Every Marriage Matters ~ Guest Post by Terri

It’s a big day! Everyone, please meet Jen’s mom Terri, our special guest blogger. She has been married to Ted for almost 46 years, and together they raised Jen and her two brothers, which was no small adventure. Now there are 8 grandkids begging her to retire from her impressive health care career.

We are so proud to have her here today, with such an important message about marriage.

I ran into you at church and asked, “So where is Dave today?” You said, nonchalantly, “He is not here. We are getting a divorce and he is going to another church now. ” Trying to discern your mood I said, “Oh Beth, I am so sorry. “ You looked me in the eye and said, “No big deal. It doesn’t matter.” Then you walked back towards your car and left.

I stood there shocked and pondered your announcement and your response. As a believer in marriage, committed to my husband for over 45 years, I felt so sad. Sad that your marriage was ending but just as sad because you think it doesn’t matter. Every marriage that fails impacts those of us who are married.

I remember when the first of our friends announced that they were splitting up. We had been married about 10 years. We got caught up in their battle and started arguing ourselves. We each felt that there was this little voice saying “Whoa, if it can happen to them, maybe it can happen to us.” We finally shared that fear and realized that our relationship required increased vigilance and constant attention and that we were NOT going to let that happen to us.

So your broken relationship does matter very much to those of us who are committed to loving and living together for the long haul. It is a little bit of failure for all of us.

I have thought about you so many times since that day. And I have thought about my own children, all of whom have been together with their spouses about 10 years. What issues are they facing and what could I say to help them understand the value of their married relationship?

Some critical things came to mind.

Every married couple needs to remember that they are the primary relationship. Their family started with just the two of them. The children will grow up and fly away, as children are meant to do. And the couple needs to be sure that they have nurtured their marriage. There will be crazy, busy times: crying hungry babies, work deadlines, PTA meetings, running from practice to scouts to dance recitals. But when things get too hectic or too distant, one of them needs to say “Stop. I miss you and need your time and attention“ There is nothing like hearing that from the person you love most.

The marriage also matters to the children. It is hard for them to overhear the arguments but it really hurts trying to tell their friends that their parents are divorcing. It is painful to hear their parents talking poorly about each other, to live in two homes, carrying precious belongings back and forth. And it is even worse to feel like a prize in a carnival game, where the winner gets the most and best days.

When I was 28, a married mother of 2, my Dad left my mom. I was devastated! I cried and cried and raged at him for hurting my mom, for not being willing to stay the course, for separating himself from me and my family, for giving up. Over time they resolved their issues after long and intense counseling but it was a painful and difficult time for all of us and I was an adult, beyond depending on them for food, shelter and support anymore.

So separate is not necessarily better for your kids unless the living situation is riddled with fear or abuse. They just want to feel safe, happy and together, not drawn into your “stuff”. They want peace in a unified home.

And marriage matters to your married family and friends. It impacts those who love you, watch your life splatter and feel your pain. It hurts those who thought it was a relationship to emulate and are shocked to find that it was not. And what about your unmarried friends and relatives who still have hope that there is a great person out there for them? They lose a bit more of their hope and anticipation. They want the marriage, the long term relationship but become fearful about making a commitment because they see your pain and are disenchanted.

What could you have done?

I don’t know much about your relationship and my perceptions may be all wrong. I have only seen you in our church setting. But you two seemed to have so much going for you. And if there has been substance abuse or physical or mental abuse, these words do not apply. But if you have just drifted apart I would like to tell you some things I noticed. When you spoke about him to others you often did so without respect. You poked fun at him when you told stories about the things he did. I know, I know, a lot of people do that—it helps to be able to unload on someone uninvolved and he laughed, too. But when you talk disdainfully about someone often enough, eventually you start believing that they really are stupid and worthless. Instead of affirming him, you ridiculed him and no one can take that for very long.

I also noticed that you both seemed to choose activities with your friends over activities with your spouse. I heard you talking after church about activities and trips with friends, not spouses. I saw pictures of you on Facebook and it always seemed that you had an entourage of girlfriends and family. Where was your attention? Who was prime in your life?

Your commitment to your children is obvious but you made a vow to commit to your marriage. If you don’t pay attention, your partner becomes a stranger. You cannot put “spouse-ing” on hold while you do 20 years of parenting and expect to find a happy spouse waiting with open arms. Not too many people thrive when they feel second or third in your life all the time. And it is so true that the best gift you can give your children is to love and honor your spouse.

I think you are a caring woman, an amazing mother and a committed friend to many. I care about you and pray for you to have whatever you want in life. I will support you in everything that I can. But I want you to know that the demise of your marriage does matter to many of us more than you may ever understand.

Ted and Terri, 45 great years kater — Ted and Terri, 45 great years later

Terri and Ted have done Marriage Preparation and Marriage Enrichment classes for the Archdiocese of Los Angeles for twenty years. They can be reached at dostee245@gmail.com

Ten Years

Ten years is a long time to be married to someone. –Gwyneth Paltrow

Dear Gwyneth,

I’ve been married ten years in November and it has gone by in a silly blur. When we got married, my nephew Wyatt was a tiny bump under his mom’s bridesmaid dress. He’s going to be nine in June—nine! Behind him came seven more grandkids in seven years and all of them are now walking and talking.

I don’t feel like I have aged a day, even though there’s a whole lot of gray hair and twenty extra pounds that give a lie to that story. Shea is thinner than he was on our wedding day, but the gray ghost has caught him by the chin and we’re going to make a lot of money in retirement hiring ourselves out as Santa and Mrs. Claus for parties.

We still fight over the same stupid things we fought over when we were dating. And we laugh at the same stupid jokes. Sometimes we look around at our three kids, two dogs and home that we’ve lived in for almost all of those ten years and say to each other “When did we become grown-ups?”

Before, I prayed for and waited almost patiently for this life. The last ten years have not always been joyful and we have faced some dark valleys, just like everyone else. But even when those folded up socks in the laundry make me want to scream and throw Shea over the mountain, I am grateful that he has given me this life.

So I don’t think ten years is a long time to be married. Not when we’re standing in the shadow of our parents, who have been married 30 and 46 years respectively. Not when I witnessed both my grandparents’ 50^th wedding anniversary celebrations. Not when some of my closest friends, who are our age, have been married 24 and 19 years. Compared to them, we’re still rookies!

And Gwyneth, this idea of “conscious uncoupling” is dangerous. If it was a way to divorce without anger and resentment and with the children’s emotional and psychological health intact, I could get behind it-ish. We don’t speak divorce in this house, but there are legitimate reasons for it to happen.

But that’s not what you’re saying. You’re saying you got tired, distant, bored. That you’ve had enough and there isn’t any more you can learn from each other. That it just isn’t working.

You’re not saying much else, so we don’t know the nuts and bolts. And normally I would say that it’s not our business, except that the conscious uncoupling made it our business.

You want reform the definition of divorce and hide behind the “science” that humans are living longer and are not psychologically or emotionally equipped to be married for decades. That we should stay in our marriages as long as they have something to teach us, and then, like graduating from college, move on to the next experience with no guilt, shame or sense of failure.

Without even a nod to the mountains of research that tell us what divorce does to kids.

Look, if you aren’t willing to work on it, if your anger is too big and your ability to forgive too small, that’s fine. We’re human and we understand those emotions. We’ve all felt a like a five year old at one time or another.

But own it. Say that you have failed, let down your families and your children and yourselves. Be humble. Don’t whitewash it, like it isn’t a trauma.

And keep this conscious uncoupling stuff to yourself. You are entitled to your delusions. But don’t call my marriage and the marriages around me “exceptions” to your delusion, because we aren’t. Most marriages that make it ten years have more resilience in the long run. Not yours, I get it, but who knows what could have happened if you hadn’t put a limit on it before you even started.

Don’t drag the rest of us into it, even though misery loves company. We aren’t faking it, or denying ourselves personal growth by staying with our partners. We’re still learning and growing and our endoskeletons are just fine, thank you very much.

Jen

PS: You’re on a roll, with your conscious uncoupling and your comments about regular working moms, and not in a good way. I have found that when the world seems to be against you, that’s more about you than the world. Might be time for a rethink. Just sayin’.

When the (Disney) Queen is Right ~ Jen

I’ve heard everything feminists have to say about Disney Princess culture and I get it. I really do. I’ve seen it in my own home. Sometimes Kate puts on that Belle dress and the Beast comes out, all imperial orders and commands.

No one will be shocked to hear that my daughter roars right past princess to Queen.

But the last two Disney princess movies have been different. In Brave, Merida is the tomboy of all tomboys, with her riotous curly hair, and she takes a pretty strong stand against her mom turning her into a proper princess. She has to come of age, because she makes a mess, but then she cleans it up. She fights for her own honor and there is no handsome prince in that movie at all, unless you count the triplets.

When Kate wears her Merida dress, she charges out into the cul-de-sac to ride her bike, her arrows slung over her shoulder, singing “I will rise! I will fly! Chase the wind and touch the sky! I will rise! Chase the wind and touch the skkkkkyyyy!”

Now we have Frozen, with its amazing soundtrack. Most of you know what I’m talking about. But if you’ve been in a hole for two months, go to Youtube and search “Let it go”. See what happens next.

Kate got an Elsa dress for Christmas, of course, because Elsa is the Queen and Anna is just her princess sister. She has memorized the whole soundtrack and for a while, she sang Anna with her purer soprano while I sang Elsa. But then Kate decided that Let It Go was the best thing in the history of ever, and my solo became a duet.

Or she sings it alone. Like the other day, while I was cleaning the kitchen and she was cleaning up her toys in the loft. This is what I heard:

Let it go, let it go!

I will rise like the break of dawn!

Let it go, let it go!

THAT PERFECT GIRL IS GONE!

Here I stand in the light of day!

Let the storm rage on

The cold never bothered me anyway

And I thought Oh yes, my sweet girl. When the world asks you to be perfect, bombards you with false images and makes you feel like you aren’t enough, I pray to the good Lord that you will rise like the break of dawn and make your stand.

Learn from Merida that you can’t selfishly disregard your responsibilities as a member of our family, our community, our world. And learn from Elsa that you should never hide your magic to be what others want you to be.

Sometimes that will be easy. And sometimes you will have to fight against the storm.

In these two movies, there is no happily ever after. There is no guarantee that a few songs and dances have earned Merida and Elsa charmed lives. They only climbed the first mountain, of accepting who they are and what that means. And that’s something we all have to do.

PS: Before anyone says “But the Disney characters bombard little girls with false body images, I saw that article on HuffPo that pointed out that Anna’s arm was thicker than her waist and what is UP with their eyes??” I asked Kate about that. “Does Merida look normal to you?” I asked “With those great big eyes?” She looked at me over the top of her glasses like I was the silliest mama ever. “She’s a cartoon. She’s not supposed to look like a human.” Duh.

Crazy Mode ~ Jen

Crazy is a tough word.

In the purest definition, it refers to a mentally deranged person. Through common usage, it has also come to mean “possessed by enthusiasm and excitement, immoderately fond and infatuated, intensely involved and preoccupied, foolish or impractical”.

I have been all those things.

Not so very long ago, control was my unhealthy obsession. In the “intensely involved and preoccupied” sense, I was crazy about my control. I believed that if I could control things—myself, others and things, then I could shelter my family from the storm. I read every horrible story on the internet about every child who died or disappeared. I read the story until I found the place where someone had lost control, where if they had just made a different choice, none of it would have happened. Then I held on to that “lesson” in my head to make sure I never made that choice.

The stories where there was no moment when a choice was made, when there was nothing anyone could do, haunted me. Two of those stories had things in common: a mini-van, a big rig and an off-ramp. Accidents. But I traded in my crossover for a Tahoe. It has a third seat that I didn’t let my kids sit in. I needed the four feet of empty space between my babies and the big truck with no brakes slamming into the back of us. I started avoiding the off-ramps where traffic had a tendency to back up suddenly. And if there was a big truck behind me, I’d move over.

In hindsight, I realize this was the start of my postpartum anxiety journey that would come to a fractured head in 2012. My efforts to control everything around me were evidence that I was slowly sliding off my rocker. In the midst of my madness, it’s fair to say that I was addicted to control. I was also only working in my head. It was an overly practical, logical place to be. My heart was crying out for rest from all the worry, horror and anxiety I was dumping into it, but my brain was driven to understand, to head trouble off before it came knocking on my door.

Trouble came knocking anyway. It always does. Life and death will out.

In recovery from my crazy, I spent a lot of time reading Richard Rohr, who I have talked about before. Two of his books met me where I was, like the Good Samaritan: Everything Belongs and Falling Up. They were a challenge to get my heart and faith in the game. I had left them behind. I wasn’t trusting God at all. I wasn’t listening. I wasn’t praying. I wasn’t reaching out a hand. I wasn’t letting myself be loved. I had crowded God out of my life and was trying to do His job.

And I was letting fear—a huge, angry, anxious, evil fear—eat my peace.

I needed to unlearn the things that hormones and fearful motherhood taught me. I have unclenched my fists, to let go of what I was holding so tightly.

It’s no good to me strangled.

I turned my hands up and out and am learning to cradle. I’m giving my fear to God, as fast as it comes to me. I am listening. I am praying. I am believing.

I had to give up my need to control, which drove me out of control, to get some self-control.

I would have never believed it five years ago, but letting go has brought me more peace than trying to control it all. It has decluttered my life, simplified it, clarified it.

In a wonderful turn of events, I have less to worry about now than I did when I was trying to control everything so I would have less to worry about.

Crazy, but true.

Cookie Monster ~ Jen

I was a Campfire girl. We didn’t sell cookies. We sold almond roca and mints. And it wasn’t a very big deal. We walked the neighborhood, called grandma and sold at the local grocery store.

To be fair, I don’t think Girl Scout cookies were a great big thing in the 80s either.

Teresa is a Gold Award Scout. That’s the Girl Scout equivalent of an Eagle Scout. Over the last 15 years, I have bought my fair share of cookies from her. Cookies were always a big thing for her, but I just assumed she was good at selling them, and probably the exception, not the rule.

The last month—our first foray into Girl Scout cookie selling—has disabused me of that notion.

Every single movie parody, stand up routine and Saturday Night Live send up of the Girl Scouts is deserved. Maybe not where the girls are concerned, but I promise you that the adult Girl Scout world is a virtual Jonestown and you better drink the koolaide.

From the Family Guide to Cookies 2014 published by the Girl Scouts:

Why a cookie program?

Did you know that participating in a Cookie Program helps build self-esteem? Learning that you can set a goal, budget for your needs, create a marketing plan and then go and make it happen teaches our girls to believe in themselves better than any “self-help” training.

Doesn’t that sound like a creepy recruiting pitch for selling timeshares in the Caribbean?

When you couple this with the understanding that only $.70 of each $4 box goes back to the troop or scout and that our leaders were required to commit to a certain number of cases before ordering started, that little blurb is pretty impressive spin for what is a massive fundraising campaign for the organization. GSA gets $2.08 per box.

Also in the Family Guide to Cookies:

If you can’t see it, these are the guidelines on Whistleblowing and Divorces. Third party whistleblowing is not acceptable, along with anonymous whistleblowing. If you are going to call out your five year old neighbor for doing a walk-about after the walk-about sale window has closed, you better be ready to give your full name.

My favorite part of this little publication:

I’ve tried for three weeks, but cannot begin to imagine a situation where a border treaty seemed like the only, best, last solution.

I’m running a huge risk by writing this. It says very clearly in the Adult Code of Conduct—which both Shea and I had to sign—that willful creation of discord is a violation. Uh-oh.

Because I haven’t even said what I really want to say.

How on earth can an organization which claims to want the best for their scouts, including physical health, sell these things, which are pure crap??? Tons of calories, sugar, palm oil and unpronounceable ingredients.

The Thin Mints and Peanut Butter Patties are vegan. How can that be when they are covered in chocolate, I wondered. Turns out, chocolate comes from a bean. That’s vegan. The higher the percentage of chocolate, the more pure it is.

And yet my ingredients list clearly states that the Thin Mints and Patties contain less than 2% of cocoa. Animal by-products are not vegan, but chemicals are? Talk about the letter and not the spirit of the law.*

And how about the math of it all?

If a young lady sells 1250 boxes of cookies, she qualifies for a Google Chromebook. She’s earned her troop $875. She’s earned GSA $2575. She’s earned herself $400 in Cookie Dough that she can apply towards Girl Scout trips and costs. The troop and GSA take-away from this child’s efforts is $3050.

A Google Chromebook retails for $199.

Maybe these details are the man behind the curtain when we’re talking about building self-esteem “better than any self-help training”.

Two weeks ago, I got called in to help pick up our cookies because I have a Tahoe. I drove to our local semi-pro baseball stadium where I was directed by a woman wearing a tutu to park in the holding lot. I joined two of our troop leaders in their big cars. At our appointed time, we lined up our cars to drive through the parking lot. At this point I was kind of out of words because we were following behind a U-Haul that someone rented to pick up their cookies. Across the parking lot, I could see toy haulers and horse trailers. I was told not to get out of my car at any time for any reason once I entered the cookie line, where soccer moms and dads wearing tutus were loading boxes of cookies and grooving to Taylor Swift.

When our leader hit the front of the line, the lady with the clipboard laughed. Threw her head back and laughed.

“You’re only getting 67 cases? You don’t need all these cars! You only need one. We can get 230 cases into the back of a mini-van!”

Our troop leader, who I love and who I know will never drink the Koolaide, waved me off with a roll of the eyes and a smile. I knew what she was thinking: Now we’re that troop.

Thank. Goodness.

*I’m not saying that I didn’t eat a whole box of Thin Mints all by myself. I’m just saying it was bad for me.

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