NaBloPoMo Day 6: No One but “Mister”, No One But “Missus”…

Next year,  I will have been married for ten years. My husband and I have learned a great deal about each other, yet there is still much to learn. Ben works extremely hard each and every weekday (and Sunday) to make sure that I not only have what I need but that I have the means to get what I want. He frequently asks if I am okay and if he can help me if I seem stressed or tired (which is far more frequently than I like to admit). He continues to endeavor to learn my love languages and surprises me with little gifts now and again. He encourages me, tells me how proud he is of me, how glad he is that I am in his life.

I try to keep aware of Ben’s moods, ask if he is OK, if there is anything I can do to help when he is not. I endeavor to support him, uplift him, and encourage him through his teaching and pastoring work. I remind him all the time that I love him deeply and dearly, I am here because I choose to be here, want to be here, and I am not going anywhere.

We call each other helpmeet because that is what we are to each other: we are not only doing life together, we are helping each other through it, supporting and each holding the other up through times of life that are rough. We understand that there are periods of life when one will carry a higher percentage than another. Mine was when Ben was injured in a car wreck, his ankle in a splint/cast and him on crutches/a cane for four months. When I was pregnant, Ben took on a higher percentage of everything in life. Since having our daughter, he has taken on being the sole breadwinner for our family for the first few years of her life as I have been at home with her. We understand that there are periods of life when one will carry a higher percentage than another. However, that does not stop us from being grateful and wanting to make sure that we are doing whatever we can to help each other.

We have walked this road together for almost ten years. We are still growing, still learning each other as we age and grow and change along with life. We have made a great beginning together, I believe, and I am looking forward to the rest of our lives together.

Green top, black pencil skirt, and black fascinator 2


That Sneaking Feeling of Less

Warning: Vent incoming. Skip if you don’t want to read. This is intended for no one else’s edification/siphoning but my own. You’ve been warned.




Every day it’s something. Every day that I think I’m doing so well, I’m on the ball, and then someone says something or I read something and I suddenly feel…less. Less of a good wife, less of a good mom, less of a good woman.

I’m not perfect. I don’t get my decor and organizational ideas from Pinterest, I don’t do flashcards with my ten month old, I let her play with my phone (watch ABCs, 123s, and shapes on Apptivity), I watch TV and my daughter enjoys the news and talk shows, I don’t shop at the Farmer’s Market, my baby girl doesn’t take afternoon naps (they mess with bedtime and then she’s miserable), I don’t make chicken soup from scratch, and the list goes on. I am not fashionable enough to be an Elizabeth Street mom. I am not progressive enough to be called a hipster mom. I like being at home with Elizabeth better than I liked teaching someone else’s children; some might call that laziness or lack of professional/global vision. I haven’t kept up on my piano and flute practice and so my fingers are extremely rusty; some might call it wasting my talents.  I’m not as fit as I was before I was pregnant; according to the most recent viral trending photo, some might ask what’s my excuse (but that’s a whole other bag of worms; I’m actually rather glad for this lady in some ways).

There is so much that I am not that it sometimes feels like it overshadows what I am, and that’s hard. And it feels very painfully human, too. I hate feeling less. And no one does it to me but me. I know that. I don’t need anyone to tell me that. Doesn’t make it any easier to feel more. But tomorrow’s a new day and I’ll try to take a step forward again and find the joy once more. It’s really all I can do, yeah?