I’ve found tremendous relief in the fact that it is no longer considered scientifically sound to lump men and women into one muddy pot where everyone is human, but just barely. There were two problems with that for me. One, men and women ARE different. And two, when we generalize, men usually win. And when women lose, everyone loses.
So today I want to talk about two of the many books I’ve picked up recently as I have made improving my marriage my job. The Female Brain, and The Male Brain, both by Louann Brizendine, M.D. I didn’t expect to learn so much about relating to other human beings, or that it would change the way I think about my kids.
This week, I’m with my husband at a marriage intensive in Branson, MO. It’s not an enrichment for people who just want to make their marriage better. It’s for people who have hit the wall.
There are times when you’re stuck and it’s easy to pretend you’re still moving. Other times, it’s so obvious that you are stuck that pretending otherwise would be folly.
We had reached the latter situation.
Hard to believe we met in our 20’s and are now staring down 40. Well, one of us is. I still have a couple of years left. 😉
This has been the hardest year of our married lives, and one of the hardest of our whole lives – it feels unfair at times because at our age, it seems like we should have started to figure things out.
I hope this period of growth is something we can look back on as the start of something even better than what we already knew.
So many of the photos I found were of Cylon in Dad mode:
helping kids,
holding kids, carrying them where they needed to go. 
And smiling with them.
Happy 40th Birthday to the precious soul I am privileged to do life with.
Last week, I posted about how I met my husband. I’m not a superstitious person, but it still sort of felt risky, in a way. When you talk about how good things are, that’s when it typically falls apart, right?
Just days later, shit hit the fan.
I do my cussing sparingly, but there is just no other way to put it.
It kind of amazes me that we could have been living together as teammates and life partners for more than 11 years and hadn’t been able to peel back the layers. Honestly, we hadn’t been forced to. It was easy to assume we could get away with not doing it.
But then we had to.
I was a young single mom with a four month old baby the first time I met my future husband. To his eternal chagrin, he doesn’t remember. We met at one of my good friend’s parents’ house for Easter dinner. We sat across from one another during the meal. At some point during the day, he showed me a photo of his girlfriend, but I don’t think we talked much.
I remember hearing him discuss philosophy with my friend’s dad in the next room later on. I liked the sound of his voice.
Three years later, my friend was getting married to his good friend, and we were both invited.
