Wednesday, August 14, 2013

Guest Post: A Letter from Your Wife

I have a friend that is hilarious.  I mean, she should write a book and it would make us pee in our pants.  People have been telling her to get a blog for a long time, but she's a Pastor's Wife, she has four kids, and she runs a children's choir in our community.  In other words, she barely has time to pee.

But she's a champion Facebook poster, and the other day she posted a note on Facebook that was so perfectly perfect that I immediately texted her and asked if I could share it on my blog.

So here it is.  The best post ever by my friend, Deanna Ramsay:

I often hear young moms complaining about their needs not being met. About things they wish they had, wish they received, wished their husbands did… and I realized… not all husbands “get it.” Some take longer to learn their wives than others. And some wives don’t help the situation at all. We play games. We expect much but express little. Today, I felt compelled to write a letter. On behalf of stay at home moms. If you've never said it or he's never "gotten it." I hope this helps.

To: My Husband.

From: Your Stay at Home Wife/Mom.

I used to think it would be so romantic if you just knew me so well, that you knew exactly what I needed. I would never have to verbally share with you my needs because if you really loved me, you would know what they were, even before I did. You, my love, were to be nothing less than a mind reader. It sounded fabulous and romantic. However, we’ve been married a while now. And reality has set in. You are an amazing man. An incredible husband. But I must tell you: You are horrible at mind reading. And it’s not your fault. I now get it. It’s physically impossible. There’s nothing you can do to acquire this superpower that I wish you possessed. So today, I am declaring that I am letting you off the hook. No more guessing. No more expectations unmet. Today, I lay it out. I’m giving you a peek into me. But once you know, you are responsible for that knowledge. No more playing dumb. No more acting clueless. You can choose to stop reading here if you enjoy the guessing game. Ah, you’re still reading? Awesome. I love that about you. You’re IN. I knew it.

Ok wait. Before I express my needs, let me explain something that might be difficult to understand:

I love our kids. I love my role as a mom. But honestly? It’s tough. And here’s the tricky part – those 2 things DO co-exist. One doesn’t trump the other or cancel it out. I love it - and I’m tired. It’s an honor – but it’s exhaustingly hard work. I’m fulfilled - and I’m drained. Get it? Me either. It’s tricky and complex. But it’s called Motherhood and I’m in the thick of it. OK, so in light of that, here’s what I need. Or want. TomAto….TomAHto. Here’s the reality in no particular order….

1) I need to refuel. And it’s not by grocery shopping with only 1 kid instead of all 3. I need to get out of the house. Alone. I need to ride in my car and listen to adult music. I want to use the public restroom in the small stall. The one without the changing station. Alone. I don’t need extravagance. [I mean, I won’t turn down extravagance, of course. But I don’t need it.] ;) You know what I’d love? To wander the aisles of Target for an hour. Or to sit at Starbucks alone for 30 minutes. Or to walk in a shopping mall without pushing a stroller. It really is that easy. Will I come back completely changed and ready to conquer the world? Honestly? Sometimes yes. But mostly, no. But what I WILL come back with, is a little more life in me. I will have a spring in my step. It’s a little shot in the arm. I reeeeallly need this. When you ask if I want it, and I say, “I’m OK.” I need you to tell me to go anyway.

2) Please don’t call and ask what’s for dinner. If anything, call and ask, “Do we have dinner plans? If not, can I stop by the store and pick anything up?” I love you. And I love providing nourishment for our family. But when I have spit up running down into my bra and a toddler who just learned to take off his own dirty diaper, The Call adds that little extra pressure in my day that just makes me want to accidentally change the locks on the front door.

3) When I take the kids to the pool, please know that I didn’t spend the day poolside with a cocktail. Sometimes I feel like that’s how you view the life of a stay at home mom. In reality, every 2 minutes, I’m doing roll call to make sure everyone is above water. “1..2..3..…1…2…3…” over and over and over and over. I’m changing poopy swim diapers on hot concrete and peeling wet swimsuits off tiny bodies because they have to go potty AGAIN. I’m schlepping towels and sunblock and swimming goggles and dive toys and flippers and water shoes and cover ups and diapers and wipes and snacks and drinks. I have one child who has no fear of water and is jumping into areas he’s not allowed to, and another child who’s deathly afraid of the water and is leaving claw marks in my arm. Blood has been drawn. A walk in the park is not a walk in the park. It’s chasing, and counting, and disciplining and refereeing. A day at the pool is all of that, in a big hole of water. Attempting to avoid death. For real.

4) I’ve been nursing a baby all day long. My “nursers” are over stimulated. The last thing I desire when you get home from work, is to have one more person perusing the “food court.” Those are not yours right now. They are on loan to the person they were actually created for. Your time will come. It’s just not today. If you will understand this and not let it become a point of tension, I’m certain you’ll get extra rewards in heaven.

5) However, when we’re home and you walk by me in the kitchen and grab my butt, and I swat you away, I don’t mean it. I secretly love that you still want to be playful and frisky. The timing may not be right, or I just don’t know what to do with your playfulness because my brain is counting the number of loads of laundry waiting for me. But please don’t stop. I need to know you still like me. I understand this is confusing in light of the point above. I can’t explain everything. I’m just informing. I’m complex likethat.

6) I need a Girls Night Out every once in awhile. While we both know you rock, I need some time with girlfriends as well. Unless, of course, you would like to discuss bikini waxing, my period and the latest fashion trends with me. No? Cool. Girl’s Night Out it is.

7) I need non-sexual touch. I know you don’t quite understand what that is. Just pretend it’s valuable and possible. The grabbing mentioned above is fun and all, but sometimes I just want to feel your arm on my shoulder, without it slowly moving a few inches south. I need your physical affection without motive. I need to know that you like to just be with me.

8) When you walk in the door, let’s make a deal: You won’t walk straight to the family room and collapse on the couch with the remote… And I won’t greet you at the door with all 5 kids, dump them on you and clock out. When you come home from work, let’s do it together. Share the load. If you need to decompress from your day at work, please take the long way home. Drive around the block a few extra times if you need to. Just don’t walk in and disconnect. You are my Knight. I love knowing you’re coming home. I can’t feel like I have another child to care for when you walk in the door from work. I need my partner. My teammate.

9) That trip we took with the kids was awesome. We created family memories. We had fun. But that’s exactly what it was – a “trip.” I now need a “vacation.” A vacation is like a trip. Just without the diapers and wipes and baby food and high chairs and primary color toys. Oh, and without the tiny humans that come with those things. Don’t get me wrong, I love those tiny humans. But a break to refuel, refresh, clear my mind, etc..is invaluable. I have no way to explain what a true vacation will do to me. Other than to say hotel room sex is fabulous. The end.

10) When you come home to a clean house, be assured it didn’t look like that hours earlier. There were crackers smashed on the floor, toys everywhere, food smeared on walls, 8 outfit changes from our preschool daughter strewn around the house… If you come home to a clean house, please notice. Please say something. Acknowledge that it obviously took superhuman powers to get it to the state it is. It sounds silly and needy. Maybe I am. But you know that “atta boy” you got from your boss at work that made your day? Ya, I need that too.

11) When we go to a restaurant, sometimes I need you to offer to sit next to ‘the kid.’ You know, the one that needs extra assistance. The one that cries and grabs and throws and needs. When I say, “No, it’s OK. I’ll sit next to The Child” I need you to gift me with the break anyway. I’m not saying every time. But we both know that going to restaurants with The Child is difficult. I’d so appreciate sharing that load with you.

12) I need to go on a date. With you. I need to wear clothes that don’t smell like any type of child’s body fluid. I need to order food for just me. I need to eat it while it’s hot. I need to look into your eyes. I need to hold your hand. I need adult conversation. And while the topic of kids might creep into our conversation, let’s commit to keeping that to a minimum. We spent so much of our dating years getting to know each other. Asking questions. I was your student and you were mine. A lot has happened since then. You and I have changed and grown. Let’s learn about each other again. Re-discover who we are today. Let’s know and be known. Let’s date.

13) Let’s commit to not comparing. My friend might be prettier. Or a better homemaker. Or parent with ease. Her husband might be more romantic. Or more successful. Or a more engaged father. There’s always going to be someone who does what we do, but better. Or so it seems. Let’s commit to not comparing. Comparison will steal our joy. It will take the wind out of our sail. It will make us feel defeated. Or frustrated. Or angry. Or all of the above. Let’s be honest - everyone else is just as messed up as we are. We just see the beautiful, shiny outsides of them that they put on display, and tend to compare it to the dysfunctional, broken insides of ourselves that only we know. Let’s just be the best “us”we can be – keeping our eyes ONLY on OUR path. I love you. I chose you and you chose me. Let’s be in for US and US only.

Thank you for hearing me.

You may not understand it all. I don’t even know if I do.

This season is glorious and difficult.

And in all the uncertainty, the only thing I do know is there is NO ONE I’d rather do this with, than you.

You are exactly the “who” I need.

The other stuff is just the “what” I’d love from you. I ask you to just try.

And if you’re willing, I’d love a list like this from you in return.  This is a tough season for us both. I know you have needs you rarely express as well and I’d love a peek into those if you’d be willing to share.

I love you and love that we’re living in what we’ll someday call “the good old days.”

You have my heart forever.

5 comments:

  1. Oh my word! I LOVE this! She put it out there in exactly the right words, sprinkled with hilarity!! Thank you for sharing!! The trenches of motherhood are a wonderful, incredibly tiring, place to be! Have a blessed day!!

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  2. Love this Emmy! Thanks for sharing. I will pass it along to my Mom friends, they'll love it and be encouraged too!

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  3. This is so well written, all the emotions of motherhood amazingly expressed! As a past stay-at-home Mom and now a Grandma this reminds me of how I can come to the rescue as a back-up for my loving but tired daughters.

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  4. Just found your blog through "Joy's Hope," and this post from your friend is amazing! It's so exactly where I am. I'm debating how weird it would be for me to make my husband read it. Maybe I'll print it out and highlight the parts that are relevant to me. :) Thanks for sharing it.

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  5. This is so brilliant.
    I am about to show my husband now :)

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