I must preface this blog with a warning. There was a red wine bottle opened a little while ago. It’s now empty. You’ve been warned. I’ve heard that it’s best if you write drunk and edit sober. Some nonsense from Byron or Shakespeare or something (go on, comment on who really said that, I’ll wait, I just don’t feel like looking it up) like that. Since I don’t edit anyways (I’m so sorry.) let’s go.
Ladies and Gentlemen, I have no idea where all of you appeared from to read my blog, but I love every last one of you. Thank you. It means more than I can say in my current inebriated state. Sorry, the wine makes me extra lovey. I’ll try not to grope any of you, but no promises. It’s probably best if you sit a few seats away.
Daddy G and I just had an awesome philosophical/math conversation about uncontrollable equations over byriani and red wine. Yes, yes, you can now carry on about how much of a pretentious nerd I am. I’m already aware and I happen to agree with you. This is one of the reasons that Daddy G and I get along so well. No matter how many times we argue about his traveling to the US without me (you ever loving bastard), he always makes up for it by engaging my mind. He tolerates my unadulterated love affair with red wine and is willing to engage in ridiculously nerdy discussions. When he’s not working that is. Ahem. I love this man.
My eldest daughter asked me today, in the teary-est way possible, what she would do if her husband didn’t love her like her daddy and I did. I told her that without a doubt she should never marry a man that didn’t love her more than we did. This came out of a situation where her sister was found eating food outside (of which she is not allowed, because nut allergies aren’t a joke yo) and how hard it was to say no to friends. I got up on my soap box and preached a bit about how important it was to learn to do this and not worry so much about offending people, which my daughter does. A lot. I swear I’m trying to stop with the soap boxing (see here), but people, it is hard. The hard part came when my daughter asked me what if her husband stopped loving her, like my parents did. I’ve always been open about my mom and dad’s divorce with my kids. Not in the “I have Daddy Issues” way that is always in my own head, but that they had problems they just couldn’t solve.
The hard thing is, there is no guarantee. There’s no promise that you and your spouse won’t change and run into problems that you just can’t solve or fix. Honestly, this terrifies me. I would rather chew off my left leg than have to go through a divorce. Yet, I’m a realist and I can’t honestly say that Daddy G and I will never ever get a divorce. I certainly don’t want one and will do everything in my power to avoid getting one. It feels like a defeat admitting that I can’t even guarantee that we’ll be together always. But such is the way of relationships. There are no guarantees.
Ladies and gentlemen that love and care about your spouses, never take them for granted, and never ever let your problems go beyond what it will take a day to fix. Go on now, go hug your husband or wife. I’m done preaching for today.
Amen.
Becky
Ladies and Gentlemen, I have no idea where all of you appeared from to read my blog, but I love every last one of you. Thank you. It means more than I can say in my current inebriated state. Sorry, the wine makes me extra lovey. I’ll try not to grope any of you, but no promises. It’s probably best if you sit a few seats away.
Daddy G and I just had an awesome philosophical/math conversation about uncontrollable equations over byriani and red wine. Yes, yes, you can now carry on about how much of a pretentious nerd I am. I’m already aware and I happen to agree with you. This is one of the reasons that Daddy G and I get along so well. No matter how many times we argue about his traveling to the US without me (you ever loving bastard), he always makes up for it by engaging my mind. He tolerates my unadulterated love affair with red wine and is willing to engage in ridiculously nerdy discussions. When he’s not working that is. Ahem. I love this man.
My eldest daughter asked me today, in the teary-est way possible, what she would do if her husband didn’t love her like her daddy and I did. I told her that without a doubt she should never marry a man that didn’t love her more than we did. This came out of a situation where her sister was found eating food outside (of which she is not allowed, because nut allergies aren’t a joke yo) and how hard it was to say no to friends. I got up on my soap box and preached a bit about how important it was to learn to do this and not worry so much about offending people, which my daughter does. A lot. I swear I’m trying to stop with the soap boxing (see here), but people, it is hard. The hard part came when my daughter asked me what if her husband stopped loving her, like my parents did. I’ve always been open about my mom and dad’s divorce with my kids. Not in the “I have Daddy Issues” way that is always in my own head, but that they had problems they just couldn’t solve.
The hard thing is, there is no guarantee. There’s no promise that you and your spouse won’t change and run into problems that you just can’t solve or fix. Honestly, this terrifies me. I would rather chew off my left leg than have to go through a divorce. Yet, I’m a realist and I can’t honestly say that Daddy G and I will never ever get a divorce. I certainly don’t want one and will do everything in my power to avoid getting one. It feels like a defeat admitting that I can’t even guarantee that we’ll be together always. But such is the way of relationships. There are no guarantees.
Ladies and gentlemen that love and care about your spouses, never take them for granted, and never ever let your problems go beyond what it will take a day to fix. Go on now, go hug your husband or wife. I’m done preaching for today.
Amen.
Becky
