Warning.... Flooding may occur!

I want to hear from you. I made this blog with the hopes that it would be a community blog where we can all share with each other. If you have an idea or something you would like to see a post about, email me. I would love to have other people post about things going on in their marriage as well. Perhaps you have a question about a particular problem in your marriage, or maybe you have a few tips you want to pass on to young couples. Maybe you just want to rant. You can do all of that here.

I want to know what you need and want from this blog. I hope you flood the comment box with ideas and questions that will help you deal with the challenge of marriage. It is a chance to be a normal spouse and focus your attention on your relationship, putting away all of the infertility, parenting, and whatever else you may struggle with.

Eh? Did you say something?

Men have an uncanny sense of selective hearing. If I mention a little hanky panky after dinner, I could whisper from the other side of the room and he would hear me. However, if it involves any sort of "honeydo" topic, I have to draw pictures, shout, and communicate with sign language, and still he may not hear me. He also has this half hearing thing where he cuts me off mid sentence as if he has telepathically sensed what I need for him to do and can now take care of my specific instructions without me ever needing to explain to him how to go about doing it. Of course, most of the time in this case, he comes back to me, midway through the project and gives me a helpless look before asking how to do it.

It drives me nuts sometimes. Okay fine, all the time. I repeat myself over and over. When he puts on his video gaming head set and starts yakking it up with his voice chat buddies, I seem to vanish along with any responsibility that he has in the house.

It doesn't stop here. Oh no. Much like my grandmother that suffers from hearing loss and refusal to wear her hearing aids, my husband has decided that the television must be set to never before heard decibel levels that the astronauts can hear some times. I tend to have rather sensitive hearing, probably because I spend most of my days surrounded by noisy children, so I try really hard to let it go, but seriously! I go outside to talk on the phone or just clear my head sometimes and I still can't drown his sound out completely. He swears it isn't loud, but our quaking walls beg to differ.

No wonder he can't hear me when I ask him to take out the trash!

Facade

I went to Belarus a couple of years ago on a mission trip. We led a day camp of sorts for a church that works with disabled children. Belarus was a beautiful country with a fascinating culture that I quickly fell in love with. One thing that stuck with me was the way they build their houses. These people live in dire poverty, surviving on what would be around $80 a month in the US. Still, their houses were painted bright, cheery colors that bounced off the dreary farm land. We would come across houses that were very elaborate and ornate, surrounded by rubble or run down farm shacks.

One day we asked our host about the houses and she sort of laughed as she explained. They take great pride in appearances there. If we were to actually walk into one of those elaborate homes, we would find one or two rooms at best with solid walls and a floor. The people there would pour all of their money into a gorgeous looking house, only to leave the inside unfinished and bare. It was all about the facade.

I relate that to my duty as a wife sometimes. I work very hard to smile and entertain with joy. I scurry around before bed at night, picking up the rooms we live in, hoping to convince myself that we live in a perfect happy home. When I am at work, I talk candidly about the fun things Hubby and I did that weekend, leaving out the screaming fest we had before we put on our shoes. Even with my husband, I sometimes put on a face, acting like I enjoy something when I don't for the sake of peace.

I think about all of the old television shows that I loved to watch as a child. Donna Reed was what I envisioned all houses were really like. My home wasn't like that, but everyone else must live like that, right? Of course, over the years I realized that this was never the case, but it made me wonder. Why do we insist on painting our lives with cheery colors and happy smiles? I loved the show Roseanne when I was a kid too. My mom didn't like me watching it, because she said Roseanne was brash and loud. I was drawn to it, though, because I could relate with the lives they portrayed. My dad didn't drink beer, and my mother wasn't as coarse or demanding as Roseanne, but we were never a Donna Reed family by any stretch of the idea.

I want to know if you have anything that you do to cover up your imperfections. While you think about it, I am going to put on an apron and make some fresh squeezed lemonade and maybe a few homemade cookies to woo our guests.

Welcome!

I needed to create this space for my own sanity. I have been married for over six years and I find it increasingly difficult to face the frustrations of the opposite sex alone. I hope that you will come here to find understanding and friendship when marriage beats you up. Feel free to ask questions or vent your frustrations within the safe confines of this space.

I will warn you. This is a place where I will often express my own frustrations and anger toward my husband. I may complain, cry, or celebrate. Consider yourself warned.