Warm Hearts Happy Family

I am a strong person, always have been.  I am a problem solver, a solution finder–always.  I am the level headed one, the person people bring their problems to.  The one that can see a situation from all angles, all possibilities, all sides, almost immediately.  I have always put my identity in my strength, in my ability to meet my goals.

So imagine my surprise when I completely fell apart. 

As the cool air started blowing in it’s crisp promises of fall fun, so did it blow away the person I once knew.  No longer did I have things together, but instead I was wasting away in my anxiety.  Somehow my anxiety, always lurking and hiding in the shadows, had found the upper hand.  Had found a weakness in my armor, and had taken over my life.

My most important definition of success–creating a genuinely joyful life for my family–was being tested, strained, and beaten.  I pride myself on finding balance, being a working mom and an attached parent.  I had it figured out, joy and balance is my thing.  How did I lose control? 

Everyday tasks like taking my son to preschool, cleaning up spilled juice, or even getting out of bed became mountains to climb.  The second I woke up, the anxiety began churning–thoughts of what could possibly go wrong that day and how my life seemed so overwhelming.

I didn’t wait very long before seeking help–remember, I am a problem solver at heart.  And I had a big problem.  I took my husband with me to the doctors for support, but mostly so he could hear what was going on straight from the doctor.  Because just as much as I needed a light at the end of the tunnel, so did he.  I know my months of panic attacks that rendered me useless put a huge strain on him.

I also dove right into research to learn about anxiety, to try and put logic into a problem that is anything but logical.  That is when I stumbled upon a word that would connect so many pieces–that would make me feel less crazy–that would give me a feeling of power back into my life.

Emetophobia.

One word answered so many questions and quieted feelings of irrationality and craziness. 

I am on my way back to normal.  After some trial and error with medication, research, and support I am feeling like my old self.  I am feeling back in control, and I am the woman, wife, and mother my family deserves…almost.

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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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Happy anniversary love.  I can’t believe it has been 6 years since our wedding.  2 kids and 50 pounds later, I love you more than I did then.  You are still my best friend and my most favorite person.

Big fat smooches.

Here is to less irritation with each other, and more appreciation. Can’t wait to see what this next year brings.

Here is a photo montage starting with us in 1999, and ending this past weekend.

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Having a tall husband kicks ass.  Ony several different levels–let me break them down:

First, and most importantly, when you are 5′1 and your husband is 6′5, he is always looking at you from a downward angle.  Downward people!  No wonder he seems oblivious to the fact that I am indeed fat!  This is the short chubby woman’s lottery.  And, BONUS!  My boobs are so big that is where is line of vision probably stops.  Beautiful.

Another brilliant benefit of having a big ol man at home, is he turns from man to human jungle gym instantly.  Down on all 4’s he has enough back space to ride 2 kids (with room for a third…hmmm…one day) horseback at the same time.  Standing upright he reminds me of a strong oak tree–suitable for swinging and climbing on.

If, and let me stress if, some crazy stalker were scoping out our house with malicious intent…the sight of a large-and-in-charge man might be more hassle than our little house is worth.  I tell myself that anyway.

So honey, your mind and friendship are why I married you, but your body is what keeps me around

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My phone conversation with my husband yesterday:

Tim:  Even though our kids may not always listen, the one thing they do have is great manners. 

Me:  Yes they do…(cut off as usual by him)

Tim:  They say please and thank-you so well and they mean it.  They are such sweet kids. 

Me:  I know, they are the sweetest…(cut off.  again.)

Tim:  I don’t know where they get it from either.  Its like they were just born to have manners, its so weird.

Me:  *I actually moved the phone away from my ear and just stared at it.  Silent and blinking.  To make sure I processed what I had just heard correctly*

Tim:  Hello?

Me:  They just magically learned their manners?

Tim:  Well you know what I mean.

Me:  Actually Timmy, I worked really hard to teach our kids to be polite.  And I have been pretty succesful despite who their outrageously annoying fun-loving father is.

Tim:  Huh.  OK, gotta go.

Click.

PS Babe:  When I remind you to say please and thank-you–and heaven help us–excuse-me when the appropriate time calls, it isn’t to be a beastly nag.  It is because kids do as their parents do.  So with a little nagging nudging by me you have actually taught our babies their manners too! 

Crazy concept I know.

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