My Love

(LG and I - Dec 1997 - quite possibly my favorite photo in the world)

Oh the title makes me sing...."My love, there's only you in my life, the only thing that's right".

Am I the only crazy person in the world who hears lyrics in my head on a daily basis?

Now that Valentine's Day is over, I have had a whole half of a day to reflect.

On love.

Who knew it is so complicated?

I learned in therapy last week that I am really not the greatest at receiving love.

Try fixing that one. If you have success let me know.

I am a little worried that I am not going to be able to improve in the area and I'll be left a non-loved hag.

Just call me Grinch, or Scrooge, or even Ornery Old Lady, Maxine.

So, as I told you before, LG and I have been trying to figure out ways to enhance our marriage.

I could tell you all of our baggage, but that seems to bring out some serious haters.

And I am trying to learn how to receive more LOVE not HATE.

So, let's just say that 6 years ago when LG started law school, we hit a 6 year slump.

And we are trying to slowly dig our way out.

It takes individual and combined efforts.

It's complicated and difficult.

And exhausting.

Thank goodness we have a therapist to throw us a line from time to time.

But, I have every reason to believe that we will come out on top.

Together.

Meanwhile, I am spending a lot of time reflecting.

Instead of blogging.

As you have all noticed.

(And I've been spending too much time on Facebook.)

One thing that was told to me on Facebook was to read a book.

The Five Love Languages

by Gary Chapman

I found a copy at the local and awesome used book store, McKay's.

I didn't want to wait behind 32 other people at the local library, so I forked over $7.

I had to search for the book.

It was finally found in the Christian section in the subsection High Demand.

Funny they had only two copies compared to several shelves of Bibles.

Now that's a modern conundrum.

Can I now use my reading of The Five Love Languages as an additional argument for why Mormons are Christian too?

So, I have read a good twenty pages.

I am trying to decide my love language.

The choices are:

1- quality time

2- words of affirmation

3- gifts

4- acts of service

5- physical touch

The earth shattering gospel of the book is that every person has a love language that they understand.

Love languages are learned just as a native communicating language is learned.

If your spouse doesn't show love to you in your language,

it's as if a Chinese person who speaks no English is married to a Spanish person who speaks no Chinese.

Well, because my therapist says I am not good at receiving love.

Which I have come to believe is true.

I am wondering if I even have any love language at all.

LG and I were discussing this little worry of mine.

I was reminded of a little conversation we had recently.

I said, "I think I might have a little of the language of "gifts".

A few weeks back I was telling LG that I had read a great article in Good Housekeeping about the art of the love letter.

I told LG he should read it.

He agreed that he should.

He was distracted at work on the phone.

I didn't think he was listening to me.

I said, "Do you know what would be the best love letter for me?"

He said, "What?"

I said with all the confidence I could muster:

"The dishwasher is on it's way."

He was actually listening because he laughed.

Hard.

LG hasn't bought into the idea that buying me things will make our marriage more loving.

He questioned last night how him bringing me things home from The Dollar Tree could really help our marriage.

I told him that he should try it and see.

And that I think it really would.

Help our marriage.

He said, 'How does some random glass figurine make you know I love you?"

I reminded him that the first gift he ever gave me was a porcelain skunk.

And it has sat in a place of honor in our front room,

for the last twelve years.

He was silent.

As he pondered.

What he is going to buy me at the dollar tree.

Until he can afford the dishwasher.

And, my love language has been uncovered.

Now, we just have to figure out LG's.

We think his might be words of affirmation.

He likes it when I tell him that he's sexy.

I told him that spending $1 on something stupid is sexy.

Watch out therapist.

Gary Chapman is gonna steal your hardest clients.

Please, don't ever argue that facebook isn't good for a marriage.

Because although my therapist helped me to see that my love needed help in the receiving department.

A friend on facebook pointed me in the right direction.

So that I could see that I would most prefer to receive love,

in the form of a gift.

A Poopy Ending

My friend Valerie e-mailed me another funny one. It served as a reminder to me today that we can never predict the ending. And we should laugh because it's good for us.

There was a bagpiper. He was asked to play his bagpipes at the grave site of
a homeless man.

The bagpiper showed up late as he got lost in the hills of Kentucky on his
way to an unknown cemetery.

When he finally arrived he saw the workers had already started to fill in
the grave. They were now sitting and eating their lunches. He looked down and
saw the top of the casket. He took out his bagpipes and started playing with all
the heart he had for this homeless person who left this earth alone. By his last
number, Amazing Grace, the workers were all gathered around and everyone was
weeping.

The bagpiper silently gathered his instrument and started for the
car.

As he got in his car he overheard one of the workers, "WOOOOOwee. I've
never seen nothing like that before and I've been putting in septic tanks for
over twenty years."

Anatomical Energy

There is a reason I married a guy who had the skills in Science.

I knew somebody was gonna have to teach it to our children.

Shortly after LG and I got married, we both started a new semester of college. He went to one of his advanced classes while I tried my hand at Physical Science 101. After this 2nd attempt at Physics, (the first ending horribly in High School with one of the only bad grades I remember receiving) I found my knight in shining armor waiting for me outside the room. It only took that first 45 minutes of the introduction to the semester to get me all in tears.

"I just can't take that class."

He was dumbfounded. I tried to explain. He tried to understand.

Me: "I just don't get the study of gravity. I know if I chuck this textbook at you, it will hit you. Why else do I need to know that stuff? I don't care how long it will take or how hard it will hit. Who needs the law of gravity? It's not like we are ever gonna live on the moon."

Him: "Well, Alice, that isn't technically the law of gravity, if you throw that book at me."

Me crying harder, "O.k. whatever, see I just don't care. I can't learn about something that I don't care about one iota."

"or one molecule, or atom or whatever they call that stuff."

Do they really call it mass? Matter? And there is a difference between the two?

Later that evening, while in bed, (we were newly weds who actually waited until we got married, so you can go ahead and wonder why we were still discussing this topic) we decided that Biology might be a better choice for me.

If I could get the babies here,

he would agree to teach them everything they needed to know in the area of science.

Well, tonight was the night. Where was my knight in shining armor when I needed him?

Abigail came home from the fifth grade with the confusing stuff.

"Are you serious Abigail? They really teach you this stuff in fifth grade?"

No wonder I was so lost in the 11th grade. It was the first time I remember ever seeing the material.

Did the rest of the class really get their start about 6 years earlier?

Well, I am honored to tell you that the stuff is still confusing to me.

Abigail tried to be humble. O.k. not really.

"Mom, it's so easy. Will you just test me on the stuff?"

"Um, yeah, sure."

Note to self: Someday tell Abigail the knight in shining armor story.

Here is where my explaining stopped.

This is a photo of the Nuclear Plant in Diablo Valley, CA

Me: "Abigail, there are two boobs in California. I think they are kinetic, um, I mean potential energy."

"Oh, forget it, go to bed. We'll get you up early so dad can help you."

Abigail. "Boobs, are you kidding me mom?"

Oh, yeah, I dropped Anatomy after two weeks.

I just couldn't stand the thought of seeing what was really inside of a boob.

And if you are like me and still left trying to figure it out.

Does a boob store energy or is it "energy in use"?

You will have to ask my husband. Or Abigail may be able to help you. Tomorrow.

LG just got home.
He says that the answer is: Boobs create energy.

Sing, sing, sing

If I had another life to live, I think I would like to be a music teacher.

Abigail was chosen to be in the Knox County Honors Choir.

I am so excited.

I cannot wait for their concert.

I feel like I have ticket to American Idol or something.

Abigail's director gave them this youtube link to hear one of the songs they will sing.

I cried when I watched it.

Maybe I am in the dark ages, but this choir PS22 is all over the place.

Check out their blog.

What an inspiring choir director.

He just made my day.

I e-mailed him and he e-mailed me back.

What a guy.

My religion ain't football

But there are sure a lot of worshipping VOL fans out there.

And they HATE Lane Kiffin.

(He's a dirty rotten, good for nothin, pack ' o lies, cheatin' sell-out coach)

Hope all you Californian's won't regret it.

It's about time I had a church sign worthy of the blog.

11 pounds 8 ounces.

This is LG's cousin's newly born baby.

Her name is Sydney Rachel.

This photo has to make you smile.

I have looked at it at least 10 times since she was posted on Facebook.

Momma Rowena deserves some serious spa time.

What a little chunk.

How cute.

My morning laugh

LG gave a lesson to the Scouts at church yesterday about the fact that God knows us individually.

I am certain that this joke came to my e-mail box one day too late.

They would have loved it.

A burglar broke into a house one night.

He heard a voice saying, "Jesus knows you are here."

The burglar was astonished.

He waved his flashlight around until he saw a parrot in a cage.

With the spotlight being shone on him the parrot said,

"I am warning you, Jesus is watching you."

The burglar said, "What in the world.... a parrot is trying to warn me.

You've got to be kidding me. Who do you think you are?"

The parrot responded, "Moses."

The burglar taunted that this was ridiculous.

He questioned, "What kind of people name their parrot Moses?"

The parrot taunted back, "The same kind of people that name the Rottweiler Jesus."

Yes, there is a Santa Claus

After a recent depressing blog post,

I received an outpouring of love.

It was truly a miracle.

A Christmas miracle.

I had tried not to talk about our deplorable situation.

I didn't want to be needy.

Or ungrateful.

I also didn't want to make my husband feel bad.

Because he has been busting his tail.

But when one is building his own business straight out of college,

it is rough. Really rough.

And even rougher when you have a family to support.

This has been the worst fiscal year of our lives.

And that says a lot.

Because you all know we were in law school with three kids.

And we lived on less than $18,000 a year.

For those who aren't Mormon.

You gotta know that Mormons keep a supply of food for emergencies.

Months back, we lived on that food for the first time in our married lives.

After months of living like this, I finally fell apart on my blog.

I threw it out there.

And I only threw a small portion

of the load that I had been carrying.

As to not make anyone feel bad.

Especially my husband.

Who I honor, respect, and admire.

Shortly after I threw it out there,

Miracles started to happen.

(LG sarcastically remarked that I should have begged on the blog earlier,

like when the kids needed shoes for school.)

I can't even think about some of them without crying.

For instance,

A friend I haven't spoken to in years called and asked what she could buy my girls for Christmas.

She had read the blog and felt inspired.

I am deeply grateful for all of the little miracles in 2009.

God has been good to us.

But one miracle in particular,

deserves a special mention.

A special mention

because

I met the wife of Santa Claus

when she found my blog years ago.

I would have never known Santa Claus without the blog.

Did you know that Santa really lives in Nevada?

Last week I got an e-mail from him.

The message line.

Yes, Abigail, Sophia, Bella, Caroline..there is a Santa Claus.

Along with it there was a notice to pick up a trampoline at our local Wal-Mart.

Santa's wife had read my blog.

She notified her kind and generous husband of a Christmas need.

It wasn't really a need, but a want.

A want on the Christmas list.

A want that some down and destitute parents could have never fulfilled.

And they would have never asked for help.

Because it was just a want.

And their kids had what they needed.

And the kids had become very aware that the basic necessities of life were blessing enough.

They could ask Santa for some amazing gift,

but he probably would be too busy helping some even more destitute kids in Africa.

But guess what?

Santa wasn't too busy.

And on one day of the year,

nothing was too much to want.

Because on one day of the year.

Miracles happen.

And some precious little girls in Knoxville, TN got a trampoline.

Even when their parents had told them repeatedly

that Santa had kids to feed in Africa.

And would probably be too busy.

And one very little blogger.

with a very small readership.

Got her Christmas miracle too.

Santa Claus read her blog.

And on Christmas Day,

he made her husband smile.

Really smile.

And that is all she wanted.

And she had wanted that for a very long time.

Ever since last Christmas.

But she thought Santa was too busy in Africa.

But, Santa was in Nevada.

And he not only read my blog.

But he made miracles happen at my house.

That is so like him.

I heard this song on the radio the evening of Christmas.

I bawled my eyes out.

That evening my prayer went something like this:

Give Santa a halo for me, will ya?

Oh, and send his wife a big fat kiss.

The Nine Good Things

Some people complained that I was mean to my husband by calling him anti-social two posts ago.

First, in my defense. I wasn't trying to be critical. I thought I was just stating the facts. He really is extremely introverted. He will be social and even enjoys being social with close friends and family, but even then I usually have to drag him to their parties. And Valerie Ader will attest to the fact. Since she is one of the only people who does invite us over from time to time.

I don't think it is a bad thing to understand ourselves and the people we love and to discuss things freely, and I apologize to those people who feel like I should be more private. LG is also learning to understand that being more open leads to healthier relationships.

Anyhow, after some feedback, it got me thinking of my goal to build the guy up instead of tear him down.

Yes, I fail at my goals often. And I do apologize when I do, privately and sometimes publicly. Aren't you all lucky?

So as part of my apology I would like to practice the old parenting adage that you should dish out 9 compliments for every reprimand.

Before the nine compliments though, let me make it clear that I wasn't trying to passively reprimand my husband for being anti-social. I love him just the way he is. I don't blame him for the fact that we don't have friends. In fact if the blame really lies with anyone it is with me way more than it is with him.

On with it, already.

So the nine things.

But one more distraction before the nine good things. In the spirit of full disclosure and honesty I would like to admit that my husband is far from perfect. I say that not to make him feel bad or to be critical but to make those of you out there that are mad at your husbands or dealing with a difficult marital relationship know that it's o.k. EVERYBODY on this planet has strengths and weaknesses and the beauty of marriage is that you learn to look past those things. If you are really blessed you can playfully banter about them (I read an article today describing George and Barbara Bush doing just that) And if you are really really lucky, you can watch a spouse as their weakness turns to a strength. Maybe LG will see improvement in me as he reads this nice post. That's my ulterior motive anyhow. Can you say brownie points? :)

By the way, honest is probably the one word I would pick to describe myself. The name Alice means honest - I am lamely honest. Almost like that girl in Ella Enchanted had to do what she was told...it's as if I was cursed as a child to state what I am thinking and only the truth at all times. But I am learning to turn weakness into strength. I started by not airing a single piece of LG's dirty laundry in that last paragraph; much to the relief of some of his other loved ones I am sure.

So , really, with no further ado...here are the nine things.

LG may be the only one who cares to keep reading. Oh, and LG's mom. And of course, you, John, because you want to see how capable you are as a marriage counselor.

1 The guy is smart. Really really smart.

2 He is extremely patient. (What a bonus for me)

3 He is one of the kindest individuals on the face of the planet. (When they say "oh, he would never hurt a fly", that is a lie, he would swat a fly to death, and also doesn't have too much respect for any animal he could shoot in the garden, but besides that, he wouldn't hurt a fly)
4 He is hilarious. (He promised me that he would make me laugh every day before we got married, and he has lived up to that promise except for the days that he has only made me cry, but either way he has turned my frowns upside down)
5 He is fair and ethical, not just because he is supposed to be but because he just is.
6 He is generous. (A few years back he didn't bat an eyelash when I told him to give up half his meager Christmas bonus for people who had a bigger TV than ours - and if anything has been the hardest for him in his new law practice, it has been learning to tell people that he can't work for free)
7 He is an amazing father. A - MAZ - ING in capital letters.
8 He is a prodigy in the field of electronic gadgets and random musical instruments.
9 The thing that I have loved the most about him lately is that he is willing to admit when he is wrong and he is trying very hard to change.

But it isn't wrong to be anti-social and therefore I wouldn't feel like saying that is being critical.

And while I am still in my own defense. There may be only a handful of people as righteous as Job throughout all world history.