Warm Hearts Happy Family

One of my main frustrations with my husband is…well… it’s rather quite vain if we are being honest.  But bother me it does. 

He doesn’t look good in pictures–ever. Not because he isn’t totally studly in every way, but because he looks like he belongs in a prison cell and not in our living room.  In almost every picture.

He can not seem to figure out how to smile like a normal person for the camera.  But I am not complaining about that–it is a small miracle if he even attempts a smile.  Most of the time I get this:

Do you see where my frustration comes in? We all look so happy, and my husband looks like he is dead inside–living a life of dull boredom that is killing him slowly from the inside out.

The opposite is true however. He is the LIFE of the party, a giant kid really–trapped in an adult body. He is full of energy and happiness in general.

Except when I say lets take a family picture. In true bratty 7 year old form he pouts and refuses to smile.

So dear husband of mine, if I were you I would start smiling or else our children’s children are going to look back and think you were one grumpy ass old man.

The End.

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I have known about the harmful toxins in even the most “trusted” brands of childrens shampoo and body wash for a long time, but still could quite find an alternative that worked. 

Then I came across an opportunity to work with Ecostore USA.  They sent me a few products to test in my home and share my thoughts.  I normally do not persue reviews but this opportunity was perfect for me, as I had been stressing about finding healthier options for both baby care and my household cleaning.

Check out my full review of the company and their products and give them a try.  Not only are the baby care products safe and healthy, but they are far superior to the Johnson and Johnson products I have been using since my kids were born.

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I base the state of my marriage on if my husband makes me a pot of coffee in the morning.  It may sound silly but really, there is no better way to judge.  He isn’t a coffee drinker so by having a cup ready and waiting for me when I get out of bed is a gesture of appreciation, a gesture of love. 

All marriages go through the peaks and valleys of emotion, both love and disdain.  I once heard someone say the beauty of being married is that you are bound to one another until you fall back into love.  I see a lot of truth in that.  

I think my husband and I are perfect together.  He is my best friend and the person above everybody else that I want to spend my time with.  I get just as excited to spend time alone with him now, as I did when we first met.  And I know he feels the same.  We laugh together and bring out the best in one another.

Other times I want to punch him in the face–hard. 

And I know he must feel the same because–on paper–we are pretty incompatible.  I know he wishes I was a a better cook, a better housekeeper, and a lover of sports.  I wish I could crack  open a beer and enjoy a football game with him, I really do.  But I would rather poke my eyes out with a knitting needle…slowly.

So when my husband makes no effort to wake me up with the aroma of Folgers finest blend…I worry.  I worry that he has dipped in a valley.  I worry that I must not be meeting his needs, that his “emotional tank” must be empty.  And thoughts of doubt creep into my head.

When the coffee pot goes empty it is a sign, a small hint to spend time on us.  To spend time connecting and reminding each other that we are friends before anything else.   

Because although valleys are normal, the line into danger is a very small one to cross.  And on the other side may be a current that has its own destination regardless of your will.  A current that will pull you under and pull you so far apart that you can’t make the swim back to each other; no matter how hard you try. 

So I listen to the signs because at the end of the day, the year, our life…my husband is who I want to be next to.  Forever.

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Everytime my husband goes to the store he comes back with a treat for the kids. 

Everytime.

And each time the treat is exactly the same, no variation, not ever.

And each time he walks through the door the kids run up to him jumping up and down eagerly await their “surprise”.

And they KNOW what their long awaited, highly anticipated treat is going to be.

Because it never changes.

Do you want to know what it is?

?

?

?

Orange Tic Tacs.

Huh?

Yes, it confuses me too.

My children, however, are on the exact same page as my husband.  They see that little rectangle full of orange tics (or tacs?) and they go nuts.  They have hit the lottery.  And Dad is the HERO. 

Weird.

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I took the plunge and dyed my hair dark auburn. I have been wanting to take this bold move for awhile and my over-bleached hair kind of made the decision for me.

I had been cheating on my (amazingly beautiful and talented) colorest with a box of do-it-yourself brass blond in a box. 

I then kicked things up another notch and had my cousin highlight the brass away.  A midnight trip to Meijer, a cap and bleach, and a bottle box of wine and we were set.

And that was the night my hair died.

So a month or so later as I stood looking at the monstrosity my hair had become, and I had to make a decision.  No way could I highlight it because I was already platinum.  My brittle hair was screaming for a color deposit and so I said “what the hell”.

What I have learned about myself is 1) I really need to stop being cheap and 2) I can not believe how much of my identity I wrap up into my blond hair.  I am not sure if the latter is good or bad or what.  I just know–that while this is spicy little way to change things up–I am already mourning my blond.

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