothing to do with anyone other than the two people who were involved.
I was shocked. And mildly insulted.
In a strange way, I realized that the words coming out of my father’s mouth went against everything I was raised to believe. And somehow, I felt like I was being left out in the cold by my family.
As a child raised with just a mother, I knew any marriage she was able to make was also a marriage with me. A potential husband for her was a potential father for me. We were a package deal and there was no way to separate us. My mother’s second husband adopted me following the wedding, making him the only father I have ever known. The marriage that took place in September of 1991 marks not only the beginning of my mother’s life with my father but the beginning of stability for me as well. Their anniversary is far more than just them.
Even more importantly, I was hurt as a Christian. A wedding between a man and a woman is not a rope with two strands but a rope with three strands representing Man, Woman and God. My father seemed to be leaving God out of his marriage. I also believe that a marriage is an event with in a community and therefore, shouldn’t the anniversary of that marriage also be an event within a community? If it does not continue to have that significance, then why do we take the time and effort to engage in premarital counseling through the Church, have the wedding ceremony take place in a Church and then invite a multitude of family and friends to the event? It seems to me that in order for a marriage to be successful, a community needs to stand behind it and in it. The support of other followers of Christ is what separates Christian marriages from our contemporary counterparts.
I’m still not sure what I want to say to my dad on the matter. I did some sleuthing and discovered where they are celebrating the day with a meal. It’s my intent to do something nice to mark the day, regardless of his desire for my involvement. Maybe its stubbornness or maybe it is a desire to be more Christ like in my actions. I have yet to determine which option it is.
A Year Ago Yesterday
A year ago yesterday, my mother-in-law passed away. I didn’t know at the time that someday I would refer to her as my mother-in-law but I had a very strong feeling at the time that something wonderful was about to happen between her son and I. I believe that in many ways, Beth’s passing was a catalyst, bringing Brian and I together and setting many wheels in motion.
So much has changed since she left this Earth. We are all a year older. We all look different. Most of us have new haircuts. Brian and I were married. Kelly and Jason (Brian’s middle sister and his best friend) were married. Beth’s grandchildren were homeschooled. I found a new job. Kelly moved out. I moved in. Kelly was promoted at work. Don met new people. I went camping for the first time. There was good and there was bad.
Yesterday was still a Morgan Day of Mourning. It marked the beginning and the end of many things. I remembered Beth by trying to do something nice for other people. I baked desserts for the PBU back to school bbq my church had. I did not attend as I don’t think I could have maintained the niceness. I also read the section on mourning in Muddhouse Sabbath. I thought about the ways we mourn as Christians fail the families of the loved ones who passed. I remembered a promise I once made to Beth and took some first steps to maintain it. I held my husband and I told him how loved he is. I made dinner for my family and enjoyed spending time with them.
I’m still sad my babies will never know their Grandmother and that the stories that will be told will be largely inadequate.
How Quickly Ghosts Return
I received a phone call from an ex boyfriend last night. Not that a call from an ex boyfriend is all that unusual. I’ve had a lot of ex boyfriends and I am still friends with the majority of them. After all, I dated them for a reason and usually the reason I wanted to date them is reason why I want to maintain a friendship after the fact.
This ex boyfriend and I have a lot of history. I truly believed until a year ago that he and I were going to get married. Now I’m married to Brian. The ex and I have had the oddest relationship since day one. The first time I met him, I fell in love with him. I came home and told my mother that I had met the man I was going to marry. Mind you, I was 16 and he was 14. He is one of the rare people in my life that I know I will love forever regardless of the ways we have hurt each other in the past and the ways we will hurt each other in the future.
His phone call terrified me. He didn’t know I was married. And there was something in his voice that scared me as that revelation I was made. I know him the same way I know Brian. Which is also very scary.
Six months ago, I thought I was never going to see him again. Now he calls and says he’s been thinking about me. I almost gave up everything for him and now he’s thinking of me. Great. Day late and a dollar short my friend.
My marriage is my priority. I hope he understands that nothing can change now.
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