The Solution to a Good Marriage

I have been married to Stallion for almost 11 years. We have known each other for almost 14 years. In a lifetime, I realize this is just a short amount of time, but in married years, it's an accomplishment. In the U.S., we have a tendency to just throw out those things that have a little wear or tear, are faded, or just plain don't fit us anymore. This seems to apply to people, too. Relationships that don't suit our needs, seem like too much work, or are "old" don't always work in our society. We are the society where new and shiny is better. I watch all the younger couples in school dropping their kids off and marvel at their ability to look good, drive nice vehicles, and seem to have it all together. I could get downright green with envy if I didn't know a special secret: that time is what really makes a life and relationship great.

I laugh when I think about my premarital courtship. We met at a mental institution. No, not as patients, but as staff, although I do feel there are times when we belonged there. We didn't start dating right away, but when we did, we dove right in. We broke up a couple of times during our 2 1/2 year dating period because we weren't what each other expected. He didn't expect me to always be right and I just plain thought he was always wrong. When we got to the point where we thought we were ready to be married, I thought that this was the best life had to offer and all would be right with our relationship-wrong! That first year, or three, were tough. I do remember a particular argument in which he provoked me while I was pregnant. I believe a Hoover vacuum came out of nowhere and went flying at my husband, but to this day, I am unsure who threw it (sorry honey). We questioned our feelings for each other and basically wanted to throw in the towel more than once. It's funny how TIME brings about change.

Here we are 10 years later and I am glad we stuck it out. He wears on me like a perfect-fitting soft cotton tee and jeans with just a little stretch. Sure there's some fading and wear, but they fit better than anything else in my closet and are what I always go back to when I want to be my most comfortable. Nothing but time could do that. If you are really making an effort, you grow to understand your partner. You learn when to push and when to lay off. You find yourself never really experiencing anything great unless you have shared it with your spouse. I often wish that people weren't so quick today. We talk, move, and live at the fastest pace possible, always thinking that there will be time for rest and enjoyment later. All the while, racing by what is truly important. I still think my husband is wrong most of the time, but I have just learned how to work around it and let him think he is right. My marriage has become the pivotal point in which all of my life circles around. Life is good.

Sorry It's Been A While

Shoes ,made well, are truly an art form

Oh my! How I have neglected my writing and anyone who enjoys reading about my trials and challenges in life. Yes, a lot has happened in the last almost 2 months, and at the same time, it doesn't seem much has changed.

First, I promised to reveal what my husband got me for Christmas. Let's just say he didn't disappoint and I still think he could lead a gift-giving seminar. I will start with some pictures of the shoes and boots he gave me. First you must know that I am an absolute, hands-down, bona fide shoe LOVER! I believe that shoes are art for a ladies feet, or at least they can be. There is nothing quite like nice, painted toenails and soft feet tucked into a beautiful pair of stylish heels. That being said, I have the ugliest feet ever to have been created for women by the good Lord. I have a chubby large toe, then 3 stubby AND chubby middle toes, only to be followed lastly by a short, fat, and almost toenail-less pinky. I would say that I have the ugliest feet on the face of the planet, but my husband won that title the first time I saw his feet. If you haven't seen the blast from the past movie Waterworld with Kevin Costner, get it to just look at his feet. That is what my husbands look like (only slightly exaggerated). Wide and flat. Well, back to me. Not only can shoes be art, but also camouflage, barriers for viewing from the outside world, masks... you get the point.

A couple of times a year, I like to go through my closet and get rid of the shoes I don't feel the love for anymore. If you are a size 9 or 9 1/2 you could be the lucky recipient. Some have rarely been worn. I can choose between about 9 pairs of dressy boots, 3 pairs of casual boots, and 20 pairs of shoes in winter. Summer shoes are another blog. If anyone reading this blog is unfamiliar with Waupaca, WI let me fill you in. It is cold, slushy, snowy, and probably unfit for heels that are higher than 1 inch and made of rubber. As for me, I enjoy height. Scratch that- I NEED height. There aren't many people who go out around town with high heels on here. A friend from the South once shared that she couldn't believe the amount of cotton that was worn in the form of sweats with tennis shoes.

You might wonder where I wear these artful shoes. I have a secret. In my leisure time, I will try them on and just look at them in the mirror, admiring their color, form, or the way they turn my foot and leg into something different. They are my friends. I keep asking my husband to take me somewhere I can wear these great shoes/boots, but I guess there is only so much time and so many places one can go when you have a family the size of ours, so if you see a crazy woman wearing 4 inch heels in Walmart in the dead of winter during a snow storm, you'll know it's me and I just couldn't wait any longer. Enjoy the pictures.

Gifts From My Man-"Stallion"

Alright, I will admit it: I LOVE getting presents. I like to pretend to myself that presents aren't important and that I don't need anything (which I don't), but I truly love receiving gifts. Sometimes it's hard for me to contain my excitement upon the receiving of these gifts. I will do the following: save my gifts to open for last in order to keep the anticipation high, smile from ear to ear and maybe giggle to myself, or stare wide-eyed at package and touch it periodically to make sure that it still exists. After it is opened, I also have to contain my thanks to the giver lest they feel like they are being accosted or are likely to experience great bodily harm. Often, I will just give a big smile, say thanks, then secretly look forward to the person leaving so I can ponder the gift.

My husband is one of the best gift-givers I have ever known. I have often expressed to him that he should offer classes to those husbands that have difficulty deciphering from her chatter what she would love and who seem to have a hard time finding their wife's gift. Every Christmas I will find boxes placed at the last minute under the tree that are for me from him. I can't wait. One year, he suggested we not buy for each other. This idea was shot down faster than a duck during hunting season. I explained how I looked forward to what he chose and every time I looked at the item, or wore it, I thought of him and his care in picking something out for me. Sometimes, those gifts are beautiful clothes that I would never buy myself because I am too cheap, or jewelry that again, I could never see spending the money on. The point is: he listens. I have found that I actually have to be careful what I say sometimes or I might receive that gift of the Chia herb garden that I mentioned I was curious about.

My friends are at times envious at my husbands gift-giving expertise. One has also made the mistake of verbalizing out loud that her husband should take lessons from Stallion (yes Tina, that's you). I honestly feel that the lesson to be learned is to listen. Giving that great gift is all about picking up little cues and looking at the person it is intended for. Gifts are definitely not what this season is about, but boy oh boy I can't wait to get mine from Heath. I'll get back to you on what it is.

Submission in a Marriage?-What Does THAT mean?

Submission. Even saying the word in my head does not bode well. It feels almost "icky" and makes me scrunch my face. Why is that? The dictionary definition refers to submission as giving up, or surrendering. It is the condition of being humble or obedient. As I am a visual learner, all I can conjure up are my dogs trying to let each other know who's boss by mounting or nipping and growling. This doesn't spark warm fuzzies, or thoughts of sugarplums and candy canes. According to the Bible, wives are to submit to their husbands. I had to wonder, was God kidding?

At the beginning of my marriage, as in most peoples marriages that I have spoken to, there seems to be a period of turmoil before there is a settling down. I remember a particularly tumultuous time where I believe my Hoover was kicked down the stairs at my angry, but unsuspecting husband much to his dismay and my own, at the knee-jerk reflex I was capable of. Mind you, I was pregnant at the time and incapable of much self-control when really upset. Soon after, I realized something would have to change if we were to succeed in this marriage and although I really wanted to think that it would have to be my husband, I was smart enough to realize that it had to start with me. He also wasn't being very receptive to my constructive suggestions about the flaws he should work on.

While watching TV one afternoon, a segment came on that was featuring a female writer that had written a book on surrendering in your marriage. I am sure the title is similar to that, but I am unsure as I write this. I knew I had to read it and ordered it soon after. It began the change in me. Often, I challenge my "stallion," especially because he likes to run free and wild with his mouth and often say things like "I command you" when he is jesting with me. He knows it gets my fur up and claws out and I will often respond with something G-rated (of course) like "no one COMMANDS me." I am wrong, though. We are commanded every day in life. I took an oath when I said my vows that binds me to, among other things, consider my husband above others and to listen, assist, and stay with him through the good, bad, and dirty-diapery. I need to accept his leadership and believe in him, while being free to offer to him my opinions and feelings on a matter. Through the years, I have come to depend on him. He does not fail me, and ultimately, I am entrusted to him for him to care for for the rest of our lives. If I believe in him, trust him, and understand the part I play in our marriage to make it a wonderful and joyous part of life, I must submit. This is not to say that I roll over and allow him to bite and nip me (notice what I left out), but that I understand the dynamics of our relationship and have a responsibility to do my part to make it work.

Others have mastered submission in marriage more so than myself. For me, it is a struggle to balance my strength and my pride with my ability to submit. The joy, I have to remind myself, is in the journey that life brings us on. Growth doesn't happen overnight, and for me, can sometimes take decades. More on this later. Woof woof!

How I Met My Man-"Stallion"

At this time of Thanksgiving, I wanted to give special thanks for my great man-"stallion." We have been together almost 15 years now and it only gets better each year. Actually, it only gets more comfortable, like a great chenille chair with down cushions. He is my best friend and the one who if I HAD to pick one person that I was forced to spend all my time with-it would be him. We, of course, wouldn't always get along and I would do most of the talking, but he would be the person, nonetheless.



I love for people to share how they met their beloved, so for those of you who don't already know or want to hear it again, I will share how my husband and I came to get together. Our first date was on my birthday, which is coming up in a couple of weeks (I'll be 25 again!). I had just moved to Oshkosh after finishing nursing school and was looking for a house or condo to purchase. I ended up in my mans condo with the realtor when the realtor stated, "You would be a good match for the young man who lives here." My man was not in the condo at the time and when I left the viewing, he was down the block walking his dog and I could only see his back. I did not buy the condo and thought nothing else of it. I was a psychiatric nurse and wanted to work at the state mental hospital in Winnebago. I applied, was accepted, and wound up on the same unit as my man (there were 13 units at the hospital at that time, and no, he was not a patient). We worked together, and as he would exclaim to anyone who will listen, I eventually asked him out. The rest is full of the usual highs and lows with the end result being a long marriage and many boys. Life is good.



I love the story of how we found each other and it instills in me the belief that we are truly matched and were meant to be together. Of course, I need to remind myself of this everytime he decides to be a little lippy with me. So, I would like to start out the season of Thanksgiving by being thankful for my spouse. The joy I find in the comfort of having him is indescribable and such a blessing. I would love to hear other stories of how people met. Write and let me know!

Men Can Blog Here, Too

Today, I went into church and was pleased to find that a few people had noticed the email I sent about this blog and had checked on it. I was then teased by a couple of guys whom I consider handsome and intelligent (brownie points) that they didn't think they could subscribe to this blog. I am writing to inform any of you in the Y chromosome group that you are VERY welcome to visit the blog and add your opinions. Your wives will certainly like the blog, but we will be touching on topics such as raising children, submission in a marriage (what's that?), and being real in relationships while living in today's world. You might have an opinion, I know my husband always gives his even if its unsolicited. A matter of fact, he just stated he wants to be an author on this site. Stallion (my husband Heath) likes to pretend we live in the era of Little House on the Prairie and he is Charles offering all this sound advice to the rest of us, the Ingals minions. That must make me Carol in this scenario and I am not sure I fit that part. I'm probably closer to Mrs. Olsen. Anyway, consider this a formal invitation. You can now belong to an elite group of people striving to live a blessed and joyful life. RSVP