Tuesday, May 25, 2010

Mommy, Daddy, Baby

I laid on the floor with Ender and watched "Barnyard" with him...it was kind of a weird movie, nothing impressive.
But there was a part where the main cow's dad dies (sorry to spoil it for you), and Ender looked at me with teary eyes and a heart-breaking little frown--the kind you get when you're about to sob, you know?--and said "Are dey a'right?"
Oh, Ender...
I almost said "Yeah" but I couldn't. I started to get choked up myself, however dumb the movie. Ender at least understood that it was a daddy and a "baby," and he understood that something happened to the daddy... I had to cough and look away to keep my tears from crashing through the floodgates. I finally said "The daddy is hurt."

I don't care how stupid the movie was; I will not call it a waste of my time, because Ender really liked having me next to him. He rested his head on my lap, he enjoyed a "picnic" on the blanket we set out in front of the TV. And I enjoyed how sweet and sensitive he is.
And...well, the movie did make me laugh just a few times.
I love that Ender will call a group of toys "Daddy pwane, Mommy pwane, baby pwane!" I'm so grateful that the pattern of a family is not only recognizable but necessary for him. I wish every baby could have that wholeness.

You know how many movies have broken families? I know why...it started as a way of reaching out to the less-than-perfect people so they'd relate to the movie and feel accepted...and now it's considered normal. Having both parents is now pretty unusual in a movie, and MORE unusual is having both parents get along well. I like to hope that what's shown in movies isn't really everywhere in the world, but sometimes I feel like it's less and less common.

Michael and I have never fought. Truly, we've never even argued. What's the point? It's not worth it. Besides the fact that it's simply not in our natures to be like that (since that point can become moot in the situations where we do things against our natures--which like anyone, we do...like, it's totally against my nature to harm my body, but sometimes I eat a whole bag of mini Milky Way bars. Yes, sometimes. Not just once or twice).
Um. I lost that sentence.
Besides the fact that it's simply not in our natures to be like that we understand that there's a faster, better, and in the end, EASIER way to resolve misunderstandings.
First of all, I'm grateful that Michael and I work on the same wavelength concerning how we raise our family, manage our lifestyles, and repent over little things like eating whole bags of mini Milky Ways. We're so very similar in character. It's wonderful.
Secondly, when we have miscommunications, it's okay. It happens! It happens often enough because he's a man, and I'm a woman. Whoa. Species juxtaposition? (Just kidding) But we've built it into our minds that when that happens, we automatically forgive each other, because honestly, we each thought we were doing the right thing. And that's sweet. That's romantic, even, to me.

Michael and I like to sometimes say "I have a confession..." and finish it with a teensy weensy thing that's nowhere near Confession Boundaries. But it's handy; it's become a tender thing for us, so when we actually feel guilty about something that's less cute than eating a bag of chocolate, it's easier to begin with "I have a confession..." and immediately, we just can't harbor ill feelings. And for whoever's confessing, those words alone lift more than half the burden, and suddenly you want to explain all your feelings.
It's so healing for a relationship. Communication--especially REcommunication after MIScommunication--is absolutely necessary.

I'm so grateful Michael and I have a beautiful marriage. It makes life rosy, charming and happy, even while we go through harder times. Michael helps me be better, and I help him be better. I'm a good Mommy for Ender when I have Michael's help...I'm sure Ender is grateful he has nothing missing in this little family. I know I am.

Monday, May 24, 2010

More Like INTO the Shoulder

This reminded me of Lynnae's Over-the-Shoulder experience...

Last night while I was making cookies with Michael, he got all flirty on me and decided to take charge Caveman Style.
He threw me over his shoulder! One swoop, and *plop* he had me. Only, it wasn't exactly romantic, because he has really broad shoulders (great if I wanted a shelf to drape myself over), and one of them ended up crammed into my gut.
I grunted and complained and protested in gasping barf-threats while he jogged me down the hall till he finally released me in a toss to the bed.
At least it ended with us both laughing!
Somehow, those romantic cliche things always seem to go bad for us--and we think it's hilarious. We really have to stick with our own brand of Romantic.

In other news:

The bunny is boinging in circles around my feet, and I thought it was perfectly adorable until just now I discovered a little pooplet by my ankle. Blech, Foofoo! I have a toilet for that kind of thing! I just might throw you back into your little stairs-cage in the snow!

(Speaking of pooplets, want to hear about my stinky morning?)

Tuesday, May 4, 2010

Story Telling

Ender turned off the TV in the middle of his Charlie and Lola movie.
So it was over!
When I tried explaining this to him, saying "Well, you pushed the button, so it's done!" he said:

"Nooo... I dinnit. Babybugs push button."

I don't think so, Ender. But you make me laugh.

A Meme: Picture This

I'm finally getting around to continuing the meme! Rae tagged me...and here's how it goes.

Here are the instructions:
1. Go to my Pictures.
2. Open the first folder.
3. Post the tenth picture and tell about it.
4. Tag 4 people.

I had to alter the rules just the tiniest bit, because my first folder didn't even have ten pictures...I like to be very organized about how my photos are stored in the computer. And if I open it from the computer's file, everything's in alphabetical order (but from Blogger's image uploader, it's not). So here is the picture we end up with:

The Story

Do you see the jagged layer of hair in the mirror? That's a bad haircut.
Actually, it's an adorable haircut...

...that's growing out very, very badly. It drove me nuts. I hated doing my hair, so most days, I looked pretty gross. :D
That first picture (le meme de la subjet) is me on the way to get my hair fixed (by my wonderful hairdresser/visiting teacher, Rachel--who was so very patient with my strange tresses).
Almost every time I wear a dress or skirt, Michael wants to take a picture of me. It's very flattering. It makes me like dressing up (and I like dressing up for haircuts...and shopping...and really, I just love dresses--which is not how I've always been, no way).

The Happily Ever After is that I'm happy with my hair and have vowed (once again) to not cut it short because I'm simply not a short-hair-person. My hair grows so fast anyway that to really keep it short and cute would mean a LOT of haircuts.
Sometimes when it's hard to fall asleep, I think wistfully of having long hair again...perhaps this summer it will qualify as "long" again...(and in the meantime, I really have fun styling my hair).