The Words Every Man Prays His Wife Hears

So sometimes I get called out for the "preemptive laugh." Like where I'm laughing before the joke/story has even been told bc I can already feel that it's going to be good.
Well, I'll have you know that I'm currently doing some preemptive chuckling as I'm thinking about writing this post. This is some good stuff, y'all!
First off, please meet Dr. Uzzi Reiss.

What you can't see in this picture:  his bright green and blue glasses.   his stand out height of 5 foot-ish. You can't hear his adorable Israeli  accent, where all the w's are  pronounced as a v and things of the sort. So, if you don't mind, please read with an accent.
Here goes.
So I sit my little self down in front of Dr. Reiss to talk about getting my hormones in check- my 2013 goal in case you were wondering. And, I kid you not, not THIRTY seconds later, homeboy wants to know how my sex drive is, aka my sex life. Well let's just skip the small chat why don't we. I'm a bit caught off guard but I know that hormones and sex drive are related so it sounds legit and I proceed to be all, "Well yeah things are fine but of course I would love more of a sex drive," confesses every tired, 30-something mama.
And this is precisely when he looks me dead in the eye and says, "I want you having sex four times a week." Now, at this point I'm not sure if I'm only momentarily gasping for breath, or possibly just choking on my spit. But there's some definite irregularities in both the heart beating and respiratory departments. And, not to mention, I am wildly sifting through my mental files, wondering if I mentioned to Yosh the specific name of the doctor I was going to and just how much money he paid doc to dish out this command.
Uzzi, he's a smart one, and he picks up on my reaction but is unphased.
"Vhat? I am 68 years old," he says with his hand over his heart. "My vife and I, at least--at least...4 or 5 times a veek."
And so the preacher had preached. Or at least begun the sermon.
"Jou have vour children. Jou have, HAVE, to stay a family." Amen.
"Jou have to communicate. Jou tell him, 'Honey, I vould love to spend time vith you. But I have a lot of work. Jou help me and then......ve celebrate.' Jou must commicate. Jou tell him vhen jou're high, vhen jou're low."
Well forget the fact that I hadn't come for relationship help and that I had no idea I signed up for Marriage 101. I was sitting there soaking up pure wisdom like Sponge Bob Square Pants. Uzzi was dishing, y'all.
"Now....let me tell jou how it vorks. 2 nights a veek, jou initiate. He has to do vhatever jou tell him- a 20 minute massage, vhatever. 2 nights a veek, he initiates and jou have to do whatever he vants." With that last statement, I am no longer wondering, I KNOW...Yosh has paid big bucks. Like possibly mortgaged our house money. These are bribed, dirty words falling from Dr. Uzzi's tongue.
But this Uzzi man, he's a professional. He knows how to seal the deal, to dissipate doubt, to cover the crime. And he did it with his, closing statement.
"Jou vill NEVER meet a divorced couple that vas having sex four times a veek. A dysfunctional couple? Yes. A divorced couple, NO."
How does one argue that?
You von, Uz, you von.
Care to argue??!
What do you think about this advice? Do you agree? Disagree? Question?   K, now it's your turn to dish. And check out my Facebook feed for a little bit of comedy mixed in with solid sex advice.

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What to do when someone pops the question...

I can't tell you when I started dreaming about the day I would say "I do" to that special someone. But I'll have you know, it was right up there with how much I used to think about when I was going to get my next split cup slurp. And one summer, I averaged about 10 of those bad boys per week. No need to remind me that there's only 7 days in a week....
Point being, I remember always being very curious about who I would marry. I wasn't necessarily in a huge hurry to become a Mrs, but my curious nature was just a itching to know that important detail of whose Mrs I would be.
It didn't take long after meeting the Yosh that I thought perhaps...this would be the boy I'd be sealing the deal with.

So come one fall day in October, we- Yosh and I- were out the door to do do a little golfing. Golfing, what?!! I know. I'm not a golfer. Like at all. But please tell me, what spells love more than a stalwart gentleman teaching his lady the proper way to swing a golf club? Him having to hold her close to demonstrate the proper form, again and again......and again. I'm here to fully confess that golfing rivals the most romantic of outings....if done properly!
So basically, logistics aside, we were going to stand extra close to each other, get in a lot of love and affection, and chalk it all up in the name of golf. And all that was going as planned, when Yoshi suddenly dropped to one knee and switched the golf ball out for a small rectangular box and placed it squarely on the tee. The change of events registered quickly and I instantly knew what was going on.
And so I did as any nerve-infested girl would do. I started giggling. And slowly backing away. And giggling more. And backing away.
Yosh begged me to return back to the picture frame as it was getting kind of awkward kneeling all alone by the golf tee. As I made my way back to the props-- you know, the boy and the knee and the ring--, my nerves were still in overdrive and I was completely intoxicated with the giggles. One might say insanity? had taken over. At least that's what I'll be claiming til the day I die because what I did next could have made me a murderer faster than I could even become a wife. 
I found myself back by his side and unconsciously I drew that golf club back as the master himself had taught me to do, I let out a giddy "You're making me nervous!!!!"- excessive explanation marks intended-, and swung at Yosh's head with the precision of a novice golfer. You know, kinda like when you get all giddy and throw a light little playful punch. Along those lines. But....think golf club and maybe not too light....whoops. Yosh's eyes were as big as...well, just regular eyeballs but whatever, he has small eyes.  And he was just as confused as any Alzheimer-stricken grandma. The last thing a humble man expects to happen when you propose to the girl you love....is for her to take a strike at you. That's just not how the storybooks have it spelled out.  But despite his dazed and confused state, he managed to matrix back, avoiding the blow of heavy metal and face. And instead of kissing his face for the next few hours and calling everyone and their dog to tell them about our merry engagement, I would've been driving him to the ER, hoping that a plastic surgeon was on call to fix this whole, big misunderstanding.
I finally found it in myself to say yes, that yes I would marry him. More bewildering was the fact that he accepted my acceptance of the proposal even though he was quite sure I had nearly decapitated him. Because, let's be honest, a re-nig on the deal would've been understandable.
So the secret is out- the real foundation for a solid marriage...do something super crazy that scares the crap out of your man and makes him question your insanity. That way, anything else you do down the road pales in comparison. Take it from us. Today we're celebrating 9 years under our belt and are still going strong.

{Dear Diary}

Dear little diary de mio,

I know we haven't talked in a while. I've been a bit evasive, possibly even MIA if you will. But something happened and I wanted to share it with SOMEONE... and I figured you the most appropriate - possibly the only appropriate- audience.

Why you? Well, who else am I going to talk to about fighting with my husband? It can be a bit awkward, you know. But I have the best news EVER.

Ok, so maybe not ever. But let's settle at I have good news. And....I feel like giving myself a big ole pat on the back! Wanna know why?
I found success! Can you believe it, successful fighting. With my husband!

Now, diary, before you go all crazy telling me, "why would you ever be bragging about fighting and I should slap you in the face for such disrespect..."

...will you give me a minute?

Let a girl explain herself.

Por favor.

I remember when we first got married, we were committed to not be fighters. We wanted to have a yell-free home when we had kids and figured we might as well just start off on that note, ya know. That meant we would have to work things out and calmly address dissatisfaction, disagreements, disappointments, and all other 'd' words with out yelling matches. And guess-- just GUESS-- what my first alternate method was?

Ok, you got it. Soooo predictable, huh?!! THE SILENT TREATMENT. Us silly girls! Why do we ever think that'll get through to our sweet boys....they're in heaven when we're quiet! They don't notice that a thing is a matter with us. And even if they do....they're enjoying the silence! Rookie mistake.

And besides the fact that it solved NOTHING, I felt pretty childish giving the silent treatment. So that didn't last long.

From there I moved to something more like the "suppressive method." Like, I would try to talk myself out of being mad. Give myself every reason to tell myself I shouldn't be feeling the way I was feeling.

Yea, that didn't last either. Issues always find surface. The deeper/longer I bury them, it's with more vengeance when they finally break surface.

So scratch that idea. My next developmental phase- do you think it's ok if I call it that? I think I like the idea of looking at the whole thing as a process, a project if you will. Anyway my next developmental phase had me bringing up subjects, and trying to talk about them BUT....backing down when one of us got heated. Because, remember....we weren't gonna be fighters. So we didn't get to the bottom of the problem.

But with issues coming in as happens in all relationships, and not many going out because of my failed methodologies, I made a decision....I was gonna become a Fighter! Yea baby! And a yeller, too, if needs be. WATCH...OUT!

And with this decision, we got to the root of an issue or two. No backing down over here! I was finding my voice and expressing it and solving my piece and it felt GOOD!

That taught me-- get to the bottom of issues. If you're not satisfied, don't be afraid to talk about it again. And more.  And again. Until I was satisfied. EVERY GUY'S WORST NIGHTMARE! I loved the feeling of really dissolving the problem COMPLETELY and not have it keep resurfacing because we never had found the root.

But....I didn't love the whole yelling thing.

This last time.....well.....we nailed it! We did it! And we did it right!

I got my feelings hurt. He knew he hurt my feelings. He knew he had screwed up. I knew he knew he had screwed up. He said he was sorry. I told his it was ok. And HERE...is where I did something different than I had really been doing before.

Before, I thought I had to be MAD to justify needing time and space. But that's not true. Just a natural consequence of being hurt is a wound and even when it doesn't hurt anymore, the wound is still open. And it naturally takes just a little bit of time to heal up. And that's what my soul was going through....sorry! {But not really.} I needed time and space even though I wasn't mad.

  

We talked about the issue, and were very direct, I said my piece, he said his, and even though we understood each other...it felt good to be true to what I was feeling and just SAY I needed a little bit of space for a couple of days. I was over the issue, I wasn't holding anything over his head, I wasn't resentful about anything....I just needed time to get that little open wound all closed up.

And guess what? It closed up! Completely. Without a scar. Without a lingering infection that was bound to show it's ugly face again.

We did it without yelling. Without silence. Without faking that everything was okay when it wasn't.  Without rushing the healing process out of guilt.

We did it with respect. With honesty. With patience. With understanding.

It felt good.

I think after all these years I've figured out a thing or two, about being true to myself, about validating my feelings, about being true to my husband {he deserves to know when I'm hurt}  and trusting him...that he'll let me come back after I'm done hurting.

So, that's all. That's my confession. I'm already feeling you pat my back. And feel free to use this tactic, little miss diary...it's a good one and I know you got to be getting a few paper cuts among all the ones you're handing out!

xoxo,
la gay gay-cita

The Secret to Love

I'm going to tell you a secret. It's a secret about LOVE. And who doesn't want love?!! Don't deny it baby!

What started out as a little suspicion has attached itself to my soul as fact.

***

Dare we talk about bad days?

Oh wait, we've already done that way too often this last month!

PS I'm having an awesome day. And I've had a lot of good days in a row.  Phew...I think the little gray cloud has stopped following me!

Anyways, this bad day was years ago. I was driving down the road in my hometown of good ole Fenton, MO. I had the radio blaring in my little beige Mazda Protege and unfortunately it wasn't numbing out my equally loud thoughts about how life was dumb and I was sad and I probably hated my job that day and surely I had no friends and my family was far away and I was hungry and probably fat too and how everything would just be better....if I were married. Everything would just be better if I were married? Really? That would solve all my problems?And even in that exact moment... I knew how absolutely absurd that thought was.

Being married does not equal happiness.

***

Yosh and I had recently moved to California. We were far from family. We had yet to make real good friends. He was at a new job. I was new to my job- a stay-at-home mom. There was a lot of newness going on. And in this transitional discomfort, we quickly became each other's everything- support, social life, therapist, friend, etc. We only had each other. Which is a humbling yet very important feeling for newlyweds to have. It's a bonding agent. But it's not everything.

I remember the first weekend the Yosh Train ditched me for a solo trip. His friends (this would be you Sam and Cami!) were getting married and finances forced me to draw the short straw and stay back with little 5-month-old Dallin B. It would be my first weekend alone.

Now the way I was reluctantly anticipating his departure you would have thought I never spent a weekend alone in the 23 years leading up to meeting him! My little heart palpitations had moments of crack-ingested-type symptoms if you will. I found myself subconsciously daydreaming about the perfect scenario that would make him miss his plane (which ironically almost happened!) I wondered what in the heck I was going to do for a full TWELVE hours alone on Saturday. As if that wasn't my life Monday through Friday. But Saturday??? That was fixin to throw me for a loop.

And to think I'm an independent personality. Mostly.

With no crutches to lean on- no family, no friends, and now no husband- I woke up Saturday morning very aware that I had the whole day ahead of me. I loaded Dallin up in the stroller and the two of us took off aimlessly toward the Boulevard.

The first couple blocks were spent quickly planning an agenda of how to get through the day and night...until Yosh got home the next day. I was simply thinking of filling time. 

I was soon captivated by the energy of Ventura Boulevard. Have you ever been there? There's always people out strolling just to stroll. Leisurely sitting at sidewalk tables drinking their morning coffee. Lots of dog walking- people love their dogs out there. There's the shops. The restaurants.

It's alive. It literally breathes life into me.

And that day was no exception. It took only a snap of a finger to jolt me awake to all the opportunity and aliveness around me. It was then my choice: I could get through, filling time. But that's not my style. That sounds kinda lame. Actually really lame. Or I could choose to experience life. And enjoy. All alone. With the exception of my baby boy.

And I hoped that Yosh was doing the same: enjoying and experiencing and seizing. ALONE.

And intricately woven into that decision was highlighted the secret that I had begun to suspect all those years ago on that ride with just me and the Protege. And now I'm going to share it:

A HAPPY, HEALTHY relationship is comprised of two independently...healthy, happy individuals...working together.

How happy are YOU? How healthy are YOU?

TBC...pronto...because this is only the first part of the secret. I'm going to tell you why it's a risk-free approach to love.

{What's your first thought when you read that: A HAPPY, HEALTHY relationship is comprised of two independently...healthy, happy individuals...working together. Go on ahead and conversate...you know you want to! And I really want you to!}

8 years ago today, I married.......

..........a stranger. I remember calling my older brother to tell him I was getting married and his exasperated response was, "To who? Cesar?" {the guy I was dating before}. It'll remain a mystery if he really didn't know who my current boyfriend was or if he was making a point. But after 3 1/2 months of dating, 2 months of engagement...he was all mine. Thank goodness that the both of us apparently have a knack for picking strangers.... who would end up being an impeccable companion? I'll take it.


I was thinking back to "the beginning" and felt myself getting a little embarrassed at the immaturity of the relationship, our shallow understanding of the inclusive definition of marriage at the time. I recognized the progress we've made since then. I think in doing that, it sparked an 'ah-ha!' moment...it wasn't immaturity per se all those years ago, it was simply the starting line. If I looked back and didn't feel a comparative sense of immaturity and shallowness, THAT would be a problem. Because it would hint at a lack of growth. And that's really my goal in all of this...growth, slowly pressing forward toward a better me, a better us. So there's absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about! It's not so important our current stationary point on the graph, but rather the direction we're headed.  I think the path we're on has us moving upward and- with no comparison necessary- that leaves me satisfied.  That, and the fact...that he's definitely no longer a stranger.

{PS Doesn't it kinda look like Yosh is coming at me with a windpipe or something?!!}

{PSS You're not getting sick of this sweater yet, are you?}

 FORWARD MOVEMENT, PEOPLE...THAT'S WHAT IT'S ALL ABOUT!
Of course we'll be celebrating. At home. With 4 kids. And cereal and milk. Unless one of us has a baby-sitter and surprise up their sleeve. I don't. But Yosh, you still got time...!
OH YEAH, AND HAPPY ANNIVERSARY TO US!

As Is

There is truth in saying life is like a roller coaster. But better said, it's absolute truth that life is a roller coaster ride. I've reached this point in the maturing process where I recognize the existence of ups and downs and I respect that cycle. But I'm finally learning to go all in when life is on the ups and let all guards down. I'm throwing away the mentality of only cautiously enjoying the high in order to better brace myself for the low; the low that I just have to ride out.

Just been thinking about how good life has been lately. And finally not worrying about the next dip.

Mama, No Stress Deeter out

I swear, he really said that to me. Like August 7, 2011 or something.

But I've been thinking about stress lately. And anxiety. And ya'll I've had a few light bulb moments.

I admit... I was emotionally dumping on a friend. She told me what she perceived the source of my anxiety to be: kids, a lot on my plate, and not having all the schedules jig-sawed together quite yet. I took that thought home, sat on it, analyzed it, re-analyzed it, and then just for good measure, re-re-analyzed it. After realizing that was a cause of stress but not anxiety- and for the first time being able to separate the two- I was able to troubleshoot my two main anxiety* sources:
(*my definition of anxiety goes something like this: those conversations you have in your head that make you feel like you're on a merry-go-round, often times creating more confusion as the ride continues and result in no solutions.)

1)finances
2)marriage

Serious? This was actually good news...I thought my whole life was in distress, but I only have two areas. What a relief!
Now don't get nervous (or excited depending on your personality type!), I'm not airing any dirty laundry here. Neither one of these areas is in crisis. Which made me ask myself what I was doing differently in these areas of my life versus those that I wasn't feeling anxious in. (ie: being a mom which would seem to be a natural cause of anxiety.)

We've gotten in a good rhythm where our normal spending habits are within our means. I can take care of all our families' needs and lots of mama's wants without breaking the bank account. So why in the world is this a source of anxiety?

My marriage seems to fit inside very comfortable parameters as well. We still like each other, we still get good laughs out of each other, our kids are a top priority, we don't fight much, etc. I feel respected and valued and really think I got a good one when it comes to husbands. So, same question...why is there anxiety here?

I found the answer....I'm living without focus and a plan in these aspects of life.

When we first moved to CA, we were so excited to make money and live on a budget (we genuinely were excited to live on a budget cuz we're nerdy like that.) Yosh set me up with an excel sheet and throughout the month I entered our expenses and the spreadsheet automatically did the calculations telling me how much money we had left in each category to last us until the end of the month. I always knew exactly where we stood and how much money was left to spend. Can I tell you how liberated I felt when we started doing this? I would've thought the contrary, that a budget would imprison me, that it would be that voice you couldn't shut up yelling, "Nooooooo don't buy that." But it had quite the opposite effect. Every purchase I made was deliberate and guilt free. I loved it and swore I would always keep the habit up regardless of our circumstances. Well we've (ok, actually just me. Yosh uses Mint.com to track everything but I've got nothing!) since got away from that practice and the anxiety has crept back in. I don't have a plan for spending and that leaves me feeling: a)like I'm bleeding money, b)irresponsible and c)indulgent. Because I haven't taken the time to make most of these choices ONE time at the beginning of the month, I'm having to confront them multiple times a week, on the spot, without a reference point. Hence the anxiety. Get back on a budget, Gay, and you'll be free!

Now onto marriage. I've never done this whole married thing before. I've never been in a committed relationship for the long haul, and then on top of that taken on a joint venture as huge as a family before. And in the same breath I would say navigating my way through marriage hasn't been as innate as other roles I've taken on (ie: once again, being a mom.) Because of this, I find myself having the same monologue, "Should he be doing that or should I be doing that? Should I tell him we're doing this or wait and see if he knows? I don't want him to get mad. But I do want this to get done. Am I being too demanding? Am I not asking enough of him? Do other couples have this problem? Are we normal? Is it just me? I probably need to change. But maybe he should change." And all of this takes place in a matter of 15 seconds. Believe me, I get just as nauseous in the moment as you just did from reading that. But here's the thing...we're novices in the marriage department! We're definitely doing ok at it and have our heads above water but I don't want an "ok" marriage, I want an AWESOME one, not kidding. I have to think there's a more efficient way to achieve this than him and I kind of guessing our way along the journey. So while I don't think I should have it all figured out, I do think a plan would line out some expectations for each of us, give us the tools to deal with whatever issues arise, and therefore lessen the anxiety. I've been telling myself to just buck up and get a few tips by going to a couple of counseling sessions or read a marriage book. Now I just need to do it!

My overall conclusion is that when I don't have a point of reference, I stumble. My personality needs it. Apparently, that's my security blanket. That reference point is what makes me feel successful in certain areas of my life and the absence of it leaves me feeling anxious. Also, pinpointing the causes stopped the leaking over into other areas of my life. My overall life already feels more in control. I feel more reassurance after figuring these two things out and I haven't even implemented my plans of attack!

Alrighty now, what is it that's stressing you out or making you anxious? Think about it, be honest with yourself and put it out there. Because on the other side of those issues is happiness, freedom, and calmness. We can figure this thing called life out, I promise you!!! Let's do it!