Hump day

We went to Chuy’s tonight for Hatch Green Chile Fest– special menu and crazy decorations. It was wonderful.

We sipped our spicy martinis and talked about work. We both had lots of stories. We talked and talked. We ate and ate. Then, we rolled out of there and journeyed home.

I got to work and knocked out some lesson to-do’s pretty quickly. Brian is napping beside me. He needed some shut eye before hitting his evening workload. We’re about to pass each other again– me going to sleep and him waking up to get to work. Sigh.

When we got home, we both talked about how great dinner together out was. It wasn’t date night or anything– just a chance for us to connect and check in. But it was special. So special.

Brian asked very pointed questions about my job and my school life. He is genuinely interested in me and my life. And tonight, he made me feel quite special. And then it got really great when we both geeked out over the podcast we listen to every day from Albert Mohler, and talked about theology and having a Christian worldview. Nerdy, but true.

We connected. We caught up. We smiled and laughed. We filled up on spicy food. Then, we got geeky. Now, I’m going to sleep at 9pm.

Great. Wednesday. Night.

Something outside

Brian and I have been racing around for a couple weeks now.

Tonight was our missional community group, so I couldn’t stay at the school until late (though, I just now finished my lesson and it’s almost midnight– ugh). We had just a few moments to throw together a meal and spend some time together before we went our separate ways (guys and gals met separately tonight), and what did we do with those moments? Well, we got upset with each other.

I kept thinking about it afterwards and it just made me sad. It was all a result of not communicating well with each other. Again. And I feel like I so rarely see my handsome husband these days– so I hate that we squandered some of that time.

Now, we both rebounded quickly and moved on, but I haven’t stopped thinking about it. Brian is on my side– he’s on Team Lundin and so am I. So, why don’t we act like that more? And on a day where I said multiple times that I really need to be intentional where I’m spending my social/free time (since there’s so little of it), why did we waste those moments today?

I know married people do this. I know friends do this. I know that this is normal. But I don’t necessarily want to be normal, here. I would like us to be atypical in this. And the only way I can see that happening is through a lot of prayer. We’re both tired and grouchy, and have brains that are thinking about work when we’re looking at each other. It’s going to take something outside of us to change what’s going on between us.

Four shots

Yup. That’s four shots of espresso in that latte.

This is Brian’s morning latte. I had five shots in mine– not to be competitive or anything… Just saying.

It’s been a long, long week, and this picture pretty much sums it up.

Brian is already snoring. I’m jealous, but someone had to post on the blog. Lucky me ūüėČ

 

It’s still light out

I came home tonight and crashed on the couch. Literally. Brian made me wake up long enough to pick something from a take-out menu on his phone.

When he woke me up a second time, he was coming in the house with take-out. We watched ‘Good Eats’ while devouring our own. With big fat bellies, we both started to sink into the couch. I insisted we both go upstairs.

I had this great moment tonight. I was in the middle of this tremendous yawn and thinking bed soon. Brian was lightly snoring beside me. I was thinking through the evening tasks when I glanced at the clock. It read 7:30pm.

I laughed aloud.

7:30pm. That’s a dinner time. That’s a date time. That’s not a bed time.

But, the fact is– here we are in bed. Two young married people in bed by 7:30pm. It’s a true story.

I told my mom today on the phone that it’s been wild lately. She laughed when I said that sometimes Brian grabs me while we’re walking past each other to tell me that he loves me and I’m special. Tuesday night at our missional community group it felt strange and exciting to sit next to my husband, since it had been so long since we had done that.

But I’m next to him now. There’s no late project tonight for him. No lesson to prepare for me. Instead, we are in bed together at 7:30, one lightly snoring. And I’m envious of the one lightly snoring, because I’d like to be. And there’s something romantic about snoring next to my husband when it’s still light outside. That, or we’re both so entirely overworked that perspective is skewed. Either way, I’m getting some sleep tonight.

Long time, no see

It’s 10:45pm and Brian and I just got home. The week has been crazy. You all know about it on my side (if not, read the posts from Monday and Tuesday), but just when my work life went nuts, so did Brian’s. So, about the time I need my classroom helper, he has a ton of other (albeit, totally legitimate) things to do.

Tonight, I went to my brother’s birthday dinner (good job getting older, Daniel!) alone, because Brian had a work meeting. I went from there out to Dripping Springs to meet him at the storage unit so we could move my classroom belongings¬†to Cedar Park¬†(thank you for the truck, Galligan family!).

When we got out of our vehicles at the storage place, we just smiled at each other. It read, “Long time, no see.”

We went from a summer of both being in the house all the time and having as much together time as we could stand to a sudden flurry of late nights, no meals together, rushing around, and trying to catch each other on the phone. And when I say that the switch was sudden, I mean that the world changed last Thursday.

But, all of my classroom stuff is IN my classroom now (thank the Lord!). Organizing and decorating can begin tomorrow (parents and students come Monday– yikes!). Brian moved box after box without complaint. He was wonderful. And on the long drive from storage unit to new school, we talked on the phone, trying to catch up on the craziness in the other’s life.

I would joke this summer, within earshot of Brian, that my friends needed to let me know when they were free because Brian and I had a little too much time together in the house.¬†It’s funny how quickly things change.

I told him I’d really like a date night when we have time to breathe again… in October ūüėČ

 

Same song, second verse (or fourth…)

Monday, I posted on here about meal planning and asked you all for your help and wisdom.

Tuesday, I got some incredible tips on furniture shopping from my friend Kari. I’ve been shopping for furniture all summer (with no luck!) and it had never occurred to me to ask others for insight and advice.

Tuesday evening, I posted on here about realizing that asking Brian for help isn’t nagging– it’s necessary.

Anyone noticing a theme?

I’m not always the quickest to realize things. I often tell people that God has to resort to using the “holy two-by-four” on me because I rarely hear any of the whispers or feel the nudges. I’m starting to wonder how long this whole asking-people-for-help thing has been staring me in the face and I’ve walked past it, struggling in my solitude.

Ironically, when I worked for the UT Learning Center, I would begin my public speaking sessions by informing the crowd that the number one characteristic of successful people is help-seeking behaviorРknowing when and how to ask for help.

Like I said yesterday, I’m not so good at asking for help. I love to help others, but when it comes to needing it myself, I don’t want to put anyone out, to seem needy, or look like I can’t handle things. But you ladies who commented Monday helped me, Kari helped me, and Brian helps me all the time. And everyone did it gladly (or at least voluntarily ;-)).

I need the help of those who have gone before me, those with wisdom and experience, and those that see me regularly enough to know what’s going on with me. I also need the help of the man who married me. I could try to do this on my own, but the¬†overwhelming¬†evidence here points to much more success if I don’t.

Becoming family

I was talking to my mom today and telling her about our weekend in Oklahoma. The purpose of the weekend was to see family– lots of family. And we did.

Brian’s brother-in-law made a comment this weekend about getting to know your spouse’s family. He’s a wise sage in this area– he’s been getting to know Brian’s family for three years. He told me that “you just gotta put in the time.”

Now, I love Brian’s family. No issues there. They are incredible people and I had a wonderful weekend. But he’s right– in order to really understand their dynamics and quirks, traditions and methods, you have to be with them for a while.

When I told my mom about lunch on Saturday, I went on and on about talking to Brian’s high school (and soon to be collegiate) cousins. They are fun, intelligent young men who are a blast to talk to.¬†I told her about how his family knew my favorite color and gave thoughtful gifts.¬†I went on about aunts and uncles and extended family, and then conversations that took place back with his immediate family.

I guess what I realized talking to Mom was that I had a really great weekend. I’m getting to know his family and they’re getting to know me. And if this is just part of the process of “putting in the time,” I’ve got high hopes for these family weekends in the future.

He loves me well

At the Metropolitan Museum of Art yesterday, we found ourselves in a section made to replicate walking through 18th and 19th century wealthy European estates. We couldn’t decide sometimes if “opulent” or “ostentatious” was a better descriptor, though “impressive” was certainly an accurate term. One room in particular caused us both to stop in our tracks. “Jane Austen-esque” was the term for that room, and I am a huge Jane Austen fan.

The high ceiling and the walls were a rich buttercup with beautiful white detailing. A chandelier hung in the center dripping with crystals, while the gold scrolled furniture lined the walls. The center of the room was empty, and we stood wide-eyed in the middle of the polished wood floor. Without words, my husband looked at me, placed one hand on my waist and grabbed my hand with his other, and we waltzed.

The $15 dirty martini

On Friday night after the musical, we were all dressed up in the middle of NYC and I decided I wanted a hoity-toity martini in a hoity-toity place. This is not the norm for us. We’re pub people. You know– dark wood, pints of beer, down to earth people, and jeans. But hoity-toity was what I wanted, and my husband delivered. He confidently walked into the W Hotel in Times Square and got into the elevator. He confidently pushed a button. I had no idea what was going on but I didn’t want the strangers in the elevator to know we didn’t belong in this place, so I remained silent. We popped out in a ridiculously loud and obnoxiously trendy bar. We ordered two martinis from a rail-thin girl who seemed annoyed that we even existed. As we sat down on a strange ottoman/table/decorated-something-or-other with our martinis, I asked Brian how he knew to find this place. He didn’t. He walked confidently, and delivered my every wish to me.

Sometimes my husband is selfish. Sometimes he makes decisions based more on his comfort than my desires. Sometimes he really hurts my feelings. But that’s not who he is or what he really wants. My husband is fallible. He isn’t perfect. But at his core, he is loving and he wants to make me happy– no matter how silly my desires. He gave me the chance to be Elizabeth Bennet dancing at a ball, and Carrie Bradshaw all dressed up and sipping a cocktail in posh bar.

These aren’t Brian’s dreams. The reality for Brian was that he danced in the middle of a museum and then had a drink in an incredibly uncomfortable and loud bar. But he loves me and wants me to be happy, whether I’m Lindsey, Lizzie, or Carrie. It’s the same thing I did that day on the honeymoon when Brian thought that he was Hemingway and decided to conquer the sea. That’s what we do in marriage– we seek other’s ultimate good. We help the other to realize their dreams. We try our hardest to love each other well.

And Brian loves me really well.

Here we are in Times Square

Why I don’t recommend marriage

On March 10th everything changed, and Brian became my husband. It’s been amazing. I love being married. So, logically it would follow that I would recommend marriage to a single person. I would not.

Here is what I would recommend…

Marriage is incredible and incredibly difficult. You need to find someone you can share your “crazy” with. If you don’t know what that means, then you don’t know yourself very well. We’ve all got it (though, some hide it and some where it on their shirtsleeve). You need to be okay with their crazy, and they need to be okay with your crazy.

Once you see that it’s a crazy that you can live with, then you need to make sure– darn sure– that this is the person you want to argue with for the rest of your life. Gasp! You argue in marriage?! Yes, dear ones, you argue. You argue, you disagree, and you get frustrated.

Once you have found crazy that works for you and decided you can argue with this person until you’re 80, then you should make sure that they understand marriage is for life– like, really truly understand that it is for life. Husband has a mid-life crisis– you stick with him. Wife cheats on husband– you stick with her. You decide you are no longer “attracted”¬†to this person and just don’t “feel connected”– you stick with them.

I would really like to whole-heartedly recommend marriage to my friends, but after being in it– even just this short amount of time– I can see that this would be wretchedly difficult and nearly impossible if Brian and I weren’t confident with the three things I just mentioned. ¬† ¬†So, I don’t recommend marriage, but instead, I recommend waiting for a partner that you really want for life– for good, for bad, and for crazy.

I can deal with his “crazy”, I can argue with him for life, and we’re in it forever. I recommend one of these.

A million thanks

Well, it’s here. Summer. I made it through another school year.

Today was my first official day of summer vacation. So what’s a new wife to do with a day of freedom? I decided to take care of a few things I haven’t had time to do.

Task #1: Thank you cards

I am embarrassed to say that my thank you card to-do pile has been stacking up since the wedding. It’s so impolite. I realize this. I likely nearly killed my dear mother over the embarrassment of it all. I just felt like every time I had a moment to sit at a desk during the school year, the priority had to be grading. Thus, the thank you card pile grew.

But yesterday and today I sat down and put the pen to the notecard. I wrote 69 thank you cards and proudly marched them down to the outgoing mailbox. The mail(wo)man was at the box and I was able to place the pile into her capable hands before proudly prancing away.

The task wasn’t without its issues. Cards were separated from gifts at the wedding, so there were several gifts for which we don’t know the exact giver. On the upside– we loved everything we received, so I could accurately relay that we loved the “gift,” even though I couldn’t specify the exact nature of the “gift.” And then there was the pile of cards that were in the to do box that I could swear I already sent the thanks for. But I couldn’t leave it to chance– better two thank you cards than none at all. Better someone think I’m crazy than rude.

Though this task should be checked off as completed, I have the ridiculous feeling that I forgot to thank someone, and thus, I also have the feeling of guilt. Brian looks at me with his confused face when I try to explain this. I accept that there are things like thank you cards or high heeled wedges that he will never understand.

As I wrote the individual cards, I began to once again feel the corporate blessing of all of the gifts. We were overwhelmed by the incredible generosity and love. I remembered once more how many people contributed in ways big and small, seen and unseen to our wedding and household. It was at that point I realized that my meager 69 cards did not express the million thanks I felt in my heart. We are so blessed.

Once Task #1 was completed, it was on to Task #2: cooking a nice meal for my husband on a weeknight. This was a treat for both of us; I got to love and serve, and he got to relax and eat. For my first weeknight solo run in the kitchen as wife, I served up herb breaded baked chicken, sweet potato risotto, and green beans.

It was a satisfying first day off. Just enough to do to feel productive, but not enough for it to feel like “work.”