They're Growing Up

So, I've been on a bit of a video kick right now because...let's face it...I think they're pretty darn cute and just want to share that cuteness with all of you.  They're aren't all the most entertaining of videos, but they give you a good idea of what our days are looking like now :)

Grateful and Exhausted :)

I feel I owe it to those of you who are still reading, and you've followed me this long, so this shouldn't be news to you, to give you the truth.

Life is still rainbows and happiness.  I still stop and grin every time I hold or kiss one of my girls.  Katie continues to make me laugh and Hope is a joy in so many many ways.

But it is hard.

Don't get me wrong - I didn't think it would be easy, but two kids is definitely more than one :) (and my math friends should be so pleased with me for figuring that out).

Unfortunately, we haven't started our summer "schedule" yet as our pool doesn't open until June, so the days are a bit random right now - and if you know kids, you know that some sort of schedule is definitely helpful.  I assume things will get better when we can have a pretty close to standard schedule.  But things have not been bad - they've just been really really tiring.

The funny thing about work is - it really is a break.  It's a break from being mom or being with the kids, and as exhausting as it can be (or frustrating or elating), it is also a chance to just be yourself.  When you stay home with the kids, that sort of doesn't exist anymore.  I'm a bit nervous about the fact that I have three online courses this summer; balancing them and the kids may be tricky, but I can't say that we can't really use the money.

Hope and Katie are still an amazing pair.  Katie loves to help with her and to play with her and it makes my life so much easier.  I also can't stress enough how wonderful it is that Katie is pretty much (and really wants to be) self-sufficient.  She wants to dress herself and take care of herself and asks for help only when she has to.  It's both very helpful and sort of sad...I mean, it would be nice if she still needed me :)  But Hope needs me enough for both of them.  This is one spoiled little girl (and I mean that in a good way).  We hold her and play with her so often that she gets very upset when left alone.  We were very conscious with Katie to make sure she knew how to play on her own, but we worked so darn hard for Hope that we haven't been as good and conscious about it this time around.  So, we've created our own monster - but she's a darn cute monster :)  For now, it's not a problem, but there are times it would be nice to put her down and answer an email every now and then.

It's been unbelievably hot and that's been tricky as well.  Hope is supposed to stay out of the sun as much as possible since she is so little, but Katie loves running about in the sun.  I've been lucky enough to find places under trees for Hope and I to hang out so we can still watch Katie and help if necessary.  The other balancing act comes with meals and naps.  Katie still NEEDS a nap.  This is not negotiable.  I know she's getting to the age of outgrowing them, but she is not someone you want to hang out with if she doesn't rest.  I can typically get her down in time for Hope to wake up and vice versa.  Again - they're resting, so it's only one kid at a time, but I'm a bit tired.  I still have that terrible insomnia at night, so naps are a saving grace for me.  But...if they don't happen, I'll adjust.  It's just different.

The other thing is that when Hope wants to eat, she wants to eat five minutes ago.  You get no warning - just bloody murder screaming.  This means I have to frantically run to prepare everything - and typically that's the time Katie wants to eat.  Can't do both.  I'm learning to prepare one ahead of time so that only one meal needs to be made at a time.  Hey - I'll start to figure this out by August :)

Overall, things are going well.  Katie will be playing soccer this summer and taking swim lessons.  Brian and I are in a co-ed softball league on Tuesday nights that gives us some time to do something active (however, we have no sitters, so the kids come with us.  Only one parent on the field at a time).  I think that's the big issue - we just need to find some trustworthy sitters in the area so that every now and then we can go out for an hour or two.  We are never not with the girls, and, as amazing as they are, marriages need work too.  But again, I'm not worried.  We'll figure it out.  It's only been a couple of weeks.

Long story short - having the girls is ten times better than not.  And even when we don't get sleep, or a break, or quiet time, it's still exactly what I want out of my life.  Watching the two girls together is just the most precious time of my day and I am so thankful for it.

By the way - Hope has moved on to cereal and baby food at this point.  She's doing quite well with it.  She can sit up on her own, roll ALL over the floor (seriously - put her down in one room and she'll be in the other in moments), scoot backwards, and is trying out new sounds (Babababa and gagaga).  Every day is a gift, and I make sure to remind myself of that fact as often as I can.

Off the radar

So - we went down to visit my folks (and a really good friend with her adorable baby!) this past (extended) weekend, which was simultaneously nice and stressful.

It's always hard, I find, to visit my parents with my girls.  They are always watching and, to an extent, judging.  I know they don't mean to or to do it in a bad way (they only want to help, and I've reached the point in my life where I realize that while it may be dated, there is a LOT of wisdom in experience), but it's stressful.  When they don't act like they should or like I know they can, it upsets me because it feels like a reflection of my parenting skills.  But, overall, it is very nice to be there.

When we're there, I don't check my phone or email or computer and it's such a nice, and weird, feeling.  I've been working on trying to catch up with everyone's posts (both on Facebook and their blogs) and I've found that I'm pretty far behind all of you :)  I'll catch up.

Hope had her six month appointment today.  Everything is developing normally and going as it should.  She is 26 and a quarter inches long (65th percentile) and 15lbs 4oz (34th percentile).  Again - tall and skinny.  This should be no surprise at this point.  She did have to get three different shots for her vaccinations today and it was so much harder to see Katie than Hope.  Katie started crying and asked to leave the room.  The nurse and I tried to calm her down, but it was just so heartbreaking to see how she reacted to her sister's pain.  Especially considering she had her 4 year checkup last Tuesday and took her own vaccination with no tears or reaction at all.  She couldn't stand seeing them stick her sister or hear her sister cry.  It was lovely (in a weird way).

She was also an amazing big sister on the drive back.  Brian didn't go with us, so I was on my own with the girls.  Hope spent almost the entire car ride today leaning forward in her car seat to look at Katie and grin at her.  Katie kept telling her stories, making her giggle, and (most importantly) let Hope chew on her fingers (we may be teething :)  She just thought it was so cute and fun - and when Hope got upset, she fed her in the backseat. 

I'm so lucky to have a four year old who wants to help and who loves her little sister so much.  I can't say that I was ever that enthralled with my little brother(s), but the bond between the two of them is absolutely amazing.  Hope looks at Katie with such love in her eyes and Katie returns it.  They are a perfect (and trouble-making) little duo :)  I'm so proud of my girls.

The best and worst of my job

Of course, any administrative duties shoved onto me are highly unwelcome.  I did my time as teaching chair and only found out what I had already suspected - I don't do well in administration.  I don't want to deal with petty problems, observations, curriculum and the other crap that goes with those kinds of jobs.  Unfortunately, that little PhD at the end of my title makes the higher ups at my school keep trying to entice me into those roles.  Nope - not gonna happen.

I went to the community college to teach.  Not to administrate.  And I personally think it's awesome that I work in a department where so many of the developmental faculty have PhD's (or are working on them) - shows who we think are important in the school.

In any case, the end of the semester always brings out both the best and the worst in the part of my job that is most important: the students.  This is the time of year where they fail or pass - despite my best efforts.  I can't do the work for them or inflate their grades; they have to earn that A, B, or C.  But I have always believed in something our VP said my first year at the school: Nobody rises to low expectations.  I have very high expectations, but a low penalty environment - my students have a minimum of 3 chances at every major paper, which are 70% of their grade.  Those who take advantage will earn the grade they want, but I do require effort and true learning.

And then there are the sob stories.   Somebody died.  Somebody lost a job.  Somebody lost a baby.  Now they're unemployed with six kids.  They lost their house.  The bus raised its prices and they can't afford the pass.  The car broke down and they're in collection on their credit card debt.  While there are problems at the four year, I've never heard stories like the ones my students tell me almost daily.  And sadly, most of them are true...many of these students have such large problems to deal with, it's overwhelming.

There are amazing students who work so hard and strive for perfection no matter the cost.  Sure, it can be annoying to receive the twentieth email in a day from one student, but I can never fault someone for wanting to be clear and do the best s/he can possibly do.  Then there are those who never contact the instructor and simply disappear.  I try and try to contact or reach them and they just fade away and I never do.  There are those with perfect attendance who never turn in work and expect to pass - and vice versa - those who do all the work but never come to class.

Even the most obnoxious or lazy of these students is still a student that I care about and want to succeed.  I sound like the dude from Dead Poet's Society here, but if they're in my class, I want nothing more than to inspire critical thinking and curiosity in them.  Curiosity is the keystone to lifelong learning, and all I want is for them to want to learn.  Then they can do the rest.

I sound like a sappy hallmark card; I sat down with a student twice this semester and told him how bright and smart and insightful he is, but he just doesn't do the work or stay organized (so he forgets things at home and loses points).  But did he listen?  I wanted him to.  I want him to know how amazingly brilliant he is and will be in his classes - if he does the work.  But maybe he'll just continue on as he has.

I guess what frustrates me is that I was one of those students.  I'm not going to blow my own horn here and say I'm brilliant - I'm not.  But school always came pretty easily to me and I loved to read and write.  Not a problem.  Then I got to college and I was a terrible student.  I didn't pay attention in class; I didn't even go to class.  I was snotty and a know-it-all.  I would attend five classes out of a semester and then beg for extra credit because I was failing.  I would expect teachers to meet with me in office hours to catch me up when I overslept.  I was the quintessential horrible student.

I've also been on the other end and worked as a T.A for teachers with very high expectations - don't meet one requirement of the assignment = automatic fail.  Don't follow instructions = fail.  Absent = fail.

All I really want is to prepare these students so they don't do what I did.  I've been on both sides.  I've seen the classroom from the seat and from the board.  Unfortunately, it took me four years of almost mediocre undergraduate work and a year in corporate America to realize just how valuable education is.  I'd love to save these students the time and help them succeed now - the first time.

But I don't know that I would have.  I don't know that I would have behaved any differently no matter who taught me or what I learned.  Perhaps it's simply age and experience that give us this perspective...but I still hate the sob stories.  I wish that for every ten sad emails I got, I would get just one that tells me they had a good day or a good class (any class!).

That said, I cried (literally) to receive such a sweet message from a student:

Now that class is over I just wanted to send you a quick note about my experience with English 110.  I have taken the following classes on on-line over the last couple years, Cmpsc 120, Acct 120 & 121, Bus 215, Econ 110 & 110, Hist 201, Film 110, and Thtre 110. 

I was very nervous about taking the placement test for English and Math since it has been over 30 years since I have done either one. I finally took the placement test for English and then enrolled in your class. Looking over your agenda almost made me drop the class until I could enroll into a 16 week class.  Finally, I decided what the heck, go for it. 

The class has been the most rewarding so far for me.  You as my instructor, I cannot express enough, what a differences you made.  I have never had an instructor answer email or discussion boards so quickly.  Your feedback on my papers was so helpful. 

People in general, do not say the words thank you enough. I just wanted to say thank you for a great English 110 experience. My work load over the summer is going to increase and will keep me from enrolling in a class.  In the fall I have already enrolled in English111.  I was sorry to see that you were not teaching English 111on-line.

Thanks again and have a GREAT summer!

 Those few kind words make every day, every week, and every year so worth it! 

I am an idiot...

Not in any bad way, mind you.  Just your regular old run of the mill idiot.

I have decided that with every birthday you have....oh, let's say past 25...you should also be sent an instruction manual with what your body now can and cannot do.  Or at least a large warning label.  I mean, certain things are obvious - the older you get, the more a hangover will kick your butt.  The older you get, the more simple chores like moving or gardening will cause your muscles to ache.  No big deal.

However, when your body starts crapping out for no reason?  Not cool.

Let me just start by saying that my preferred method of sitting is (completely non-PC) indian style - preferably on the floor, but any kind of hard surface will do.  I sit on the big ol' teacher's desk in the front of the classroom that way, I got a bigger office chair for school so I can sit that way there during office hours, and I even made sure my rocking chair at home was big and comfy enough so I could do it at home as well.  I don't know why I prefer this - when I drive, I even tend to pull my left leg up on the seat close to me - it's just a weird habit thing, I guess.  This has become easier and easier as I have lost weight.

Good news?  I found out today that I'm a size 16.  5'7" and 214lbs.  I still have a ways to go to get under that 200 mark, but this is way down from my high in pregnancy of 260 (and yes, I just publicized my weight.  I did do that).

Bad news?  I had to go to the doctor with a sprained knee to find this out.

After spending a few hours grading in my rocking chair last night in my preferred position, when I went to get up my knee popped out of joint.  I hobbled up to my room, iced it down, and took some tylenol pm.  However, today it was still throbbing so I went to get it checked out.  They took some x-rays to ensure nothing was totally broken, popped it back into place, and wrapped it up tight.

I sprained my knee getting out of a chair.

*deep sigh*

So, what happens at 40?

The Best Day Ever...

I have a wonderful husband and two healthy, happy, and beautiful girls.  Thank you, God!

Wow!

First of all, I never anticipated it, but I loved the sharing that others did after my last post!  That was so awesome.  I think I'm going to do this more regularly, and I encourage you to share your own thoughts, posts, videos, songs on the topic.  I LOVED seeing what others had to share and it really made my day.

So, for today, I'm going to share the song that has just been haunting me lately.  It's not that it has any application to my daily life or that I'm having any emotional connection to it - it's just a song that I always liked and forgot about until Glee aired their version of it.  I now listen to it on my computer and my car and it just takes me back to the nineties...in a really good way.  I don't have a specific memory or feeling associated with it - it just feels...I don't know...homey?

What is a song that you like and don't know why?  What's your random connection to something musical or visual or in print?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KIUui9aAGBE

To Share

When I need a boost, this is where I turn to...

This is my God...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mzpnEi0ZXZo&feature=related

I think we all need a boost today.

Remember:
"Because I'm not good enough, He still loves me."

And I had to laugh...

Because I'm sitting in my office and totally grooving to whatever Pandora has going today (for whatever reason, they're actually putting together a pretty great mix) and I'm dancing in my chair.

Lady Gaga's "Born this Way," comes on and I start lip-syncing and dancing...I'm really enjoying myself.

And then a really funny thought occurred to me:  I was born this way - as a MTHFR.

I was born a motherf*&ker?  Seems appropriate in some ways...I think I may have to be more conscientious of the fact that this is who I am.  (I'm still giggling thinking about it...my mind is that of a 2 year old this close to the end of the semester).

My "I have no right to even wish" Wish List

In a perfect world, we would all get all of the things we want.  My world isn't perfect, as are none of yours, so there are "wants" I have - be clear - these are most definitely "wants" and not "needs."

I want to be thinner.  A 12 would be nice.  I have now gone from a 22 (almost 24) to 16ish and that feels pretty good, but I'd love to be a bit thinner.  At this point, I'm able to go into my closet every day and everything is too big and baggy - that feels pretty good (I'm not gonna lie).  I'd like to get to a 12 because that looks "healthy" on me (any smaller and I look sick and anorexic - and, I just don't think I can handle that kind of discipline).

Weight has ALWAYS been an issue in my life.  I can remember my mom harping on it in eighth grade.  I remember her putting me on SlimFast in high school.  I remember comments about myself in a leotard during a production of A Midsummer Night's Dream where she said it was good to see other "bigger" girls up there with me.

She never meant harm.  I know that now.  At the time, I didn't.  And she still means well, but her mind is still stuck in that mindset.  I try to not let it bother me, but, of course, it does.  I've accepted that I may never make her happy or myself happy, but I'll be damned if I let it happen to my girls.

I see Hope's semi-meaty thighs and it makes me wince.  She's still not even in the 50th percentile for weight, but it's so ingrained to me to hate fat that it makes me sad.  I express it and try to move on because I know it's silly.  But, please GOD - don't let me pass this on to my children.

I wish I could have a tummy tuck.  I have a tubby tummy that isn't going anywhere.  And thanks to two C-sections, it's completely numb.  I can't even feel it, but it hangs there in front of me.  It would be nice if it left.

I wish I could get rid of all the acne and acne scars on my face.  Unfortunately, part of my OCD led to me picking at it, and so I now live every day with the scars.  Of course, I'm still waiting for the day that my 30-something body decides that I have outgrown acne and pimples...still waiting.

I wish that I didn't have to take blood thinners.  I have had to resolve myself to the fact that I may not be able to wear a lot of my dresses in the future because my thighs and shins are so bruised by every single little bump and nudge that it looks like I've been beaten.  I may become smaller, but I'll never be able to wear shorter skirts or shorts.

Hmm...that's all pretty superficial, isn't it?  I guess if those are the biggest issues in my life right now, then I'm not doing too badly :)

Life is Truly Beautiful

Lol - if I continue down this path, I may become the hopelessly optimistic blog that no one reads because it's so unrealistic.

But it's true - everything about life is really and honestly beautiful.  The hard things are what make the good things even better.

Of course, I'm speaking from the other end of a lot of "hard things," and I know how very very dark and hopeless it can feel when you are enmeshed in those hard experiences.  But I keep writing to remind myself of how truly wonderful life can be.

I have two amazing little girls who, even when I want to throttle them, are the joy of my life.  Katie may be a bit too smart for her own good and may have A LOT of attitude, but I still adore her.  She's still an amazing little kid who says things that make me laugh and love her even more.  She lives to be a good daughter and sister and she is truly amazing in so many ways.

Hope may have colic and cry and fuss, but she's here.  And really, that's all that matters.  How can I complain about hours of crying where I have no idea what to do to calm her down?  In the long run, it really isn't that important.

My doctor, at one point, said that it's amazing that God sends us our children in a certain order for a reason.  I am slowly starting to realize that she is REALLY right.  I mean, if I had had Hope and the colic and fussy eating and erratic behavior first, I would not have had the patience and love that I have now.  I wanted this baby so much and worked so hard for her that even on the hardest days, I step back and smile.  My patience has increased as I never imagined it would.

Likewise with Katie.  She was early and didn't know how to eat and couldn't sleep.  She taught me the patience that is serving me so well now.  I honestly didn't realize what a big girl she was until we brought Hope home, but we've raised an amazing young lady.  She's smart, articulate, and loving.  Even when she acts like a teenager in the middle of a hormonal tantrum, she's one of the best things I've ever done.

My husband and I watch and care for these two beautiful girls every day and I stop to remind myself just how blessed I truly am.  I prayed for two healthy babies and I was so lucky to get them.  While I may be so tired I could simply collapse on my feet, and while many of my students think I'm on some substance because I'm so tired it's hard to form sentences many days, I would never EVER change a single thing.  My girls are a gift from God to my husband and I, and we remind ourselves of that as often as we can.

In the meantime, a big hug from Katie and a gummy smile from Hope are all I need in my day.  I'm happy to say that I have finally been able to begin to balance life and work (and a smattering of "friends" thrown in), and life generally looks good.  The sun is shining (and it's freakin' hot and humid), the grass and trees are green (and filling my sinuses with crap), and we are all healthy.  Being at a baby shower today and watching all the small clothes and little items reminds me of how far we have come in four years and how absolutely positively lucky and blessed we are to have this.  I can't express the sentiment in words because there really are no words.  God gave us what we asked for, and I will always be truly and amazingly grateful.

So stop - on your drive to work (some of us have a longer one than others - my 40 minute commute gives me ample time) and count your blessings or really look at the world around you.  Even after six years, I still notice new things on my commute and still find beauty where I hadn't seen it before.  Beauty is all around us if we stop to take notice.

Battling Organized Religion

I'm a Catholic.

Yup, I said it.  Can I say I'm a "practicing Catholic?"  I don't know.  But at so many moments in my life, I have found myself at odds with the Catholic religion...never more so than right now.  And it troubles me deep down to my core. 

To begin, let's get a bit of background here:

I grew up in a very "guilty" Catholic house.  What does that mean?  It means we do what we're supposed to because, if not, you'll go to Hell.  This involved NEVER skipping Mass (you had to be chucking toes up), fasting for an hour prior to Mass, no meat on Fridays, etc.  My brothers and I went to Catholic school throughout kindergarten and primary school.  We had all the sacraments we were eligible for (Baptism, First Communion, Reconciliation, Confirmation, and Marriage).  I had a full Catholic Mass for my wedding even though I was unsure about it (many in attendance were not practicing or Catholic).  My grandparents on my father's side are RELIGIOUS - my grandmother was sent to a convent at 15 and stayed there until she realized it wasn't the right path for her.

I love spirituality and I love faith.  I love God and Jesus.  I love being a part of a religious community.  But, increasingly, it appears that my community does not want me.  And I'm very torn.

First of all, while I was on bed rest in the fall, the Mass changed.  Not in huge ways, but in enough subtle ways and in enough prayers, responses, and actions that I now feel like a stranger in the one place I was usually comfortable.  There was something so reassuring and comforting in the rote responses and actions.  Some people may argue and say that you should be thinking about them and being an active participant, but I always felt it was more like meditation - a zone I could sink into and be peaceful.

Now I can't.  Every time I start to get into that zone, I say a wrong response or do a wrong action and it jars me.  It's very frustrating and I just can't pick up on it.  I know this happened before to people when the Mass went from Latin to English, but this is not dramatic enough - it's too subtle for me to remember.

But more than that...

There have been many articles in our bulletin about current issues - gay marriage, abortion, etc.  The new one, of course, is birth control.  A few weeks ago there was a double sided yellow handout in our bulletin that really hurt me. 

It was all about birth control - about how if you even work for a company that has a health insurance carrier that provides birth control, you are guilty.  How every employer is being forced to provide this immoral substance to others.

And I realize...in the eyes of the Catholic Church, I am going to Hell.  More so than I ever was before with birth control, I committed the ultimate sin: I had a tubal ligation.  Had I gone to St. Joe's to deliver, they would not have even performed the procedure. 

I knew this.  I thought about it.  But it wasn't until they came out with guns blazing with this handout that I realized how seriously this church thinks I've f*&ked up.

The God I know and love would, I'm sure, want me to be with my girls as they grow up.  He would want me to be a partner to my husband and a daughter and a sister.  Pregnancy and children aren't even the issue - the issue is that if I would unknowingly become pregnant at this point, there's a good likelihood it could kill me before we figured it out. 

But I can't bring myself to sit in church and know this is the common feeling or position of my religion.  I now feel like an outcast who doesn't belong.  And it makes me sad.  Being an academic, I've always fought and internally struggled with religion, but this feels like the first time religion fought back - and it feels like a sucker punch.

But more than anything...it makes me sad.  Religion should be love and acceptance - not rules, hatred, and distance.

Agreed.

Coming to Terms

I will never, ever complain about my life right now - I honestly have everything (and more) than I could have ever asked for.

That said, I do need to mourn a minute.  I need to mourn the dream I had of that family with three children.  This is the family that I always saw in my future, and, of course, now there is absolutely no way that will happen biologically.

I like to think that if it is meant to happen, we will adopt one day.  But maybe two is enough.  At this point, I don't know and I don't need to know.

But it is so hard to look at Hope and see how much bigger she is day after day.  To see that beautiful gummy grin and to know, any moment, there will be teeth in there...

To watch her roll over and know she'll be scooting, rolling, or crawling any time...

To give her cereal and baby food and know that our time with the bottle is ending...

I know that every stage of having a child is sweet and wonderful in its own way.  But, in many ways, I wish I wasn't as aware as I am.  I wish I didn't know that this was it - that these were my only two biological children.  I wish we had not made that choice...but, at the same time, I know it was the only correct choice to make.

I know we'll have another baby if we're meant to.  And I know that a year ago, I just prayed to have one more child, so now I sound incredibly greedy.  I'm not...but I feel I should be able to mourn that dream I've always had.

I don't want to hold my children in suspended animation - I want them to grow up, but at the same time, time is a beautiful and terrible thing.  Every day is more precious, but it is one day closer to the time where they don't want or need you.

But I won't think about that.  I will think about my husband and two precious babies...and my three amazing angels who have made this all possible.

The Hardest Thing I've Ever Done

It's a subject that comes up from time to time, but probably deserves (much more) than it's own post.  What is the hardest thing you've ever done?  I think about everything: having kids, not having kids, medical and mental health issues, pursuing degrees and advanced degrees, getting a job, etc.

The hardest thing I've ever done is be married.

Not get married.  Not being in love.  Not living with each other.  Be married - daily.  Every day for ever and ever.

People tell you it's hard, but they don't really tell you how hard.  It's not a matter of love or companionship or working together - it's so much more.  How do you wake up and have the same person around each and every day and keep things ok?  How do you continue to actively love the other?  How do you keep it from being repetitive or routine?  Those are all the big questions that I keep coming back to lately.

This comes to my mind for a very particular reason.  I was just watching my husband clean up the front room the other night and stopped to think about how much he does for me.  My husband does the shopping, cooking, and cleaning.  He pays the bills.  He repairs things and makes sure I have gas in my car. I know there are a lot of people out there who would kill for this - or even just one of these things, yet I take it for granted on a daily basis.

He wants me to focus on the things that are important to me.  He wants me to spend time with friends I rarely see.  He wants me to have enough time to work on my classes and help my students because he knows how important that is to me.  He wants me to play with the girls and read to them and go to their activities with them because he knows how hard I worked for this family.  He also understands that my job is different - I don't work 8-5 like most people - my hours are scattered throughout the 24 hour day.  I take on additional assignments for extra cash and I'm the big earner in the house - all of which he respects by taking on additional housework.

So, why do I say marriage is the hardest thing I've ever done?  Because I don't always take the time to realize how much he does for me.  We don't always remember to hug or kiss before leaving for the day.  We often hang up the phone with a cursory "love you" because there are other things going on that we're thinking about.  When we collapse at the end of the day, we don't take time to talk or spend time together or be together.

Because it takes work.  And don't tell me it doesn't.  If you don't work at it, then something else is going on there.  It takes work to recognize all the wonderful things that this other person does for you.  It takes work to stop and take a moment to give a hug or kiss.  It takes work to remember to stop, pause, and really mean "I love you" when you say it.  Work isn't a bad thing, but it is something that we tend to neglect or forget with everything else going on in life.

Not everything in life that is hard is bad.  Hard can be good - and in this case, it is.  We've been working at this for almost eleven years now and we're still finding new ways that we need to stop and think or figure things out.  I don't think that ever stops.  So, while it's the hardest thing I've ever done, it's also the most important.  Without my husband, I would not have my house or car.  (I would live in an apartment of some kind and would never have dared buy myself a car this nice).  I would not have a partner who helped me through graduate school and supported me during the agonizing job search and PhD process.  I would not have my two darling girls.  And I would not have my best friend.

It's good to take to remember that that's what he's always been above all else - my best friend.  It's worth the work.