Marriage

Marriage / Uncategorized — No Comments
14
Aug 10

28 Hours

In the grand scheme of things, 28 hours is not that much time…..but this week, it was enough time to get us back in the groove of things….enough time to celebrate 13 years of marriage…enough time to sit in/by the pool and talk, to walk around Santa Monica and laugh at the sights, to drink wine and eat dim sum and sushi and Pho. Enough time to be us–Adam and Jen– and not “Anna’s Parents.” Come to think of it, 28 hours is an eternity. 28 hours is brilliant.

Dim Sum, Chinatown. Hot tea for two. Stuffed ourselves silly for $25.


Mmmm. Pork Buns.



Wine, cheese, and crackers? Yes please.


On our way to Most Delicious Sushi Restaurant Ever


Leaf chopstick rest. So elegant.


Mmmm. Sweet shrimp head, about to be dropped into the deep fryer.


Anna and the newest addition to the household, Toodle the Poodle (Anna named it)


Still…we were really, really happy to come home to Anna’s smiling face. We kind of like her. I think we’ll keep her.

Marriage — 2 Comments
2
Aug 10

Lucky #13

I am thankful for every little bit of this, all these years.

Family / Humor / Marriage — 1 Comment
27
Jul 10

Happy 34th

This is the fifteenth (15??!!!??!?!) birthday of yours that we have celebrated together and, damn Babe!, you keep getting finer every year. Like a fine wine, you are. I love you, my younger man. Here’s to many more: many more years, many more tears, and, most definitely and beyond a doubt, many more laughs!

P.S. Nice hat.

Family / Marriage / Parenting / every day life — 3 Comments
10
May 10

Cleaning: DIY or outsource?

Housecleaner. Do you have one?

We do. Adam and I budgeted for once a week housecleaners at the same time as we budgeted for a weekly landscaping service. Why? Because it helps to save our marriage. ; ) Because if we remove these tasks from our to-do lists (always, always too long to reasonably accomplish in a lifetime) there is more time for fun time. Because if we remove these tasks from our lives, then there is less resentment and hassle and “it’s your turn! No, it’s your turn” in our lives.

One of my friends recently noted that they had decided to cancel their housecleaning service because she was afraid of what it was teaching her kids–that someone else cleaned up their messes. That they were not responsible for cleaning their rooms. This gave me something to ponder. I know I have had a few cringe worthy moments where Anna has noted that “Priscilla does that” when I’ve asked her to pick something up. Eek. Definitely have had conversations with her after statements like that. But, on the whole, I still think it is worth it. It is a thing of privilege. There are so many things in our lives, though, that are things of privilege. We outsource so many things. I’m letting this be one of those things because, honestly, the cleanliness of the house (and lack thereof) was one of those niggling little things that became the center of many heated, pointless arguments. And I’d rather not go there. Even if my kid learns that someone else cleans our house.

(P.S. Anna and I do some of the cleaning ourselves–our housecleaners are just okay, not great, and there are many little projects–and some big projects, too–that I end up doing myself. Things like cleaning fingerprints off the walls, scrubbing at stubborn spots on the kitchen floor, clearing out the under-the-bed dust bunnies, and things like that. Plus, I do sweep and–occasionally, like when something gets spilled, hee hee–mop.)

Any thoughts to share on this one? What do you do in your house? Just curious.

Family / Marriage — 1 Comment
5
May 10

Yesterday, on Mission Street

As I drove Anna to school yesterday,  there was a car in front of us that only sort of pulled over to the side of the street. I slowed down, curious whether the driver was experiencing car troubles or ? and saw this scene: woman in driver’s seat, man in passenger’s seat. Both yelling, crying. Heated argument.

I flashed back to years (a decade?) ago, in a car (our blue BMW sedan). Me in the driver’s seat. Adam in the passenger’s seat. Monrovia, California. Just a couple of blocks from our house. Heated argument. It was one of those moments that, in retrospect, feels like a make-it-or-break-it moment. The moment upon which the world turns. Things were spoken: ugly, terrible, un-beautiful things that could never be taken back. Words meant to hurt, to sting, to break. Unforgivable words.

And yet…..and yet. These words were forgiven (eventually). The wrongs were made right.

There was never anything that was really and truly awful, except that, somehow, it was. So young, so innocent, so optimistic we were. And it felt, for a while, like we were drowning. That it was all too much: too much work, too little fun. Too many of those words, those raised voices and heated arguments in cars.

It got better. It got way better.

Somewhere along the way, I’ve let some things go. Learned to take it easy (a bit), forgive, try not to point fingers. Learned to try and have fun. Learned the ebb and flow of love and living together.

Undoubtedly there will be words, there will be raised voices and questions and arguments in cars (and at home and other places, too).

But.

How grateful I am to not be in that car yesterday, but, instead, to be riding high on my memories of recent times together–memories punctuated by kisses and holding hands and meaningful conversations (the deep, soul-baring kind) and a general feeling of being on the same team.

My new lease on life is also a new lease on love, it sometimes feels. Every minute a minute to be grateful for, not to be taken lightly. This here, this now–these, all of these moments, moments that I wasn’t sure I would have. Washes of panic over the future (because who knows what it holds?) drowned out by delight in the present.

Yesterday, on Mission Street, I saw my past. Here, right here and now, I see my now. And, good golly, I think I like it.

Family / Marriage / Parenting — No Comments
28
Apr 10

The times without

This last weekend Adam and I had the rare and unusual opportunity to have some time alone, just the two of us, for thirty straight hours. It was….awesome. It was…weird.

Family / Marriage / every day life / food — 1 Comment
27
Mar 10

Rhythm

Adam and I have such different daily rhythms. I was up with the birds this morning, drinking my tea as I did a little of this (made some bread dough with my sourdough starter, took a shower, ate breakfast) and a little of that (made lists for the day, cleaned up some stuff left out from last night, and, eventually, made Anna breakfast, helped her brush her hair and teeth). Adam laid in bed, sleeping and then, eventually, he got up and took a loooooong hot shower, emerging in a fog of hot humid air.

I’ll admit it: I had my moment this morning of feeling resentful of this. Of all the little “this” and “that” things that I got done in the still, quiet morning. But here I am, mid-afternoon, resting drowsily in bed (won’t sleep but will lay down and read and knit while Anna takes her rest) while he is busy in the kitchen, preparing what will be (I am quite sure) an amazing feast for dinner, chopping herbs and garlic, browning meat, trimming vegetables.

We both get it done, just not in the same way that the other one would. It’s a beautiful thing, really, complementary, that we don’t operate in the same way. I love that we are different, that our ways of being in this world are not Xerox copies of each other. It’s one of the things that I love most about being married, the ways in which he is still mysterious to me, even after all these years.

And tonight, together, finally in perfect rhythm, we will lift our glasses of deep, red wine, and I will marvel at the ways in which our different ways have brought us to this point: bread baked in the dawn, meat braised in the late afternoon, and all these other meal components (life components, too!), not just body fuel but tradition and celebration as well, cooked by each other and for each other.

Marriage — No Comments
14
Feb 10

Happy Valentine’s Day

There are many who bemoan Valentine’s Day, and for good reason. Overpriced roses, crowded restaurants. A holiday invented by the greeting card industry. A special day to say “I love you”? Why not every day.

Me? I love Valentine’s Day.

It helps me to remember, to celebrate, to marvel at the love in my life. That happy couple above, 15 years later, after all the stuff we’ve done and endured. The little stuff–me learning to sleep with his snoring, him having to admire my knitting every two rows (“Isn’t this pattern just great? Isn’t it turning out nicely? Huh Huh?”). The big stuff–yearning for children that were not easily coming our way, not enough money, sharing one bathroom (ha!), Cancer. All of it. It is all a part of who we are. We share a past, memories, a language, a child, a love.

So. One special day to celebrate this? Why not? I love him the other 364 days a year, too.

Happy Valentine’s Day, my sweet, funny, amazing love. I love you. XO

Cancer / Marriage — No Comments
7
Jan 10

Stories

Adam and I have this collection of stories…the stories of our life together. Some of these stories (ok, lots of these stories) are stories so hilarious–to us, at least–(like the one where Adam gets bitten by a fish on our honeymoon or, well, there are lots of stories in which Adam tries to communicate in a foreign language and has a major–and hilarious–misunderstanding) that we must pause a moment in the retelling, to wipe the tears from our eyes, to take a moment to collect ourselves.

There are the stories about the times that, in the moment, were not at all funny but that have grown into the stuff of legends (like our month-long houseguest that we had in the first year of our marriage; okay, I’m still somewhat bitter about this but I can see the humor inherent in it, if I squint and tilt my head to the left).

There are, of course, the sad stories, though we tend to tell these less often than the hilarious ones when we are at parties. We are less inclined to tell these to people that we barely know (though I have lately heard Adam–truthfully–tell a stranger who innocently asks when we are planning to have another child that we don’t really think that that is likely for us, given that chemo has thrown me into menopause).

I’ve been reading this great novel the last few weeks in which the main character, who has some truly heartbreaking life stories, is talking to his therapist about one of these sad stories and the therapist tells him (my paraphrase) that he has constructed a museum of his life’s sadness, for which he is the one curator. That he is living in this museum, unable to live his life.

It’s not an exact parallel by any means (the character in this story is paralyzed by his sad things, depressed and unable to find the momentum to move forward and live his life, whereas I feel pretty okay, most of the time), but I started wondering if I’ve created too much of a museum to my own life hurts and sorrows. If I’m dwelling too much on that stuff. I realize that this blog, when it comes down to it, is the repository of much of the extremes of daily life–the highest highs, the lowest lows–and it may not truly reflect how I am, where I’m at. I think that, overall, I’m psychologically healthy. But I do sense within my self some amount of revisiting the same stuff over and over, in a way that may not be….hmmm…appropriate? Like my urge, when any stranger compliments my hairdo, to burden them with the knowledge of my cancer. My urge to make them marvel, also, about the fact that a year ago, I was bald and now! Look at all this hair!

I feel like I am living my life. I feel like I am satisfied and okay, but…I am revisiting this stuff a lot. I have mixed feelings about whether this is healthy and good–to marvel about where I’ve been, what I’ve been through, the ways in which my life is irrevocably changed, not because of my decisions or as a consequence of my actions, but simply because that is what fate handed me–or whether my continued visits to my sorrowful stories are holding me back or keeping me in a darker place than I need to be.

Partly I feel that I do not have the luxury of letting it all go yet because I am still living it (I have four chemo sessions coming up, the next four Mondays, for example; and damned if I can’t get it out of my head that the docs aren’t scanning me this month just for the hell of it, but because they are checking to make sure that the cancer hasn’t come back, which is a very real and scary thing). Partly I feel that not thinking about it would, in some way, be disrespectful or dishonoring to my life experiences. I feel like to forget about it would be to turn my back on a part of myself, a part of myself that is so integral to the way that I think and act and feel and live that it would be dishonest to myself. A crime against myself.

It’s almost as if I dwell on these things because, just as the scar on my abdomen stings and rubs and pulls in such a way that I cannot ignore it, it is who I am now. Like these stories are me. Can I be me without being Cancer Jen? Without being Jen-who-used-to-be-bald? Jen-who-lived-through-the-hell-that-is-chemo?

Cancer / Marriage / Parenting / Uncategorized — No Comments
1
Jan 10

New Year

The last few days have felt so busy I feel like it’s been the longest long weekend ever. Except tomorrow is Saturday, which means we haven’t even hit the weekend yet. Whoa. The zone between Christmas and New Years is always so weird.

This week:

Anna has a new favorite sweater (“Thank you, Grandma!”, she says. Also, heard many times a day, “Take a picture of me in my new sweater and send it to Grandma!”). Well, okay:

Anna had “Naked Lady Happy Puddle Dancing” (her name for it) after it rained on Wednesday. This was the most exuberant, exhilarating nude free-for-all I’ve ever been privy to.

There was lots of toting around of (doll) babies and baby gear and baby related accessories:

Yesterday (New Year’s Eve) we went wine tasting in the valley with friends. Quite a blissful way to spend a Thursday, sitting on a porch eating delicious nibbles and sampling some good wines, while we let the kids entertain themselves (Fess Parker has an awesome big grass lawn for the kids to run around on, by the way):

Then, after all that wine, we had to let Anna drive us to our next destination. Scary, right?

Oh, she’s an excellent driver, don’t worry about a thing. She just needs Adam to reach the pedals for her. It’s exactly like Autopia at Disneyland.

Then we got really silly and put the kids in a shoe:

And then we really pressed our luck and took them with us for even more wine tasting, this time at a tasting room in Solvang. This place has the good sense to put out a table with activities for the little ones. Smart.

Back home for rests and then more party for New Year’s Eve. Because you can never have too much party. Or wine. (But there is such thing as too much garlic. Trust me, it’s true. Don’t listen to my husband).

We kept the kids up until midnight! (Eastern time).

Home and in bed before 11 pm? My kind of party. There’s something joyous, to me (in my “old age”), about knowing that I’m not going to wake up in the morning feeling completely dead and hung over. I just love that. I’m a dork.

I got up early this morning, took a long walk, contemplated the new year and what it means to me. My resolution? Make it through until January of 2011. That is kind of a lame resolution except the significance is huge: January 2011 is when I will achieve my “cure” status from cancer. Two years post-treatment is the milestone to achieve. In the meantime, I have three more rounds of chemo (well, four treatments this month, four in July of this year, and four a year from now). I am gritting my teeth and preparing myself for this, knowing that as much as I would love to be able to put all of this health crap behind me, I still have it staring me in the face. It is not a thing of the past: it is my present. I am in this weird in between place of not exactly having cancer still, but not being able to call myself a survivor yet. I’m not there yet.

But as Adam and I talked today, I realized that we are in this amazing time of our lives, nevertheless. Despite it all…no…because of it all. Because of everything that has happened, we are matured. Because of our struggle to make our family happen. Because of cancer. Because of pancreatic surgery. Because of almost 13 years of marriage. Because of being parents. Because of it all we are headed down this path and even though the stuff that got us here has its elements of crap to it, the path we’re on isn’t a crap path. We are strong and confident and we know the breadth and depth of love, the hope and comfort of relationship.

Today we played at home, visited the tidepools at Campus Point, and then had our traditional New Year’s Day party with friends, where we ate oliebollen (Dutch doughnuts to ring in the New Year) and fish tacos as we drank our champagne. We passed around babies, settled preschooler arguments, and filled up with the nourishment of friendship, the prosperity of relationships.

The economy might be bad, health questionable. I’m putting my money on people this year.

And tonight I got that rare and special gift of rocking my precious girl to sleep. It is unimaginable to me that there could be something more amazing and beautiful than my own gorgeous child. Even if she does refuse to smile for pictures from time to time.

This! This more than makes up for it:

I’m not wishing for a perfect year. I’m just along for the ride. Happy New Year’s, one and all.