Choosing to Love

Alright, here it is. I had to write about love sooner or later. It is a hard topic for me to write about and expect everyone to understand. Everyone has their own perceptions and ideas about what it is, what they need it to be. I've always been "in love" with the idea of being in love. The spark, the initial connection, the butterflies. Even though I know that having an actual relationship is much harder than just being attracted to someone, I have always believed in "love at first sight." And even if it never happened to me, I imagined it happening for someone, somewhere. As I have grown as a person, I still believe, but not with the same innocence I had before.

Love can be very romantic. This is initial love, the obsession stage, the actual "falling in love." This sort of love doesn't last. Before I offend anyone, let me clarify myself. Sexual desire can last throughout your life, but the idea that your mate can do no wrong doesn't. They will leave their socks on the floor, forget to take out the trash, and do a million other things that annoy you. Being in actual, true love is hard work. The kind of love that sustains through time requires more choice and reason. I choose this person and I choose to make them happy--whatever that takes. The tingles are great, and I do think that they can last forever; and yet... Love isn't that simple. Anyone who has had a one-sided crush or had unrequited feelings for someone can tell you that. Just as you can't make the initial infatuation appear where it isn't, you also can't force someone to truly care about what it takes to make you happy. Love has to be selfless. This is hard--as humans we are innately selfish and egocentric. To put someone else's needs and desires before your own, to chose to love them, requires daily effort. I believe that to truly love another person, you have to commit to doing it daily.

I still believe in the idea of a "soulmate" and that there is someone that can make you happier than anyone else can. But your soulmate has to decide that they see something in you worth loving. They have to choose to love you. The reason this is so difficult is because people feel loved by different means. What is enough for one person, isn't for another. What one person needs, their partner may not be able or willing to give. One partner can wind up feeling emotionally abandoned by the other. If each partner cannot or won't give to the other selflessly, the love is destined to fail.

This is empowering! It means that you can have love in a relationship that struggles, as long as both partners are willing to give. It also means that if one relationship ends you can have faith that another will succeed if you find a partner who sees something in you that is worth loving. It gives me hope that someday, someone will not only fall in love with me, but will also make the choice to love me too.

I'll Still Be Me

I remember, one day many years ago, my college roommate and I said, "Let's go to San Diego." We left when she got off work and spent the night driving, drinking coffee, singing at the top of our lungs with the sun roof open and entertaining ourselves by flirting with all-night truck drivers. We arrived at 2:30 in the morning, crashed for a few hours and headed down to Tijuana. We stayed in a dive hotel, spent hours at the beach and drank Coors Lights. I know we called in sick to work and cut classes. We spent money we didn't have and had A BLAST!

When did I become a person with so many responsibilities? I went from a carefree girl to a woman with two kids, two mortgages and an SUV. I go from soccer practice to golf lessons and wouldn't dream of having the kids skip school unless they were REALLY sick (if you're not puking or don't have a fever of at least 102 degrees, you are going to school)! I have a calendar that I actually write appointments on...and keep them. I make advance plans for coffee dates and girl's nights. It's hard to call in sick to work now that my job is caring for two energetic boys who don't like to sit still for a haircut, let alone a "mom break."

And yet, I challenge you to believe me when I say that I am still the same girl. The dreamer who still hasn't fully settled into her life. The one who could stay up all night and still at least partially function the next day. I might take responsibility for my mistakes now, but I still make them. I know when enough is enough and can look forward with no regrets. I still believe in myself and have hopes for my future. No, I won't ever be 18 again. That isn't a bad thing! The amount of growing I have done in the last 15 years is irreplaceable. From the outside looking in you won't see the same girl you saw then or even who I was at 25. But in my heart and in all the ways that matter to me, I am the same. I might go on vacations with friends that are more well-planned than the spontaneous trip to San Diego, but I also don't have to stay in a Motel 6 or drink Coors Light anymore. And let's face it, I would still drive all night, only stopping for coffee. I still sing at the top of my lungs with my hair blowing in the wind and I would definitely flirt with passing truck drivers!

As I've grown older I have grown more confident in who I am too. Back then, I would wait for a boy to call me, I was shy about making friends, and I was self-conscious in my own skin. Now I choose to make a daily effort to look forward with no regrets. When I meet someone new and have a connection with them, we exchange phone numbers. If neither of us calls, I don't sweat it. If we do and develop a friendship...that is great too. I say how I feel without worrying about whether the person I am talking to will like me less. I care about people deeply and without conditions. Those who really love me for me and for the girl that I have always been stick close. They don't judge my feelings, instead, they take them for what they are; mine! They respect me and choose to love me because they want to, not because they have to.

So I have responsibilities now...so what? At the end of the day, I'll still be me. The same girl from whom laughter flows as freely as tears, who is passionate about the people I love, and who will always be a carefree dreamer...with no regrets or apologies. I'll still be me.

Dirt, spiders, and other gross stuff...

I am a girly girl. Yes, I like and play sports (I'm not the most coordinated, but I can hold my own). Yes, when I get home for the day I will put on my p.j.'s right away instead of staying dressed up. Yes, I like to camp, cook out and get sweaty. Still, I am a girly girl. I dress up every day even if I'm just taking the boys to school. I wear heels, I get my hair highlighted, I get pedicures and facials. I camp, but I don't bring anything from the trip into the house until it has been washed and I immediately take a shower.

Somehow I ended up with two sons. My boys are probably normal, but to me they are gross, tacky, and stinky. Don't get me wrong, I love them! But seriously, how many times do I need to hear about what a great burp you just did or turn socks the right side out that are crumpled in a hamper and filled with grass and dirt? I don't like boogers or talking about poop. I have bleached mud, blood, and grass stains out of more things than I can count.

There are days when I really believe that they are finally getting it. We made a rule that all "poop talk" could only happen in the bathroom. I walked by it one day and Sam was in there saying "poop, poop, poop." I guess he just needed to let it out. Once I even found Austin in the bathroom cleaning up the floor (yes he probably made a bigger mess with all the soap and bubbles everywhere, but hey, it's a start). They were actually fighting over who got to vacuum the house a couple days ago.

But then a few weeks ago, they drug home a dead snake from the field by our house. Austin had THREE bloody noses yesterday. Sam tricked me into patting him on the head and I ended up with a hand full of 7-year-old boy sweat. And I swear between golfing, soccer, swimming, chocolate ice cream, and spaghetti I do 2 or more loads of laundry a day!

My favorite time of the day is when they have stripped down, taken a bubble bath, brushed their teeth and are snug in their beds. I come in and cuddle and give them kisses and for those few minutes of heaven I am happy that I had boys instead of girls. Boys love their moms. Boys give hard tight squeezes. Boys don't care if their outfits match or if they have bed head. Boys play with the kids that are having the most fun, not the ones who belong to a certain social group. I love my boys....and I like them too, most of the time....