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.


  1. Sam and I don't argue either, but not for my lack of trying. I come from a really verbal family, where every emotion must be stated and all opinions/disagreements/frustrations must be hashed out. I never feel anything I don't say, at least to Sam. He, on the other hand, comes from a really quiet family who never really talk about, well, anything. And he's a peacemaker. Hence we don't argue. But man, if I was married to anyone else on earth, we'd surely have it out at least once a month!

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