Tag: growing up

New Blog – Happily Ever After is the Beginning

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Twenty, our daughter Trinity is twenty today. There’s something about this birthday that seems momentous to both her and me. She’s no longer a teenager. Yes, she’s been a legal adult for two years, but somehow neither she, nor I, thought childhood had been completely left behind, but twenty is the end of the teens and the beginning of a decade that is absolutely, positively an adult number. But that’s not all of it, Trinity also attended her cousin, Kay’s, wedding earlier this month. Kay is already a mother of a baby girl of her own, and only a few weeks older than Trinity. I remember when I and both of my sisters-in-law were pregnant at the same time. All the girls were born within weeks of each other. Now one is a mother and married, another has decided on her career and is off pursuing that, and Trinity is in college; Trinity also caught the bouquet at Kay’s wedding.

People told Trinity that she would be next, and she loved that so romantic idea. She’s always been of a more romantic turn of mind than me. I double checked that she wasn’t dating anyone seriously, so a wedding was unlikely anytime soon. I remained calm, though what I wanted to say, was over my dead body would she be getting married anytime soon. Then, my daughter, who I thought of as fairly logical, proactive, and level-headed in most situations, just beginning to explore all the possibilities of her life, talked about her wedding day. She’s talked about her wedding day after every wedding she’s seen since she was about six. I guess it’s normal for most little girls, but when she was six I didn’t worry about it. Now she’s twenty and suddenly it’s not cute anymore, its a little frightening to me. I’m the mom, I’m supposed to worry.

I had grown up never planning to marry, so I had never dreamed of my wedding day. I was too busy writing my stories and collecting my first rejection slips, because I was going to be a writer. I didn’t have time to plan weddings, or moon over boys. Trinity had never done much mooning either, so I never worried about her falling into the trap that marriage and romance are the biggest things in a woman’s life. I’d shown her that men and weddings were not the be all, end all, for her life. She understands that, but suddenly the whole wedding thing seemed a little too real for me, and for the first time I thought of how differently she had seen marriage than I did growing up.

I had fallen in love for the first time in college and married at twenty-one to her father. It had certainly surprised the hell out of me. I’d planned on being a happy writer without any of those complications from “relationships.” They just distracted an artist from their goals. I actually didn’t let marriage distract me from my goals and was a successful novelist by the time we divorced sixteen years later. I vowed never to marry again, and then promptly fell in love with Jonathon. We are now blissfully happy at thirteen years and counting. Was it the fact that I had married twice and was actually happy that had made Trinity feel more positive towards marriage and romance? Trinity had been one of the flower girls at our wedding, so this more romantic attitude might be my fault. Was it letting the flower girls ride in the horse-drawn carriage with us? Don’t blame fairytales, because I was raised on those, too, and the romantic bug didn’t get me. But then, I had only my mother’s unhappiness in the brief marriage to my father, and was raised on tales of my grandfather beating my grandmother, who she had divorced after twenty years. Marriage didn’t seem that great to me, and men seemed like extras I didn’t need in my life. My grandmother and I got along fine without one. I did the heavy lifting around the house, what the heck were men needed for? Then I fell in love, and married, twice, and Trinity grew up seeing that the right man with the right woman could be pretty awesome, so in a way it was totally my fault. My happiness had actually fed into the social message that romance and marriage are important; damn it.

I took a few days to think about why I’d had such an issue with her innocent, and perfectly normal, remarks about weddings. I finally realized what I wanted to say not just to Trinity, but to all the young women everywhere.

I hope my daughter’s wedding day isn’t the biggest and most important day of her life. I hope that she has so many days that make that one day, pale in comparison. I hope she finds someone so wonderful that their days together will be full of such happiness that the wedding is what it’s supposed to be, the beginning of an amazing adventure and a real life love story that will rise in action from that day forward. I hope for her a person at her side that brings joy to her life, everyday. I know they will fight, I know she’s not perfect, nor will her spouse be perfect. The trick is to get enough good stuff from the relationship to offset the irritating stuff, because that’s all it should be, just irritating stuff. If it’s truly bad stuff; addiction, abuse, I trust my beautiful, strong daughter to understand that you can’t love them enough to change certain things and not to ever marry someone who is cruel when they say they love you. True love is not cruel, or controlling in a way that hurts you.

When you fight, and you will fight, remember that list of things you know would hurt them the most, don’t say them. Don’t say the unforgivable list, because once uttered it can’t be taken back, and though you say, I forgive you, you never forget and it damages your pair bond.

I hope my daughter understands that it is the every day joys that make life worth living, not the big moments. The big stuff fades and cannot last, but the joy of waking up beside someone you love and renewing that love every day in a dozen small gestures that say, better than any fancy dress, or church full of flowers, I love you.

I hope she understands what that means, love, to her may not be the same as her spouse, and that part of the challenge is to find out what their language of love is both individually and together. To some men, playing their favorite video game with them means you love them enough to try. To others dressing in their favorite outfit is love. To some women helping with housework means love, and to others sexy naked time is love. For Trinity, I hope she finds another video game and anime Geek and that she never falls in love with someone that rolls their eyes and belittles what she finds such fierce joy in, and the same for her future spouse. Let them honor what each finds joy in, and understand that it doesn’t always have to make sense to you, you just have to understand that the love of your life adores fall mornings, or bird watching, or sleeping in late, hitting the gym, scuba diving, or watching cheesy horror movies. Whatever fills their face with light and joy, honor that, and honor the things that fill your own heart with the same light. Do not give up your hobbies, the pieces of yourself that bring you happiness, because your spouse fell in love with the girl, or boy, that thought Pokemon was cool; don’t lose that. Don’t let the idea of love and being a grownup steal yourself away. Love, true love, honors who you really are and never makes fun of it. Honor each other, care for each other, be kind to each other, have fun together, and above all know that there will be moments when you fall out of love, or are so irritated by that small thing they always do that you just want to scream. Remember in those moments how much you love that thing they do that always makes you smile. Remember how they held you when you were sad, or how they cry at Christmas commercials, or how hard they work at their dreams, and how they help you work at yours.

I hope that my daughter’s wedding, when it comes, if it comes, because if she never marries that’s okay with me, as long as she’s happy, but if she chooses to marry, I hope she looks back and thinks it was a beautiful beginning to an even more beautiful life in partnership with someone she loves, and who loves her as much as I do. It’s not about a certain ceremony, or a certain goal, or milestone, those will come and go, it’s about the day in, day out, are you there for me – do you have each other’s backs? That’s what it’s about, I hope my daughter and all the young women out there understand that is more important than a thousand designer dresses, or the perfect flowers, or how many bridesmaids you have – your wedding day will pass, but if you all work at it, and are lucky, then it just gets better from there.

New Blog – When I grow up I want . . .

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From the time I was twelve-years-old I never planned to marry. I would live on an island with lots of animals and write my stories, because writers could live anywhere; right? At twenty-one I left my grandmother’s house to marry my first husband. I never owned my own apartment, never lived alone, and then suddenly I was part of a couple. It had been just my grandmother and me, and now it was just my husband and me. It seemed not that different, and yet entirely different. I think if I’d come from a bigger family that I might have had more trouble transitioning to this two person system, this couple, but two seemed familiar, seemed right. By the time we celebrated our first anniversary we had one Yellow-naped Amazon parrot, a hand fed luntino Cockatiel, and a canary that would come out of its cage and play on the parrot playground. I was writing and trying to sell my stories when I wasn’t working in corporate America. We’d moved to California, so I was at least by the ocean, I was part way to my island.

Fifteen years later we were living in St. Louis, Missouri, the middle of the country, and I’d almost forgotten that island dream. I was a best-selling novelist and I was separating from my soon-to-be ex-husband. I got my first apartment that was just mine. I was able to pick out a kitchen table and chairs without consulting anyone’s opinion but my own. It was GREAT! I reveled in the freedom of just me. Well, not just me, because one room of the apartment was for our daughter, Trinity. I let her pick the color and the decor. She was five-years-old and wanted a totally pink room. At her age, so had I, and she wanted a pink canopy bed, and so had I, so who was I to argue with her? Besides, I’d already told her she could pick everything, this would be a promise that I would never make to a child this young again. The pink paint was called Candy Pink, or something equally innocuous, but we, the painters, the people who delivered the furniture, all of us, dubbed the color Eye-Bleed Pink, because it was so bright it made us nauseous to be in the room too long. One of the men who delivered her pink and white canopy bed declared the color made him dizzy. But Trinity loved her room! The rest of the apartment was mine to decorate as I saw fit, and I loved being on my own. I was never going to marry again, it hadn’t worked for me, monogamy with the wrong person is a trap I never wanted to fall into again. My ex-husband got to keep our remaining parrot and I got the two dogs; we shared Trinity.

Six months later I would be engaged to a friend I’d known for eight years, Jonathon, and we’d be planning our wedding. My first husband swept me off my feet in a gentle, geeky kind of way. Jonathon and I snuck up on each other, just friends until the moment we realized we weren’t. I’d done the big wedding once, but he hadn’t, and what my sweetie wanted, I wanted to give him, so we did it up big. Trinity and her best friend were our flower girls and they got to ride in the horse drawn carriage at the end after we were pronounced husband and wife, because if you have a little girl and you have a horse drawn carriage they get to ride in it too, that’s just a rule somewhere, or should be.

Jonathon and I celebrate our thirteenth anniversary next Monday. We are happier now, more in love now, than when we started. Having been through a marriage where ten years in, that was not the case, I value this love and our life, all the more. Trinity is happy, healthy, and off to college. We have three dogs and about twenty koi in the pond. We still live in the middle of the country, so no closer to that island I wanted at age twelve, but I am now a #1 New York Times Bestselling novelist (my agent always insists I write it that way *waves at agent*) so part of my childhood dream is on track.

Four years ago, Jonathon and I were in love with another man. He was our third, and I’d hoped he might be a live-in third someday, but the situation was too complicated. No one’s fault, just not enough honest communication and grownup straight forwardness, I think. But our ex-third introduced us to a woman and her partner. The woman was Genevieve, and her partner doesn’t matter much to this story, because two years later he would be an ex for both of us. But Genevieve would be my first girlfriend ever, and she dated both Jonathon and me. Even more than our ex-third she loved us both, equally, and I hadn’t realized how much I, we, needed that until we had it. She was states away, and we settled into a long distance relationship, LDR, most of our polyamorous relationships have been LDR. She met another man. We knew all about Spike from the beginning, because poly has only one hard rule: that everyone is honest. Spike would talk to us for hours as he planned her engagement ring. Who knew her better than we did, after all we’d been dating her a year longer than he had. We were part of the party where he planned to surprise her with the proposal. I got to help distract Genevieve so that when I turned her around he was just down on one knee with the ring held up to her. It was wonderful and we’d worked as unit to pull it off.

Next week, just after Jon and I celebrate thirteen years of wedded bliss, Genevieve and Spike are moving in with us. They are bringing their two dogs, and yes we have introduced our packs with the help of a local “Dog Whisperer”. Genevieve will also be bringing her fifty-five gallon aquarium of fish. She and I have already talked about a possible lizard, and more fish. Both Spike and I are terribly allergic to cats, and that is a blow to her, but she loves us both, even enough to risk never owning a cat again. I am getting shots, and hope to find a way, someday, for her to have her beloved felines again. She has also asked about parrots, but I am allergic to feathers, which was one reason I had to give up the parrot to my ex-husband. I miss having birds, very much, and hope to find one type I am not allergic to. I’m the writer I dreamed about being, and we will soon have as many dogs as I envisioned as a child, and I hope, nearly pray, that we may add more animals as time goes on, now all we need is that island. Some place tropical, Genevieve?