No Sign

My eldest turned 13 today! I'm officially the happily married mother of a teenager.

Oh my.

As the day approached, he had one simple request: "Please, mom. No front door sign."

Ah, teenagers. I LOVE em. Especially mine.

So, I decided to honor the request and recognize it for what it is: an opportunity! When one ritual ends, another can take its place.

To respect the increasing embarrassment ("my mom is sooooo annoying!") of my teenager, I began a new birthday-week-ritual this morning: a breakfast table display of his baby books coupled with all sorts of silly (embarrassing? absolutely!) little stories of when he was just a wee-one.

I think he kind of liked it; those eye-rolls are a teenager's way of saying "Thanks, mom. I love you too."

Right?

Explode. Erupt. Enjoy.

It's spring on campus! And in my yard.

Tulips explode. Rhodedendrums erupt. Lilacs emit the aromas of ... well ... lilacs, of course. Buds burst all around and make my eyes water with joy. And allergens.

It's also a delightful time of year because classes have ended. Next week we give final exams (insert big sigh of relief). Because although I (Carol) absolutely love what I do, I also love the seasons of academia:

Start afresh.
Learn.
Lecture.
Discuss.
Read a lot.
Learn more.
Discuss further.
Take a test or two.
Challenge yourself.
Persevere.
Finish.
Summer.

And then next year, do it all again.

As I wrap another year and head into summer, I've been thinking about the fall already (starting anew) while being unusually appreciative of the baby-tenderness and freshness of this spring.

One of those fresh moments came from a lesson poignantly learned by a couple (literally) of experts guest speaking in one of my courses. You can read all about it in a blog to which I contribute at the University of St. Thomas. The entry was inspired by spring in my (rock) garden. Take a peek: http://blog.stthomas.edu/thescroll/archives/carol_bruess/

Stanford University = Happy Authors

As my (Carol's) husband is walking out of his office this evening, hurriedly heading home for a feast of grilled walnut burgers on a bed baby greens, he is brought to a momentary halt by a College of St. Catherine student who yells "Dr. Bruess! I have a great story for you!"

Kelsey, a junior at St. Kate's, is a bright and friendly student who I also just happen to know because she works part time at the Grand Avenue J Crew retailer where I just happen to frequent. She excitedly details her trip the week before to visit friends in California where she, of course, wanted to check out Stanford University. And where she reportedly shrieked as she saw on an eye-level and prominent display, right as you walk in the door of the Stanford bookstore, a faced-out stack of What Happy Couples Do.

"I know that woman who wrote that book! I sell her clothes!"

How cool is that? We've arrived at Stanford University's bookstore!

It's true: being on the new release table at B&N was dreamy. Being in Target and Oprah's green room remains our creme de la creme dream. But we silly academic find the bookstore of a fine institution like Stanford a very comfortable and exciting place to find our little work of love.

Happy couples at Stanford and beyond: enjoy.

And Kelsey: thanks for the shriek out!

Birthday Week Ritual Lives On

Last week was Birthday week again at the Bruess house. Gracie turned nine. The ritual of celebrating in grand style - for seven "wonderful" days - took us from a red velvet cupcake mountain on day one to our special bistro dinner with BFFs at the Mall of America's American Girl Store ("Mom, this is the greatest day ever"). Instead of telling you all about it, I thought I'd show and tell select events of our week:


Day one:Red velvet cupcake tower kick off birthday-week. Yum.

Day two - six: I'll spare you the photos of the front door sign, the bouncy balls, the gifts hidden around the house, the second batch of cupcakes, the 4-layer homemade german chocolate cake, the candles, the songs, the cards, the cash (grandmas and aunts know all about birthday week too), the breakfasts in bed ... and ... sob, sob ... the tears when the birthday girl finds out that her brother made it to swim finals but she did not. Oops. Not-so-happy-birthday moment. Oh well. You can't have it all, even during birthday week.

Fast forward to day seven: We head to "The Bistro" per the request of the birthday-week queen.



The dolls pull up to the table and order lemonade. On ice, please.


BFFs oooh and aaah over the mini-fred puppy given as a gift. Gracie names him Tiger. Fred attacks Tiger the minute we get home. Woof. Woof.


Gracie acts like she doesn't want us to sing to her in a restaurant. She is loving every second of it.


BFF's request a trip to Mexico to close out birthday week. We take them to Sears and have them try on beach wear instead. Smart.

Birthday week ends with very crabby daughter (too much fun, too little sleep?!) and a very happy mom (it's officially over now, right?)

I strongly encourage you consider initiating birthday week at your house! ... If you are strong. Tolerant. Dotting. Patient. Can bake. And decorate. And wrap boxes in 10 seconds or less. Can make big signs (for the doors and entrances). And, most importantly, can take a week off (after birthday week, to catch up on sleep and scratch the tape off the ceilings and doors). What fun it is to be nine and enjoying the beauty of ritual!

95%

I (Anna) figured I'd update our loyal readers on my statistics test results. I earned a 95%. It's safe to say I'm 100% satisfied! And so is my tutor. I never knew it was possible. Hard work does pay off. I was so overjoyed, I had to do the unthinkable (and what we tell our undergraduates not to do) and text Brent the good news during class. Isn't technology amazing? Now that I'm back to Kentucky, my husband continues to tutor me using photos like the one above (a picture of the problem I was working on, taken with my poor quality iphone camera). He looks at the problem and figures it out at the same time. Then we compare our answers. I'll be glad when this long-distance nightmare is over, but I enjoy the rituals we've developed at a distance, too. Near or far, rituals continue to be the heartbeat of our marriage.

Turning Points

Most people who know me (it's Anna here) are also aware of my math deficiency. I didn't get the math "gene," that's for sure. So imagine my dismay when I realized that attending my dream school, the University of Kentucky, also meant taking my dreaded courses: Quantitative research methods and statistics. Well, this semester has been quite difficult, because I happen to be taking both of them at the same time. I begged, I pleaded, but there was no way getting around these darn courses.

Last week, I was in Minnesota for spring break. I know what you're thinking: "Students and professors are so lucky!" I won't argue with you, we are very fortunate, indeed. This spring break, for me, however, was quite different than any other. Yes, I saw a couple of friends and spent time with our families. But I was also immersed in studying, because my professor decided to schedule our first exam for the week after spring break (who does that?!). I certainly did not spend time at the beach like our undergraduates often do. Instead, I was slumped over the kitchen table with my statistics book and notes. Weeping.

My brilliant and patient husband, who is not deficient in math, worked on problem after problem with me from late at night to early morning all week. It's been awhile since he took the course, so he'd read the book and look at my notes, and then instruct me. At first, I'd make silly mistakes. He'd calmly reply, "are you sure you want to do that?" We'd cheer when I found the right answer, and corrected my mistakes together. Finally, there were more "hoorays!" than "oops," which left both student and tutor feeling very fulfilled. Happy couple vs. statistics. We were winning.

I can safely say I've never loved him more than I do now, post-statistics study sessions. Which is when I realized, we were experiencing what Baxter and Bullis (1986) define as a "turning point," which is, "any event or occurrence that is associated with change in a relationship." Through studying stats together, we were accomplishing two things: 1) Learning statistics, and 2) Learning about each other and growing closer as a result.

We all have had them. Our relationships thrive off of them. What are your relational turning points? Plot them out. Make a timeline. It's quite fun, really. What you see might surprise you. And if you're looking to create a turning point, a statistics course might be just what you need!

Healthy relationships ... Healthy lives.

Check out the great press we are enjoying in a just-released article in Women's Health (April, 2009, on newstands now).

Link to on-line version here: http://www.womenshealthmag.com/sex-and-relationships/relationship-advice-1

Seeks Ironing and Folding

[Warning: If you read my, Carol's, latest University of St. Thomas blog, don't bother reading this one. It's almost identical. Double-dipping is the honest explanation although I do think the topic is worth double-audience-ing. Hope you agree!]

If someone asked you to develop a six-word statement of who you "are" – a half-dozen words capturing your entire life story - what would those six words be? Six words: No more, no less.

Inspired by bestselling book “Not Quite What I Was Planning,” (which, by the way, was inspired by Ernest Hemingway’s famous tale “For Sale: Baby shoes, never worn”), my co-professors and I recently asked students in one of course on communication and citizenship to write their six-word memoirs.

The results? Fascinating. Funny! Shocking. Sometimes heart-wrenching. Many of them made me worry about how poorly 19-22 year olds see themselves; most of them left me inspired by the creativity and complexity of human beings (at every age).

Since reading their essays I’ve been walking around thinking in six-word statements. It’s driving me nuts! “Move over lady, coming on through.” (said to myself as I piloted the family station wagon to and from swim team and gymnastic practices the other night). “Stop yelling at your sister, now!” (uttered in an embarrassingly loud voice, especially for someone who studies family happiness). Oops. But what really captures the core of my “story?” I pray I’m more than “hurry up, move on, go fast” and “be kind, calm and loving. NOW!” So I kept searching.

As I was folding my third load of laundry last night, peering out of the corner of my eye at a pile of to-be-graded papers from another class, I landed on my final six-word memoir: “Neat freak. Seeks ironing and folding.” That captures me perfectly! I adore order. Seek the end to chaos. Find true joy in making things, like piles of clothes and papers-needing-grading, organized again. Maybe because those tasks are so simple compared to making messy/conflicted/painful relationships neat and tidy. I try at those too, but often come up short.

This shot of my living room makes me VERY happy because EVERYTHING is in its perfect place. Even the lighting. Ah .... pure bliss.

Okay, but there is still more to me. How about: “Everything is better when it’s complete.” Close! I do love to “accomplish” things.

“Secret to life? Truth, chocolate, wine.” Now we’re getting somewhere.

Ugh. I can’t decide. Maybe what I’m looking for is advice? “Breathe. Be. Stop thinking so hard.” Good points, self.

I decided to ask students in another class what six-words they would choose to reveal their “selves.” They looked pensive and appeared to be thinking hard. No one answered. I told them to come back next class with their ideas. “It’s hard, isn’t it?” They nodded.

Later that day, as I was chatting with a neighbor, I suddenly asked her what her six-word statement of identity would be. She looked at me as if my dog had just pooped on her lawn. Huh?

It’s a hard but intriguing task, capturing your core identity and life story in only six-tiny-but-tasty-bites-of-words. But 86 mostly first-year college students did so. And quite brilliantly. Below is a sampling of what they came up with, a brief introduction to who they “are” as people, community members, students, brothers, young adults, multicultural beings, sugar-addicts, sleep-deprived adolescents, travelers, tom boys, identical twins, film-buffs, and faithful souls … :

Wait, don’t you know I’m kidding?

Spoiled? Of course I am.

Anxious procrastinating perfectionist needing more time.

Caught in a world of film.

Daddy’s little swimmer still passionately dreaming

Spontaneous Twin loves Starbucks and Change

Just trying to survive two cultures

Meticulously wrapped artist unbounded by love.

From largest city to … be announced.

Living in faith, yet with style.

Enjoying freedom as I gain responsibility

Much weirder than meets the eye.

The curtain lifted. Here I am.

I am stuck in the transition

My daily bowl of lucky charms.

Traveled the world and found myself

I’m whoever they say I am

Too complex for only six words

Are we too complex for only six words? Maybe so. As a family/marriage/communication researcher, teacher, author, community member, mother, daughter, friend and … well … there’s more … but I only get six words … I think my statement would be (reserving the right to edit those half-dozen words as my “self” evolves): “Building strong families, yours and mine.”

What would your six-word statement be? Or maybe it would be interesting to try this as a couple? What would joint-six-word statement be? I think I'll try that. Check back soon; I'll post what we come up with!

Guess what?

You can now read What Happy Parents Do on your iPhone! And soon, What Happy Couples Do too. Check it out:
http://www.publishersweekly.com/article/CA6641546.html?nid=2286&source=title&rid=1297856922

Ups and Downs

It's still the "little days" of February and we're all still smiling here in Minnesota (despite the 8 inches of snow scheduled to arrive on our sidewalks today). Ah, smiling. It's good for all even on the darkest days, no?

A smile emerged on my (Carol's) weary/tired/week-5-of-the-semester-and-have-33-papers-to-grade-face the other day when I opened my email and found a note from a student who graduated a couple years back. She reported an outcome of What Happy Couples Do that neither super-intuitive Anna nor extra-smart-Steve-the-editor nor I (I'll claim no special intellect here) would have predicted. Often, unpredictable moments like this bring a smile to my face. Because they catch me off guard in the most delightful of ways.

Here is an excerpt from the student's note:

Hello Dr. Bruess! I'm up in _______ now in law school and freezing my tail off.

Lately, I've been down and out because of a combination of things; law school is hard, [this city] is depressingly cold, I've been single for about 1.5 years (continually jovial on top, but increasingly dreary and lonely inside, which is emphasized by seemingly everyone in my law school class is on the hot track to happily-married-ever-after-dom). I've been feeling this way for a little over a month, since Christmas break when I got to see my family and old friends. After a month of feeling this way it begins to take its toll creating anxiety and more sadness. But something tonight brought be back to your book, "What Happy Couples Do" and those feelings went away. After reading a number of those stories I felt such relief thinking I'd have that some day too, but I'll just have to wait for it.

Sorry you'll probably wake up to a seemingly sad e-mail, but it has a happy ending. Thank you for such a book that has enlightenment for singles too! My new "de-saddening" plan is to read an excerpt from the book or your blog whenever I'm feeling a little too lonely up here....

I hope you're well

I'm more well every time I read one of these generous and heartfelt notes from a reader. About life. And its ups and downs. Because without the downs, would we really appreciate the up? When it comes to marriage and relationships and life, thank goodness for the downs (there are many) because they help spotlight the ups (and point them out to our busy little brains when they finally appear).

You hang in there, girl. I'll bet - in no time - your plan will work.

Relational Currencies (a fancy word for "loving gestures")

One of my (it's Carol here again) favorite concepts to teach in my Family Communication course is how, in our families and intimate relationships, we need to understand each other’s “relational currencies.” Relational currencies are those symbolic acts or statements used to express our love, care or concern for another person. For example, to some, receiving chocolate goodies on Valentine’s Day is a symbol of how the giver feels about them. Chocolate = love. For others, a heart-shaped card filled with affectionate phrases = love. To yet others, a call from a distant friend = “I care about you.” For me, waking up on Valentine’s Day to the smell of bleach and the sound sponges moving over tile (as my husband cleans the toilets, tubs and sinks) would be much more appreciated than cocoa, cards or calls. Cleaning the toilets = deep and passionate love for me, dear Valentine.


Here are a few recent observations of everyday folk who locked in (I'm pretty sure that's slang; just heard it after class) on the concept of "relational currencies":

It was at a recent book signing on campus, as Anna and I enjoyed conversation with students, colleagues, staff and administrators stopping by to chat about or acquire a book or two, when we saw a young male student hovering around the area. He looked as if he might have been studying late the night before and with eyes averting ours he finally approached and said out loud, although in a whisper: “Um, I’d like to get one of these.” He was pointing at What Happy Couples Do. We tried to ease his obvious discomfort with our unwitting enthusiasm: “Great! Can we inscribe it to you and someone special? Is it a gift?!” He fumbled to explain in a low and still hushed voice: “Yeah. It’s for my girlfriend.” His eyes shifted all around as if he was about to be caught doing something bad. “My friends told me that my girlfriend got me the coolest gift in the whole world and that I’d never be able to top it. Then I thought ‘a book about happy couples. That would do it.’” Dude, you are SO smart (that’s what we thought and then quickly said as much). Bravo! This young man had obviously learned about relational currencies. A book about relationships given from dating man to woman he is dating = “I LOVE YOU!” a million decibels strong.

Then just last week as I worked a little later than usual and the sun went down outside my office window, I heard a very light tap on my office door. I have to admit it startled me a bit; it was almost as if someone was wanting to knock, but not really. Although it only took seconds to open the door, by the time I did no one was there. But I saw a young man – a staff person in a neighboring department – about half way down the hallway. I gently called out “Hello! Were you looking for me?” He excitedly turned and came back to explain why he had come. With a similar shy/embarrassed/excited/eager/nervous voice of the young man at the book signing, he too talked in slightly hushed but rushed and excited tones. As he spoke he reached inside the little brown paper sack he held in his hands. “It’s such a pleasure to meet you. I was wondering … you see … I bought … for my girlfriend … well … I know she’d really like it if you’d be willing to sign this book I bought for her.” He pulls out the lunch-like sack a copy of What Happy Couples Do and admits with a chuckle that yes, he is “too cool” to carry around a copy of a happy couple book. “My colleagues might make fun of me.” Cute. I was touched by the gesture he was attempting to make for his girlfriend; he knew she “would LOVE the book” and that him purchasing and having it signed was an expression greater than any other he could think of. Wonder when he learned that action is often the most convincing means of expression?

And on the eve of our national holiday solely dedicated to the expression of love, it seems wildly appropriate to share one of my favorite stories from What Happy Couples Do. It was submitted by the couple’s daughter who had observed, for years, her parents’ long-standing Valentine’s Day ritual: a cost-free yet valuable method for each to express their love and adoration for one another. Might be one we all want to try out during these tough economic times. It’s called “A Priceless Valentine”:

My parents don’t have much money, and what they have they don’t like to spend on things they think are frivolous. So on Valentine’s Day they always go to a greeting card store together and pick each other out a card. They then read their cards out loud to each other. They also tell each other what they would have written in the card had they bought it. They get the sentiment without the expense and have developed a loving tradition that has been with them for many, many years.

The people we love are priceless, aren’t they? Make sure you’re DOing something to show them as much. And not just tomorrow, but every day.

The Little Days

That's what I (Carol) like to call both January AND February. Little days. And little days, to me, are the happy days. What about you?

Because happy days are days with no holidays to be fretting over (minus February 14th ... but no need to fret. Just love).

And no big turn of the calendar.



Nothing that big. Just time inside. With ourselves. A cup of hot liquid. And a newspaper. And with friends for no occasion. To regroup. Rethink. And, we hope, re-rack (that's what it's called when you go to bed after officially getting up for the day).

What if we all were able to capture the beauty in the little moments of those little days?

Like one of my BF's and, lucky me, neighbors - Betsy - does on an impressively regular basis in her blog about the funny/daily/real-time quotes of her kindergarten daughter, Claire. Check it out. It will make you smile. Because the little moments are really very big when we appreciate them, no?

http://clairequotes.blogspot.com/

[A final note to Claire: I'm totally not going to tell my kids about your idea of keeping all of your old band aids on a sheet of paper, even though I think the effort is commendable.]