Category: love

Last week I wrote a post about sex, marriage, intimacy, seduction, habits, and courage. It was definitely one of my more personal posts and I will not lie and tell you guys that I didn’t have a hard time hitting “publish”. Luckily, just two days before that I wrote a post all about bikini waxing so I guess I was still feeling some residual bravery.

Apparently I’m becoming conditioned (or maybe you guys are) to just going ahead and telling you guys everything. It’s like my internet-self has gotten confused with my that-third-drink-may-as-well-have-been-truth-serum-self and I just say it like it is now.

Either way, I did hit publish and I was quite surprised and encouraged by the response. It was the most read post I’ve ever written and I got a lot of private messages and comments of the “Me too!” and the “Yes. Thank you for saying this” variety. Which only confirms that you guys are seriously the best and coolest and we really do get each other. I knew I could trust you guys. I just knew it.

One of my writing friends, Melody Reid, who happens to be a fellow Clumsy Blogger wrote a post in response to my own, sharing her perspective and insights on the subject and I wanted to share it with you guys. Melody is wise and she has quite a few more years of marriage under her belt than I do. She handled this delicate subject matter quite gracefully, while still being honest and vulnerable. I enjoyed hearing her thoughts and I think you will too.

Here is a bit of Melody’s response- it’s just a teaser really, so I encourage you to read the full article here

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We said nothing was off the table, right? When we started this writing challenge we said we’d keep it real. We even said we’d talk about sex…

While I wouldn’t exactly qualify myself as a sexpert, I have been having sex with one person for a very long time. Thirteen years to be exact. There are a few things I do know. So let’s talk.

In the spirit of transparency I suppose I should tell you that the first time my husband and I had sex was on our wedding night. We were both virgins until then. Maybe you find that storyline to be antiquated or shocking or unbelievable. Maybe you don’t. Either way, it’s our real story so we may as well start at the beginning.

Of course it wasn’t even remotely easy but we did manage to wait, and there is really only one thing I want to say about that: It can be done, and it can be beautiful. We were able to freely give ourselves to each other without one bit of doubt, guilt, or hesitation. There was only passion and an unflagging joy between us that night. We belonged to each other in every way, and the fact that he is only for me is something I treasure still.

As you can imagine we spent the first portion of our marriage making up for lost time. There was no shortage of seduction on either side. We were finally here, and we were ready to party if you know what I mean. It was simple. It was good.

Cue video montage of life happening in fast forward. Moves. Jobs. Kids. Pets. Different jobs. More moves. If you’re not careful your regular life will take over your sex life and you’ll be less busy gettin’-busy, and more just busy in general. And, well, that just doesn’t sound like very much fun, does it?

Much like any other married couple, over the years we’ve had ups and downs and over time we’ve fallen into patterns. After all, we are creatures of habit, yes? After a certain amount of time, we became a foregone conclusion with each other. We know each other’s signals. We know what to expect from each other. We know each other’s bodies and how they work.

This can be a double edged sword. Read More…

Husband and I have married for 13 years and for the most part, we tend to get along. We don’t argue a lot over every day issues like where to eat or what movie to rent, or how to parent our children. Of course we don’t agree all the time, but in the big scheme of things we work well together. In fact, I’d even go so far as to say that we never really fought at all until our fifth year of marriage when we simultaneously fell on hard times financially and had a colicky baby.

No sleep, no money, and a baby that screams bloody murder for 5+ hours a day is a recipe for conflict. But we got through it. Together. It was one of those seasons in life when you understand that you’re being grown and stretched even while it’s happening. It sucked and it was difficult, but when we did fight, it was an unspoken agreement that we were fighting our way through and towards each other, not away. We were fraying at the edges and had little to give each other, but there was a sense that we were in it together, like we’d burrowed down in a foxhole together until the storm passed.

Regardless of all the storms we’ve survived in our thirteen years as Mr and Mrs, there is one problem I’m not sure we will ever get over. It is the one thing we will never agree on- which one of us is funnier. The underlying and perpetual theme of our entire union is that of Humorous Hubris. We are each fully convinced that we are the “the funny one” in the couple. We joke and tease each other endlessly about it, but deep down in our hearts we each know the truth. (That I’m the funny one.) Read More…

Have you ever backed yourself into a corner as a parent? Thrown out an ultimatum you never wanted to follow through with? Promised a reward you didn’t think you’d actually have to produce? Claimed in a moment of frustration something along the lines of “If you ______ one more time I swear I will ______”? Have you ever regretted it later? 

If so, then I feel you. Let’s just start there.

I myself may, hypothetically, be currently residing in a very tight corner that I may or may not have backed myself into. Hypothetically.

Generally speaking, Husband and I are fairly level-headed with our parenting. I feel I can say that honestly. We try to teach, train, and even discipline our children in love. We try to avoid taking things personally or getting emotionally charged when they challenge us. We try to always bring it back to Jesus and what the Bible says about whatever behavior or attitude that’s become a problem. This helps. This takes the pressure off of us, in a sense. It is a common ground for us parents and kids to meet on. It is a foundation and a filter for how we raise our kids.

And that’s all fine and good.

But every once in a while our kids bust out with a real whopper. Every once in a while we are totally, completely baffled. And a maybe even a little angry. And by “every once in a while” I mean roughly every five minutes. 

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Sometimes we don’t actually say what we love the most about someone until after they’re gone.

Maybe we just couldn’t seem to find the right words or the right time, maybe it felt too silly in the moment, or maybe we just didn’t realize what we loved most about them until we felt their absence in our life.

But every once in a while you get to love someone is so flipping fantastic that you simply must say the things you feel about them.  

*This post was originally published in June of last year, but I’m quietly leaving it here today, in honor of this sweet, hilarious, fascinating woman who went to heaven yesterday. In the wake of her passing, I feel the relevance of this piece with a fresh ache and renewed gratitude for the chance to ‘say the things’ while they could still be heard.*


Two days ago I said “Goodbye” to my grandmother for what feels like the fourth gut wrenching time. While her spirit could never possibly, her body has begun to fail her. She lives in another state and for what feels like far too many times, I have kissed her cheek and left her, wondering if that was “it”.

If I’d see her again.

I always felt like I had more to say.

I always hoped for another chance. Read More…

If I’m being totally honest, I’ve been writing this post for about 4 months. I have started and stopped and then started again, only to end up putting it neatly away. I have spilled my guts on the page and then backspaced and deleted until it felt safe. Comfortable. Gotta keep this one close the chest. Because, what if people think I’m a wacko? What if they misinterpret my meaning? What if they think I’m actually a harlot?

I mean, I do wear a lot of slightly low-cut V-neck shirts, which my mom always insists is a bit hussy-ish, but I am by no means a lady of the night. At least not in the literal way.

Now, metaphorically speaking?

I have played the harlot.

Which I guess is the best segway into this very uncomfortable post that I am finally writing.

You see, I am a huge fan of my comfort zone. 

But sometimes God meets you in a way that is viscerally uncomfortable.

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Hey you.

Hi.

I missed you.

You may or may not have noticed I’ve been somewhat of a cold and distant partner the last couple of weeks. Just when I had you warmed up (okay fine, conditioned) to withstand my endless barrage of words, I went ahead and changed my whole game on you. Nothing but silence. Dead air. You tried to come find me here. Maybe you wanted to talk about it. See if we could make it work… only to be met with empty blank pages and bright red error signals. “Cannot load page.” Do not pass Go. Do not collect 200 dollars. Just nothing.

If it makes you feel any better, you should know I’ve just been sick about it all. The whole thing has me turned inside out. I don’t like these games. I don’t know how to play this role. I’m much more comfortable in the wise cracking supportive best friend role- you know, like if our life were a movie, I’d be the Bonnie Hunt character.

That I know.

But this? playing the coy, petulant, game-playing girlfriend that won’t return your calls? Honestly it all just gives me a stomach ache and sweaty armpits.

I want you to know,

It’s not you. It’s me.

Actually it’s not even me, it’s country music.  Read More…

This Sunday marks 12 years of marriage for Husband and I. It is no surprise that after so many years together, I feel our relationship can best be summed up in a Billy Madison movie quote. Movies are kind of our thing. In fact, I don’t mean to brag or anything, but Husband may be my only equal in remembering and quoting movie lines. He gets me, I guess is the larger point there.

Clearly we were just a couple of kids in love. And clearly I married someone with a sense of humor because sideburns.

Here we are, roughly 12 years, 2 kids, 2 dogs, 8 houses, and countless date nights later. ‘Burns replaced with beard. I have seen every variation of facial hair. You don’t even know…

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