My First Two Days Of Giving

Saturday July 6, 2013. Day 1: Saying Thank You

My sister is wonderful in so many ways, but one quality she possesses that I adore are her hand written thank you notes that she sends for everything. She mails them when you spend an evening with her, when you make a salad to share at a BBQ and for just about anything she finds gratitude in. Being a recipient is always a blessing and this inspired my first gift.

I have a challenging relationship with my in laws. There are times I am offended by them and times they are surely offended by me. I'm not sure I was their first choice for someone to marry their youngest son. When I began this challenge, I had an aha moment regarding my in laws. I felt an overwhelming need to thank them. They raised the man I married. A man who has always been respectful of me, has cared for me and treated me better than any man I have had in my life. He is a patient father, an honest businessman, and a consistent provider. My in laws raised the man I love today.

I sat down and wrote out a thank you card that I had bought at Target and after reading it over I proceeded to rip it into a million pieces. It wasn't perfect. I found another card in my desk drawer and tried again to perfectly portray my gratitude. My handwriting bugged me and the lines weren't even. I wanted to edit it a few hundred more times, but it was in pen and I had to let go of the idea of it being perfect.

As I dropped it in the mail, I remembered the feeling of receiving a thank you card from my sister and how powerful a small card with handwritten words can be. My in laws deserve to experience that joy, as well.

Sunday July 7, 2013 Day 2: A Rub Down

I went to massage school back when dinosaurs roamed the earth. There was a year when I worked as a therapist in Vegas, met my hubs and gave it up for a life of babies, cooking and mental breakdowns. There have been many times I have offered a back rub to my family, my kids and even close friends. There is one person who I know loves my back rubs more than anyone on the planet, my hubs. Here's the deal, he makes me crazy as the person on the table. He talks,  fidgets, moves the sheet, and makes inappropriate comments. (Funny, but inappropriate.) When he complains about lower back pain or sore hamstrings, I pretend I'm deaf or suggest that he find a massage therapist. Someone who is not me.

Yesterday, my man spent most of the day cleaning up the yard for a neighborhood gathering at our house. He even edged and cleaned up dog poop without me asking. We did a quick workout together and then he set up games for the kids in the front yard and played catch with our kiddos. While he wasn't initially thrilled with the idea of everyone coming to our yard, he socialized and laughed and inspired me. He deserved a gift.

I set up my massage table and gave him a gift that he is always asking for without him having to ask. He talked and fidgeted and drove me nuts, but I knew he was grateful. Gift two was a success and I learned something about me that I don't like; I put a lot of time and energy into relationships that aren't working and forget to nurture the ones that are. It's easy for me to forget those who are always here in order to impress the ones who never are. That bullshit ends today.

I'm Not An Expert, Just Ask My Husband.

I haven't always been fit. I'm not sure I would really consider myself fit now, but I am a hell of a lot closer to it than I have ever been. While making better food choices and starting to work out,  I have attempted to share tidbits of this information with my husband. Being diabetic and a few extra pounds overweight, I assumed he would be interested in my helpful hints. That's why we never assume, because it makes an ass out of you and then I want to hit you with my car. I think that's how the saying goes?

Me: "Wheat bread without all the additives is really great for you. White bread is the devil".
My husband: "Bread is bread."
Me: "Did you know that echinacea helps you get over colds and builds your immune system?"
My husband: "Did you know I like Nyquil and it actually works?"
Me: "Diet soda is white bread's evil cousin. Yeah, worse than the devil. Think about that."
My husband: "You just drank your weight in coffee, but thanks of the update Miss Health." Included eye roll.

I don't have a degree in nutrition and it is true that I have smoked for over fifteen years. While I never claimed to be an expert, I felt that 97% of what I was putting in my body was better than what my husband was shoveling down his throat. He ate fast food every day and washed it down with a gallon of diet soda. He believed that he was never going to get old and that he possessed the same metabolism that kept him fit in high school. Plus he was married, why did he need to look good? (He really said that.) Thanks, dick. While the scale continued on a regular incline, he wasn't planning to let his uneducated wife give him tips on nutrition. Clearly, I knew nothing.
Fast forward to this year and my husband's realization that he was 40 pounds overweight. Due to my deep love for him and the understanding that he was never going to listen to a damn thing I said, I bought him some sessions with a personal trainer. During his first week he joyfully skipped home with information that was interesting only to him.

"I am giving up diet soda. Do you know how bad it is for me? Empty calories, my trainer tells me."
"I am not eating fast food all the time. The calorie count in that stuff is crazy, like 2,000 calories for one meal."
"I need to eat smaller meals all day and focus more on healthy grains, vegetables and lean meats. Can we buy that stuff?" (FYI-That's all I have bought for the last decade.)
"My trainer suggested I take garlic and echinacea for my cold. Were you aware of the health benefits of garlic?"

I wanted to punch a watermelon and his trainer.  Was I aware? Yes, Tweedle Dee, that's what I have been telling you for years. This is not news to me, but I am curious how you have conveniently missed the hundreds of conversations we have had about these exact same issues. Here is where the disconnect comes in for my husband...I am not an expert. I am just a thirty something mom with a massage therapy license and a history of shitty jobs. In his mind, taking nutrition advice from me would be similar to allowing me to pick his line up for this year's fantasy football team. I have only unreliable information. There may be a list of things that I could give him advice on, but I admit to never wanting to find out what those would be. I imagine his list would consist of; scrubbing toilets, refilling dog bowls, shaving legs, wiping baby butts and picking up dog shit in the back yard. Funny, I don't have a degree in any of those either.

What I Learned This Weekend And Wine

After 13 years of marriage, I am always surprised when I learn something new about my husband or when he lends some insight into who I am. He knows be better than anyone. It happens in random spurts and when I least expect it. A couple of months ago, after years of riding on carousels with our kids, he informed me that he absolutely hates carousels and always has. This would have been helpful information to know when the kids were begging to ride on one and I thought he was avoiding it because he was being a cheap asshole.

This weekend we spent some time at Fisherman's Wharf, saw a game in Oakland and did some driving/drinking in Sonoma. He drove, I drank. Wine country was my favorite. After two tastings, a shot of sherry and a full glass of Pinot Grigio, I turned into Chatty Cathy and my husband and I began talking work and life purpose. He shared, I shared and then it happened. I told him how much I love writing, but how I'm losing passion because I don't have the thousands of people I wish I had reading my blog every day. I have a problem with patience. I compare myself to other writers. I see someone else doing it and I'm sure that since they've done it, there is nothing left for me to do. It's all down hill from there. Here is what my husband said "You give up way too easily. I see it with so many things you do and I don't understand it. You are an amazing writer so why would you give up now?' It was hard to hear because it was true. I lacked a trait. Perseverance. I've seen the billboard with some famous person on it and under their face, in gigantic letters, PERSEVERANCE Pass It On. No one passed it on to me.

I don't remember ever feeling that I could persevere. If I wasn't good at something right away, I was done. If I wasn't as good as someone else, I was done. I tried sewing and if what I made didn't look my mom's, who had been sewing for a couple decades, I decided I wasn't good at it. I tried debate class and there was someone who was better at it, so I quit. Then there was massage, which I was good at but never gave myself enough time to be the best at, so I stopped. My life has been pocked by one unaccomplished goal after another. I thought I wasn't funny because my husband said he was. There couldn't possibly be two funny people in one marriage. This sounds fucking weird, but I hid my sense of humor for many years because I felt that I couldn't compete with someone who proclaimed they were 'the funny one'.

This time, I am not giving up. I am learning perseverance. I'm researching the shit out of it, living it and passing it on. I have too many amazing humans in my life who see something great in me even when I don't. Thank god for that. When I don't want to write or update my blog, my husband nudges me until I'm so annoyed that I do it out of complete fucking irritation. When I am sure someone else is better at humor writing, my mom reads my blog and tells me that she has never read anything better. Ever. My daughter tells me weekly that she is proud of me and that she can't wait to be 18 so she can read my blog. For them, and one day for myself, I persevere.