Committing Marriage-Part 2 of 2

I shared last time, in nearly its entirety, ways in which I've been able to show and share my commitment to Claire through unity in our daily activities. It isn't anything that's going to win me any awards in the public view, but I certainly feel better about myself and about our marriage on those days when we are able to give a hard pull and pull together. I'm reminded of the analogy given by Elder Boyd K. Packer, a superb educator and an Apostle of The Lord Jesus Christ, of a team of oxen. They're not the most glamorous animal to be compared to, it is true. Yet, the principle that they teach is one so simple, and yet so vital and appropriate that I can't help but draw upon it.  There are competitions in more rural parts of this country, where teams of oxen are pitted in contests of strength, given the challenge to successfully move increasingly weighted sleds a predetermined distance.  Elder Packer, describing this event, tells of the impressive strength and sheer enormity of some of these teams. Being somewhere along the scale between a cow and a bison, it seems easy to understand his wonder. He makes clear, however, that the most successful teams are not always the biggest and most obviously strongest specimens. Instead, the deciding factor between victory and defeat has to do with the unity of the animals as a team, often referred to simply as a yoke of oxen. The yoke is the large wooden harness, often carved from a single beam and custom-fitted to each individual animal. Unity is exhibited in the ability of the oxen to pull together simultaneously, as well as equal in strength. There is no room for either superstars or freeloaders in this arrangement. Because the yoke is a single piece for both, if both animals fail to push in balance of timing and strength, the late or shirking animal is thrown to its knees, bringing the other with it. 

I'm reminded of a random chick-flick where the protagonist makes the mistake of comparing his beloved to his horse's flanks or something similar, giving deep hurt and offense to his intended, in spite of his good intent and adoration. I hope that Claire will forgive me, for comparing the both of us to oxen. I must say, at this point, that Claire is my perfect match, perfectly completing my yoke. She matches me, pull for pull, in everything I do. In the past several months, I've been trying much harder to step into my role as the Priesthood holder in our home, trying to initiate family prayers, scripture study, home evenings, and all the rest of the things that we, as members of the Chirch of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, have been counseled to do in order to strengthen our family.  She supports me and sustains me through each initiation and decision. Our family has been so richly blessed because she is supportive of what I am trying to do.  

To a much more visible degree, Claire supports and lends her strength and labor to my goals as a provider and a professional.  I've decided, in the past two-and-a-half years, that I want to become a pediatrician. More than that, I want to become a triple-boarded pediatrician, meaning that I'll be board certified in Pediatrics, General Psychiatry, and Adolescent and Child Psychiatry.  It gets worse. I've also recently decided that I'm very interested in a combined MD/PhD program. Are you impressed with Claire's patience and dedication yet?  If not, let me break down what that means for us, in terms of time investment. 

I have another year yet until I complete my Masters degree here at Erikson. In that time, I need to also take a course each in College Algebra and General Biology. These prerequisites will enable me to get into the certificate program, ideally a year-long program, that will give me the necessary background in the hard sciences to perform well on the MCAT and apply to medical school.  Medical school is typically a four-year experience, but an MD/PhD program doubles that, adding four years of doctoral study in Neuroscience between Medical years 2 & 3. Eight years of medical study later, I'll be ready to move on to my residency. For General Pediatrics, this represents a three-year commitment to hands-on practice and learning; with the Triple-Board program I've got my eye on, it represents five.  15 years from now, I'll ideally be ready to practice. The only upside to all this is that, in the MD/PhD program, all tuition is waived and they provide a small living stipend, which means minimal student loan debt. A very thin silver lining to this immense and totally elective thunderhead brewing over our family's collective head. 

My point in detailing these plans is this: if Claire had any slightly different attitude about our marriage, our role as a team, and what that means for us in living our daily lives, this would not even be something I would have remotely ever considered.  There have been numerous conversations where I've wanted to look figuratively behind me at the load I've elected to move and say, "It's too big, I can't move it, and were both going to die trying for my foolishness."  It's been these same times that Claire takes opportunity to calmly and serenely whisper encouragement and reassurance to my troubled dumb-ox mind.  It's been due to her attitude of, "We CAN do this. It will take both of us, and it will certainly be no walk in the park, but together, we can move this load, and we can be the better for it."  My only consolation in undertaking this load is to know that there will come a day that we successfully reach the end-goal, and we will most definitely be the stronger for it. At that point, our sled will be empty again, and Claire can load it with whatever it is that she wishes at that point, and the process can begin again. 

My last words of this post will be this:  marriage is about commitment and unity. In purpose, in desire, in faith and in tenacity, we must be united. I thank The Lord that I have been blessed with such an incredible woman who is so committed to me, to our family, and to her testimony of the Restored Gospel of Jesus Christ. I have been already and will continue to be richly blessed, because we share such unified opinion and intent in our marriage. We will give a long pull, a strong pull, and we will pull together. This is our marriage. 

Day (in a loose, Biblical sense) 9: Committing Marriage- Part 1 of 2

I find it gruesomely fascinating to consider the popular view of marriage portrayed in movies and the lives of celebrities today. There is often meticulous attention paid to the details of what should happen when the marriage fails. There is little to nothing said about the details of ensuring that it doesn't fail. For some reason, the former perspective is regarded as being more practical or realistic than the latter. This post is to offer my humble perspective on this matter, in the form of my personal experience. 

I believe there are some who may have formed an unrealistic picture of my wife and what she chooses to accomplish in the course of a day, based on my previous posts. However, lest any come to resent her for seeming to accomplish more than is possible to the everyday woman, she is the first to confess her own imperfections and shortcomings. I must, however, preface my following words by saying first that I discussed the possible content of this post with Claire, and she supported it entirely. That being said, let me make clear a point that may not have been explicit in the previous posts. The experiences and examples that I gave of Claire are what she chooses to spend the majority of her time doing. They were not the accidental outcome of a random intersection of a mother-daughter dyad. Those practices and characteristics are conscious choices. As with all choices, there are consequences; in economics, they call it opportunity cost. It is the value of your forgone next-best-choice. For us, this has meant that meals are sometimes later than intended, dishes often pile up, and our house looks happily lived in. I'll be quick to say that this is not a criticism, nor is it a suggestion. It is, first and foremost, an opportunity. Not for Claire to become a better multi-tasker. Not for her to improve her prowess and acclaim as a mother by doing more in less time. No, this opportunity belongs to me. 

Reality is not what was portrayed in the 50's: there is no mother who cleans house in heels and pearls, laying out robe, pipe, paper, and slippers for her returning husband. (I wouldn't mind a pipe; I think they exude class and credibility. Mine would have to be custom, though. Maybe outfitted to blow bubbles...)  Claire is no exception. She is an exceptional mother.  In my opinion, the best I've ever seen. This does mean that there are some things which she does not have time to do in the course of her day. Enter me. I have my own apron. Not the flimsy, once-a-year "kiss the cook" variety for the annual outside barbecue where testosterone runs rampant. No, mine is sturdy, thick material, and is very familiar with much use. On days when Claire hasn't been able to fit in all that she wanted to, we dig in together to make things happen. It drives our little girl a bit crazy, to have us both working to clean up the house; she's very particular about her messes. I've seen her return an unused potty chair to the same spot on the floor repeatedly.  However, I think it is good for her to see both of her parents working together to accomplish a goal they both find desirable. We both enjoy a clean house. And it takes both of us, oftentimes, to keep it so. 

My point here is not to point out what a superb husband I am. Anyone who knows me knows the real truth to that, and those who don't, I assure you, I'm as flawed as they come. The point I wish to make is that setting and then achieving worthwhile goals for either or both parents is a joint venture. There is no way nor wisdom to go it alone in an institution initiated with the intent to have two become one.  I wonder if this isn't why marriages today so often fail. Marriage isn't a strategic pooling of assets to gain financial or social advantage. It's an expression of commitment to a person and an ideal. It means that, as couples take the time to counsel together and come to a decision on what is important to both of them, it becomes a joint goal and responsibility to assist the other person in achieving their goal. It's been said that we come to love those we serve. What better way to increase in love for someone than by helping them achieve their greatest potential and dream? 

It is ironic that, at this point, I must leave the telling of the other half of the story, the story of my better half's service to me, for tomorrow. Stay tuned; it makes my measly efforts look as significant as taking the lid off a pen. 

End of part 1.

Day 8 (sort of)

So much for "every day for a month," eh?  Oops.  Oh well.  I'm not going to give in to the OCD side of me that says to quit since I've already blown it.  I'm going to just carry on and pretend it never happened. :)
Justin made me sit down while he does the dishes this evening, and when I argued that he's just as tired as I am he said that's not true because he's not making life.  I thought it was usually the wife using that excuse?  He really is the most thoughtful, kind man I've ever encountered.
We were talking about how active Louise is last night and marveling over how easy she is.  Seems like an oxymoron, doesn't it?  Justin mentioned that by todays classification system, she would be deemed a difficult child because she's so incredibly active.  Always bouncing from one thing to the next, never sitting still for anything except books.  She's definitely a challenge to keep up with and keep occupied, but really is the easiest baby.  There's another oxymoron for you.  I wouldn't change a thing.  "Intense children grow up to be intense adults."  I've never known a more polite 2 year-old, and she's been saying please and thank you unprompted since she was 18 months.  Now she even says sorry when she bumps something or drops something on you or thinks she's hurt or inconvenienced you in any way.  She's pretty good at listening, not always minding, but what 2 year-old is?  She goes to sleep every night at 6:30 or 7 and sleeps solidly until 8 or 8:30 in the morning, and still takes a solid 2 to 2.5 hour nap every afternoon.  She's the happiest child.  She LOVES to dance, thanks to those good Nuckles genes.  I adore how uninhibited she is. :)  In nursery she never gets upset or offended when another kid pushes her or takes her toys, just stares at them in confusion.  She's so friendly to everyone she encounters and frequently says 'I love you' to people in the store.  At the library the other day there was a mother reading a book to her daughter on her lap and Louise just trotted over and plopped on her lap, too.  We're just so grateful for her and the joy that she is in our lives, and grateful that we've been entrusted to be her parents.  We're so excited to see what new dynamic little Cora brings to our family. :)  That's enough for tonight.  Time for some Doctor Who.

Louise with the random lady at the library.

She found some goggles and wouldn't let them out of her sight for a couple days.

This is one of her recent favorite dance moves. :)

Hard at play.

She asked me to take this picture. :)

               

Day 7: The Art of Being a Mother- Part 2 of 2

Selfless: I've never seen an example in selflessness to compare with the mother of my children.  She is so incredibly capable and wonderful; she would excel at anything that she decided to set her mind to.  In almost any other pursuit that she could have chosen, there would be accolades and honors, praises and promotions to accompany and recognize her hard work and sacrifice.  Instead, she's chosen to work full-time in a setting that many today openly ridicule and belittle.  Rather than take a position outside the home, she has elected to raise our children herself, all day, every day.  There's no paid time off, a sick day is just that: a day where she's sick.  Incentive programs consist of hugs, kisses, and sticky fingers reciprocating her handholding.  Benefits are few and far between, and pay... let's face it: the ledger is nearly always in the red.  From a purely pragmatic standpoint, it's a nightmare: it makes no sense.  And yet, I've never been so happy and content as when I get to watch and participate in this endeavor in action.  My wife has expressed to me numerous times just how grateful and selfish she feels, getting to stay home with our children.  Each time, I think how incredibly grateful I am, that she feels that way.  There is nowhere else she would rather be.  I can see it in every decision she makes through night and day and in and out of weeks and almost over a year, as Sendak (Where the Wild Things Are, 1963) put it.  She chooses motherhood.  It's so incredibly evident, as I look for it.  It's not as if she is a social recluse who has no friends, seeking social fulfillment in her children.  On the contrary, she makes great effort in ensuring that she has friends, takes time for herself, and keeps doing other things that she enjoys.  I think she knows that by doing these things, she refreshes her outlook, renews her dedication, and rejuvenates her passion for being a mother.  I can see it in the last look she always gives us as she closes the door as she heads out; her eyes say that she's taking time for herself, but she lives her life for her children.  I'm certainly a beneficiary.  I'm the luckiest man alive.  

Playful:  A child's work is play.  No matter the context, the time, or even the species, the young utilize play as the primary method of learning who and what they'll become as they grow up.  I'm infinitely grateful for my wife: she takes her role seriously enough that she plays with our children.  It's certainly the longer and more difficult road.  Anyone who has experience with children knows that it's so incredibly easy to turn on a television set, a video game, or a smartphone, and get hours of quiet, nearly-uninterrupted time to oneself.  It takes so much more effort to encourage and fully engage young children in play than merely providing them with a set of toys.  Young children are passionate little beings; they feel everything so fully and so completely.  To fully engage them in play often requires meeting them at an affective or emotional level.  This means that, for as long as my wife wants to really hold our toddler's interest, she acts as a reflector, mirroring our daughter's emotions and thereby her experience. Claire does it in such a way that our girl recognizes it as reflective of her own experience, yet it is different enough or "marked" enough that she realizes that Claire is not literally simultaneously sharing in her experience.  Imagine the comfort this affords, and also the anxiety and concern it also avoids.  To learn, through repeated and early experience, that your mother is capable of understanding minutely what you feel as you live life.  Simultaneously, to know that she is not consumed, upset, or even thrown off by the difficulties of your life; it's a precious gift, and one that every child deserves to receive.  A brief verbal description paints a vivid picture: my toddler is heaving around a bucket that's nearly as deep as she is tall.  She has an obsession with carrying anything that has a handle draped neatly over the crook of her elbow as a purse.  She also like to fill this receptacle, no matter its size, to capacity.  This leads to trouble more often than not.  This time can be no different.  She struts into the living room, the oversized bucket swinging wildly and empty, at this point, on her arm as she twirls and dips in a shaky yet exuberant dance.  "And you're dan-cing!"  You can hear the smile and the joy in my wife's voice, just as you can see it in the toddler's dance.  The grin and the loving eyes from my toddler tell Claire that she's painted an accurate picture.  A few moments later, the dance has ended, and the toddler is in the kitchen, emptying the measuring cup drawer into the bucket.  Unfortunately, the bucket is too large, and the contents too heavy for the toddler to lift when completely full.  She grunts and complains for a moment or two before stamping angrily and dissolving into cries and tears.  There's no mistaking the frustration and defeat in that little, passionate body.  "Is it just too heavy?"  There's still a smile in the voice, but it's different somehow, communicating a sense of sadness and commiserating, rather than the ecstasy and enjoyment that were evident earlier.  Claire strikes a delicate balance.  Too little emotional involvement tells the child that her experience is irrelevant and unimportant.  Too much tells her that it is shared and experienced identically by everyone and everything around her, and is therefore to be feared and avoided.  I am so grateful for the fact that my wife chooses to be playful.  

Trusting:  Last of all, my wife is trusting.  It is not always so, but I try to make myself available and present with my family as often as I possibly can.  It may seem laughable, but, on the far side of a Master's degree in Child Development, and a certificate in Infant Parent Mental Health, I have yet to feel like I am Claire's equal in my capacity as a parent.  In spite of my awkwardness, my bumbling, and my inability, Claire chooses to trust me.  She trusts me as a father, and as a parent.  She takes the time to share with me her ideas, thoughts, and impressions, then takes equal time to listen to my own.  She sees and treats me as an equal in our cooperative role as parents.  When she decides to go out, she doesn't ask me to babysit: she expects me to parent.  I've been fortunate enough to be blessed with a wife and mother of my children who trusts me enough to include me in not only the decisions to be made, but the acts and service to be rendered as a full-time parent of young children.  

I'm so incredibly blessed.  I could not have asked for a better woman, or a better mother for my children.  She may not act like every woman thinks a successful woman in the 2010's acts, but she's everything I've ever wanted or wished for in a woman.  I'm privileged to know her, better for loving her, and blessed to be married to her.  

End of Part 2

Day 6: The Art of Being a Mother- Part 1 of 2

There's something to be said for the iPhone.  For all my protest and raving against it, I have no choice but to admit that never before, in the history of humankind, has it been so simple to capture the magic of a single precious moment.  Unfortunately, the camera has to be pointed at you in order for this to take place.  Historically, and some would argue anciently, this was accomplished by asking a random stranger to take a photo of you and yours, so that you might be a recognized participant in the moment, rather than merely the ghostly suggestion and absent presence of the mysterious photographer.  No more is this the case: the "selfie", for good or for ill, is apparently here to stay.  But what about those among us who choose not to engage in the now commonplace practice?  Does this mean that there are whole worlds of interactions, moments, and experiences that are left unshared by the rest of the world?  Can this really be the case?  It is, and I, for one, feel that it's exactly the way things should be.

My only misgiving is that, the above being true, I have little by way of visual evidence to lend credence to the following words.  This is not an apology.  There would be very little to see, in any case.  What I'm about to share is not the sort of thing that makes headlines and garners great attention.  In fact, quite the opposite, I believe it's all too easy to shrug off and leave, forgotten, lying in some corner of our consciousness.  The point to which I wish to speak is the art of being a mother.

Being a man, myself, I have no experience, no qualifications, no credentials that give me authority to say with conviction what others should or should not do in fulfilling this most catalytic role.  What I offer instead are observations, brief summaries of thousands of hours of watching and studying one single mother, throughout a thousand points of time and interaction, developing in skill and ability.  I wish to share, in words, a few moments that have not been captured by camera, but only by my own eyes.  Reflecting now, I realize that, having done the capturing myself, rather than capturing the moments on camera, in capturing I have become captivated; acting as captor, I have become the captive, and this not unwilling.

Patience: It seems to me that all mothers must, of necessity, be saints.  Like Job, my wife is dealt trials and tribulations that are awesome and terrible in their scope.  First, she is married to me.  Lest this be misconstrued, let me explain: she has had to endure the constant waffling, crest to trough, in-again out-again, back-and-forth method of "decision-making" that makes up my life.  She has done so with a steadiness of faith, conviction, and all-around cheerfulness that has been the tiller and sails to my little boat of dreams.  It's a wonder she hasn't been seasick.  Though, maybe we don't call it seasickness; maybe we call it morning sickness.  Goodness knows there's been enough of that.  Still, she endures it without complaint, asking merely for some company and mild assistance, throughout it all.  Twice now, and, by her own admission, more times in the future, she has and will continue to endure it with patience I could only ever hope to have.  Also, if you know nothing else about toddlers, know only this: repetition is learning, messes are productivity, and stubbornness is growth.  A mother must have patience.

Tenacity:  If I learn no other lesson from my wife, I will have learned this: the answer to the question never asked is most certainly "No".  A mother is an advocate, from the first moment of birth.  A wise man once said that with the birth of a child, comes also the birth of a mother.  From that first wonderful cry, the child stands or falls on the ability of her mother to meet her needs.  Nowhere have I seen such passionate pursuance of necessity and nicety as in the meeting of a child's needs, real or imagined, by a mother.  My Claire is nothing if not tenacious.  In Chicago, the popular opinion is that children, from the earliest time possible, should be in preschool programs.  In almost every interaction with mothers, professionals, or peers, she is constantly bombarded and beleaguered as to when and where she'll be enrolling our daughter.  Claire's desire has always been to stay home and be with our children herself; she's expressed that she would feel jealous of any other person who got to be with and care for our children day in and day out.  She never thought that this decision was one that she would find herself fighting for.  And yet, she's waded into the fray unwaveringly, never swaying in her decision or her conviction.  She is nothing if not tenacious.

Repair:  Life is not always rainbows and butterflies: conflict is real and normative.  However, being a mother requires the skillful navigation both into and out of troubled waters.  Setting limits with an almost-two-year-old can be exhausting, difficult, and not without casualties, for reasons mentioned above.  I've watched my wife set limits with our daughter that were met with bouts of literal kicking and screaming.  Through this, Claire manages to remain calm and firm; see both of the previous traits.  When the tantrum is over, however, I have never seen Claire fail to take the opportunity to reach out in love and care for our little girl, and that little girl equally reaches out in love and appreciation for the constancy that is in her mother's capacity to love her, no matter how she acts.  It is through the experience of conflict and disorganization that we rise to higher levels of complexity and organization.  In relationships, this directly applies to love.  The more my daughter sees her mother stay available and adoring no matter how terrible her own experience of anger or frustration, the deeper she will come to love Claire for her constancy.  This does not happen on its own.  I have watched time and time again as Claire creates the opportunity for repair to take place.  It's her responsibility to create, not to coerce: the ultimate decision must be our daughter's.  Rupture in relationships is a certainty.  So too, should repair be.  Let us not forget that after rain, come the rainbows, and after the cocoon, which seems wholly devoid of life, come the butterflies.

End of Part 1

Day 5

This is a sight we happen upon quite regularly in our home.  Almost daily, Louise will disappear into her room for about 5 minutes before we notice that she's being awfully quiet.  We peek in and she's either sprawled on the floor looking at books or sitting in her window with books all around, just perusing the pages.  I absolutely adore it.  She'll sit there for 15 to 20 minutes alone with her books.  If she notices us peeking she'll gesture for us to come sit by her and she'll hand us our own book, not to read to her, but to read to ourselves while she reads. :)  I love it.
Notice the ever-present blankie and binkie.  Her "neenees."

 

Day 4: Bam.

     Well, I've done it 4 days in a row, even if they were pointless, disjointed posts.  I've got to hurry and get this one out of the way because last night I fell asleep in my clothes on top of my covers at like 8:45 because I was so tired, and tonight feels a lot like that.  Justin and I haven't gotten our Doctor Who in about 4 days, so I need to make sure I leave enough time for at least an episode. :)
     Today I had a doctors appointment (what is the proper way to say that? Doctor appointment?).  It's my 2nd ever for this pregnancy (long story, stupid Illinois insurance), and I was kind of looking forward to it for two reasons: 1. I like to know everything is going ok, especially since I waited so long to go to the doctor in the first place and 2. because I was really looking forward to some help with this pain.  I was utterly disappointed.  I made the mistake of bringing Justin and Louise with me because Justin couldn't come last time and wanted to hear the heartbeat and I thought Louise would enjoy hearing it, too and getting to see the doctors and play in the waiting area with the other kids and stuff.  Well, she would have, but by the time we got to see anyone we had been there for 2 hours and she was done.  Poor thing.  I don't understand it, but they have a "No food or drink" sign in the waiting area.  How can they expect pregnant ladies and children to wait for 2 hours without anything to eat or drink? I ignored the sign after the first hour.  Then when we finally got back to see the midwife (I decided to go with a midwife because I had heard that you would get more personal care than with a doctor.  Maybe in Utah) she and the student midwife asked some questions about my history and if I had an epidural with my last birth.  I told them yes, and that I was planning on it again.  They asked some more questions and I mentioned that I have a really high pain tolerance and the contractions before I went to the hospital never actually hurt, they were just really close together, so we went.  They clarified that I had a really high pain tolerance, but still had an epidural.  When I said yes, they exchanged looks and mutters, obviously judging me.  Then I brought up that I'm 99% sure I have SPD she didn't even check or ask questions or say anything compassionate or anything, just typed on her computer and gave me a referral to physical therapy.  She said they'd figure it out there.  Then she left to get some papers on hospital tours and the student measured my stomach and listened to the heartbeat.  While we waited for the midwife, the student, in an effort to...play?...with Louise kept showing her her instruments and lotion, then snatching it away when she reached for it, leaving a confused and frustrated 2 year-old.  The midwife came back, asked what the numbers were and that was that.  We were done.  Two hours of waiting for a 5 minute appointment.  They didn't even mention the baby, or really even the fact that I'm pregnant.  They simply couldn't have cared less.  With Louise, regardless of if I saw Dr. Lunt, the other doctor, or the midwife, they would always tell me what was going on with the baby developmentally, what I might expect that month, ask about my well being and family, they really cared, or at least pretended to.
     There's my rant for the day. :)  I feel better now.