Marriage is Hard.

Marriage is hard.

Because you know someone so well that you know all the right things to say. You know what will make them happiest and what will defeat them. So then, once you know that person, it's a conscious decision whether or not you're going to do the right thing or the wrong thing. If I know without a doubt that the one thing that will make my husband happiest would be to get up right now and wash dishes, then why am I not doing it? Because I don't want to? Because I'm tired? Whatever the reason, I am consciously making the choice to do something that makes ME happy instead of making HIM happy. So it's hard.

Is the guilt I feel when I realize I've spent the whole day not doing things to make Matthew's life better justified? I don't know. Maybe. Should every choice I make in life be made as a spouse instead of as an individual? Probably. Since I am a spouse, after all, and I did make that decision, actively and joyously about a year and a half ago. Because I'll have me for the rest of my life no matter what happens along the way. I'll always, at least, understand my own motives and what makes me happy. But a marriage is a living, growing thing that will start to wilt if we start to ignore it. And take it for granted as something that will always be there. If I want it to always be there, I need to be ready to consciously choose Wife Decision over Individual Decision.

So I guess what that means is I've got to put the laptop down and wash some dishes.

Gently!

No time for a real post, but I'm placing this gem here for posterity. Anyone, I mean anyone, who clicks on the Internets for things to make them giggle, should check out

www.harkavagrant.com

and you can thank me later.

Weekend Recap

The kids have left me for the afternoon [:(], and Matthew is at work until 8 PM, so here is the upshot of my weekend:

The dogs: have gone back to normal, praise the Lord. They have an appointment to discuss the future of their babymaking abilities, and in the meantime, we're playing it safe and locking them up separately at night.

The Princess Bride: has been on somewhat of a constant loop since we purchased it via Amazon Instant Video last night. It's on right now. I'm working on memorizing THE WHOLE THING weofuiaorigjao.

The Shrinkage of Space: is pretty high on the list of things we're not ready for. I need to be a whole lot more organized and a whole lot more positive about the situation. I moved a bit of furniture around today to get a better look at the whole situation, but the only thing that got me is frustrated about how much cleaning and organizing I should do with my free time. Meh meh meh. Still, I am grateful that there is a place with walls and a roof for me to put our belongings. That will always be good enough for me!

The Solo: Working on doing a song for church in the coming weeks. Any requests? I can't decide on what would be best.

The Runner: had a sort of personal record this weekend at the Depot Days 5k although it was not his fastest run to date. He did manage to win 2nd overall in the race though! And he still went pretty dang fast, even if he has run faster races before. I stood on the sidelines and felt tired, having been awake since 2:00 AM and whatnot. The kids ALSO ran a race that morning, and one of them enjoyed herself quite a bit. I think she might do it again one day. The other..well, let's just say he has a long time before he considers trying another one. All hope is not lost, though. We shall give him a year or two and perhaps try it again, maybe with a bit of practice this time. We need to have a real life talk about "saving his energy," which is the reason he claims that he never does any physical activity if he can avoid it. I think we will maybe all go to the park and point out that it actually helps to be active all the time, in order to have more energy for the saving. Sigh. It doesn't help that we live in a dog-infested neighborhood where any outside fun at all pretty much mandates a drive to the park. #nomoneynogas

Other than these particular items, we've had a very regular weekend! The kids' little half-brother, Hudson, came over to play twice because he misses out on all the weekend fun with them, and sometimes that is sad and they all miss each other. Luckily, that's something we are allowed to choose and schedule ourselves, because he is a five year old handful and not something we would be up for every weekend! However, he is pretty cute, and good to hang around every now and then.

Now, I must go and finish finding out what happens to Wesley in the Pits of Despaaaair

More changes coming down the pipes

When 2014 began, I remember saying to Matthew that this would be a year full of changes and new experiences. Oh, how little did I realize the truth in that statement. It would be perfectly fine by me to just skip the next three months altogether and dive headfirst into 2015. I want to say it might be easier, or at least feel more purposeful. We will be motivated by settling things down and solidifying our place in this town instead of going through the motions until The Degree is finished. We will no longer be "newlyweds," but now just "regularlyweds," or uh..."oldlyweds." We might get to be on the same health insurance plan (most depressing life goal, like, ever), pay off a car (or at least get closer to it), and move out of this God forsaken building.

Got a little distracted, sorry. I wish this year could just quit already. So many things have arisen to be handled and sorted in the last week or so that I am surprised I'm still standing. It will all be kept fairly confidential in the next few months, but I hope sometime between now and Christmas to let my feelings be heard with a little more clarity (about all the things going on). In the meantime, watch this space.

Ouch

My shoulder hurts so bad I can't breathe. I wish the Aleve commercials were a better depiction of reality.

One of the eggheads

Today, after spending my usual 1 to infinity hours in Dr. Hill's office, I tagged along to an academic lecture on Thomas Aquinas being delivered by a UTM philosophy professor. And boy oh boy did I feel smart. Well, at least, the language Dr. Brown used wasn't way over my head, I followed the Q's in the Q&A session, and my attention span gave out around the same time as the two professors with whom I had come to the lecutre. We all three gave up on listening after being there for an hour and fifteen minutes and instead focused on attaining the refreshments in the back of the room.

All in all, it was a very successful afternoon. I was glad that I lollygagged around after class for long enough to catch the local nerds heading over to the lecture; otherwise, I would have missed out on the opportunity to feel like I could actually someday maybe be these peeps' intellectual equals. In fact, I will officially be on an equal playing field (Sort of, sans PhD and whatever) as these very egg-headed men in just 88 days. But who's counting? Today I told someone that the day after graduation, I will be coming up to the university with a sole purpose of calling every professor by his or her first name and not feeling weird about it. Except maybe Hill and Glass...might still feel weird about them, but at least my family's cool with referring to their family by first name and the two of them as Dr. Lastname.

In other news, my dogs may kill each other before they can ever successfully procreate. Skippy is the most hapless courtier I have ever met...could have something to do with being a chihuahua.

Sleep is taking over my brain, and I apologize if this is incoherent. I didn't want to leave my friends and family hanging, now that I'm reintroducing the regular blog posts.

Another tier of the Animal Kingdom

Or..."He and she, baby, ain't nothing but mammals, so..."

Our girl dog, Lilo, is 9 months old. She's not a girl, not yet a woman.

We love her very much. She can't wait to put her face on our faces as soon as we walk in the door, and she's even learning to walk on a leash (something that is completely unnecessary in our neck of the woods, but someday we could live elsewhere that has more call for leash walking). However, she's beginning to appear particularly desirable to our boy dog, Skippy, who is 6 years old and hasn't had a girlfriend in the two years that we've had him. Needless to say, his appetite for romance is fairly insatiable.

Matthew and I, the concerned parents, are about ready to lock them both out of the house and not let them in until they've sorted out their differences. Lilo is apparently still too young to realize her feminine prowess, so she just stares at Skippy like he has two heads every time he tries to get --ahem-- intimate. Lately it has begun escalating to retaliation; Lilo gets her teeth out and says, (in not as many words) "GET OFF OF ME YOU'RE GROSS AND OLD."

The blossoming relationship is amusing, though a little gross, to watch. It will only be permitted to last until we can get one or both of them to the doggie doctor for a little operation. Then, hopefully, things will settle down a little bit and we can go back to normal.

BugsBugsBugs

It's kind of hard to post this update because it makes me feel like our house must be disgusting, but this morning was straight up swallowed by the events I'm about to describe. It couldn't not be mentioned.

When Matthew and I finally got out of bed (now that the kids are old enough to keep themselves occupied for a few minutes after they wake up, Matthew and I have become the real-life laziest people in the world. For me, this means I sleep ALL THE WAY UNTIL 7:30 AM. So sad. So so sad.) there were

WORMS....

Coming out...

OF THE FLOOR.

We spent the better part of the morning squishing, vacuuming, and cleaning our floor to try and understand where the stupid wormy larvae bug things were coming from. Eventually, they stopped coming from the walls and we forgot about them. I think that was probably a great idea because now we'll be equally surprised and grossed out the -- gulp -- next time things start crawling from inside our walls.

PS. We don't think it's termites. Matthew and his mom are betting on flour bugs. Still gross. Still wriggling out from the inside of my house.

Next morning edit: There were more when I woke up this morning, so apparently our spraying efforts were somewhat fruitless.

Re-establishing our Priorities

After a kind of sad and distracted day yesterday, we wanted to start this morning with a fresh perspective on how important this family is to us. The day began with Lara's gymnastics class, which was enjoyable as usual. Matthew worked at Autozone from 6:45-12:00 this morning, so we waited for him to get home and then hit the road for good ole Martin. In training for his St. Jude marathon in December, each weekend comes with a long-a** run. We his family love to support his running endeavors, but it's a lot easier to do so when there's a fun playground nearby to play on while he runs forever and ever.

After Daddy ran and ran and ran and ran, we drove to the UTM pool for a quick dip to cool off (after all, it was a sweltering 70 degrees out today...). Speaking of which, many thanks to the Hill clan for letting us borrow towels. We weren't feeling very clever as we drove up to the Martin pool, a good 35 minute drive from our house, and realized we were fully prepared for an afternoon of swimming, bar towels. After swimming, pizza. After pizza, passed out kids on the car ride home. It was a simple sequence of a perfect family day out. Today's antics helped me to remember that these guys are half the reason I married Matthew-- Matthew being the other half of the reason-- and that we can, as always, make the best of a difficult situation.

As usual, I thought about a lot of things. Most of them verging on the pessimistic. Most of them are probably best left unpublicized because I can never be sure who reads these posts. 

In other news...

I am the Face of UTM. It's about time! I've been waiting two years for someone to realize I'm, like, super important.

Anger

Today I received some news that made me so angry and that I can't really do anything to improve or change. It's one of those things that really feels like a punch in the gut even though I know the person responsible does not, in fact, have a vendetta against me (well, not that I know of). One of those things where I am furious at someone even though I know they did nothing wrong or even anything with any intention of hurting someone.

But I feel hurt. I feel as if years of my life are going to be spent wishing and waiting for something that comes without even trying to millions of other people. I feel like someone is rubbing my face in the fact that I'm not part of an elite club that actually 85% of the population is supposed to be allowed to join. I feel angry because it's not my fault; in fact, it's specifically the fault of someone else.

The worst part of this is that I know I have no choice but to swallow my anger and move on because it's not my fault, but it's not really anyone else's fault either. It's just life. It's just how things are going to be. And I'm going to get used to life in this tasking new way. And every time I look back on this day, I'll probably feel kind of angry and then tell myself that anger doesn't help anything. Anger just is.

If someone had to ask me what my greatest trial in life is, this might be it. I might have to go with this one. Ask me again in forty years.

Loner in the Library

This is the first time in a year that I've been on Martin's campus after 6:00 PM, and I don't even have anyone to eat dinner with me. I look pretty amazingly cool, sitting by myself in the library eating a chicken salad pita pocket. All the other kids are simply aware of how cool I really am, so they're giving me space and that's why the library is empty. Admittedly, this place is sort of depressing when it's totally cleared out. In a nice way, too, though. Plus, I have a pita pocket, which I think comes in the Rule Book under the section "Instances in Which you Always Win, No Matter What." It goes something like this:

1. Anytime you're eating out of a pita pocket.
2. When you spent your weekend at a petting zoo.
3. When your washing machine doesn't mildew your clothes even after the advisable period for leaving a load in the washer has long since passed.
4. When you're required to audition for a play as part of a class even though you have already told the professor there's no way you have time to participate. Oh, and it also helps if auditions run until 9:00 PM on a school/work night.

Wait a minute, how'd that last part get in there? Well, speaking of play auditions, that's why I'm still here on campus after 6:00 PM, chilling in the library like a loser. I've already had to audition to get into the class (It's Advanced Acting, I needed to prove I am advanced because transfer student), so now I get to do another audition for the same professor for a show that I told him I can't be in due to my schedule with work and the familia. But ya know, whatever. 

#spaceballs

Isn't it pathetic that 9PM seems ludicrous (I could make another Spaceballs reference here but I am refraining by doing some restraining) for me to be out gallivanting around town? I used to stay up like a normal person. Aghhhh. Only 94 more days until commencement! It can't come soon enough!

Going to go read all of the books because what are libraries for?

-Mrs. Mary Mac

Depths of Despair

Can't you even imagine you're in the depths of despair?
No I cannot. To despair is to turn your back on God.

Cheers to Anne and Marilla for the lovely intro to my blog post. And speaking of which, anyone who watched (or read, though the visual aspect is less...visual) Anne of Green Gables as a child and says they did not want to find their own Gilbert and break a chalkboard lovingly over his head is just lying to herself. Gilbert is the Noah Calhoun of my childhood years.

Anyway.

I'm really not in the depths of despair...mostly the depths of confusion. About what to do next and which page to turn first. My life is more like a Choose-Your-Own-Adventure book than Lucy Maud Montgomery's series, and I have to decide whether to start at the end of the book or to plod through in the most logical order.

The good news is: I know precisely what my life dream is. Myself being the Jill of all trades that I am, I did not expect to ever have some kind of enlightening moment in where I need to do my entire life's work. All my life, it just came naturally to be good at whatever school kicked my way; I expected careers to come as easily, and there was no particular field in which I had a vested interest. How would I ever choose one thing to be passionate about? Whatever I do, I do passionately. Choosing a career would be synonymous with taking whatever job seems most appealing at the time of graduation.

Until the day I began working as a tutor for the UTMartin Writing Center. I hadn't even tutored a single student yet when I felt a click. There was no Common *bleeping* Core, no state standards, no syllabus, no dang attendance sheet or floor plan to keep me from showing everyone around me that I. Love. School. And as soon as the first student came up to see me, that's what they got. They got me explaining that grammar is important, especially since you're in college now and you're going to love it here so much that you won't accept anything less than your best. They got me for a cheerleader and coach and the person who could give the most honest (but nice, y'all, I still like all my teachers) recommendations, warnings, and advice regarding their professors.

Because really, what could have made you a better student in your first year at college? Would it have helped to see someone who loved it there so much that they practically moved into their department study area? Uh, yeah. Am I weird? Yahs, but I like to think it's in a refreshing way.

So the question that remains, hanging in the air like the scent of garlic still permeating my house after a delicious batch of chicken Alfredo last night (that's a simile, kids, see? There are lessons to be learned everywhere.): to grad school or not to grad school? I know that Writing Centers are the final destination for me, and most colleges require a MA in English or related field in order to become a director of a writing center. So, do I take the plunge now and get a Master's so that I can begin a job hunt for a director position? Or, do I continue working (Heaven only knows how many hours, but it wouldn't be a whole bunch, so I'd be rocking that two-job swag) in the UTMartin Writing Center where I can at least guarantee comfort, happiness, and seeing my favorite people everyday (Considering I see my most favorite person every day anyway, this would really only add a handful of people [and by handful I mean two] to my daily seen individuals, but two is worth it when they are so very splendid.) but will probably not get any closer to being offered a director job?

This is the direction I'm leaning. First, I don't want to leave this place. A Master's Degree suggests that I have to work closely with some professor who isn't anyone near or dear to me, and that suggests rubbish. Second, I don't have enough experience in a Writing Center to just set sail and throw resumes at people (because ouch, that is super rude. Imagine the paper cuts.) and hope for the best. Third, Matthew deserves the opportunity to do something besides work at a job that he hates for much longer.

December, here I come, then! To bigger and better things I will continue. Except probably not a Master's degree right this second. But maybe.

I DON'T KNOW, NOAH. I JUST. DON'T KNOW.

The depths, I'm telling you. Depths of confusion.

Okaybyeeeee,

mrs.mac