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"Just Bidding"

After having an engaging conversation with my (Anna here) family communication students about researcher John Gottman's idea of "bids of connection," I walked home thinking to myself, "I need to do a better job of bidding to connect with my own hubby." In his book entitled, The Relationship Cure: A Five-Step Guide to Strengthening Your Marriage, Family, and Friendships (2001), Gottman defines a bid for connection as, "A question, a gesture, a look, a touch - any single expression that says, 'I want to feel connected to you.' A response to a bid is just that - a positive or negative answer to somebody's request for emotional connection" (p. 4).

I told my hubby that I wanted to do a better job of bidding for connection. I also told him that I appreciated his call during the day to check and see how my day was going with Thomas (a clear bid that I hadn't recognized or acknowledged to the best of my ability). His work days can be quite unpredictable, so a call is not something I expect. The next day he had time to call me again to ask how our day was going. He also added, "...just bidding."

All together now: "Awwwwwwww."

Bid away, Happy Couples. It takes very little effort, but it makes a really big difference!

And because blog posts are more fun when they include a photo, below is a picture from Halloween.


No, Thomas did not dress as a cute kid for Halloween (well, as his mom, I'm allowed to think he accomplished both!). He's Marty McFly from Back to the Future! See the resemblance? He had a costume change into a pea pod later on. His dad was very particular about the costume's authenticity. They ran all over town trying to find the right articles of clothing. We had a blast in our new neighborhood!

What's He Trying to Tell Me?

Is all I (Anna) can ask myself tonight. It's rather obvious, you'll see. But funny nonetheless.

As I was tidying the bathroom after giving our son a bath, I noticed that my husband had placed his brush on top of the mirror above the sink, hoping it would stay hidden from me. My silly husband must think I'm even less observant than I really am. You see, I've been borrowing (okay, maybe pretty much exclusively using) his hairbrush. I didn't think he minded. Until one day last week I noticed his brush was standing up, leaning against the side of the medicine cabinet, as if playing hide and seek. And boy did I seek. Did I note the traveling hairbrush as a sign that perhaps my hubby prefers I use my own brush? Yes. Did that stop me from using it? Not that day. So, apparently he had to take more extreme measures by finding a better hiding place. I get it, Hunny. Me and my long hair won't bother your cute, perfect little brush ever again!

I know what you're wondering. Why didn't he just ask me not to use it? And better yet, why am I not even going to ask him why he didn't ask me? Because I already know the answer(s). Given our relational history and the spot we're at in our lives, he didn't bother to ask me not to use his brush because a) it's not that important to him, so he didn't need to make it a bigger deal than it is, and more importantly, b) he knew he'd forget to ask me because we have other (hint: he remains toothless, but is trying to walk!) things to occupy us. Messages can't be sent as clearly--say, in the form of a long conversation-- as they could be 9 whole months ago. Either way, oddly, it makes me love our marriage even more. We get each other. And we certainly can have a laugh about things like this!

Don't you just love love? The traveling hairbrush reminded me, once again, of why I love studying marital communication. Because it can be hilarious sometimes! And serious others. But it's always important.

Should I Wake Him Up?

Because these pictures make me (Anna) want to! He's been sleeping for over two hours now, but now I'm craving a snuggle. Carol captured every ounce of his sweetness in these photos, don't you think?














Sigh. I guess I'll just have to wait until he wakes me up at 2 am.


Photos by Carol Bruess

What's up, Max?

He's 3 now. Wow.

Who's Max? Go back a 106 or so blogs ...

and you'll see ...

how he's grown ...

and see solid evidence that Carol ...

still has ... three years later ...

... very average photography skills.

Ho hum, I say (Carol typing).

But it makes me happy to keep trying ... to be better.

Can you say that about yourself as a spouse? Hope so.

How Marriage Survives

Okay, so no one wants to hear any more about the big fridge that nearly tackled my own marriage. No worries, I'm done writing about the fridge (it's in, cooling, and fabulous). Done.

Instead, click below (or copy and paste in your browser - it's worth it) to read the fabulous Op Ed in the New York Times yesterday called "How Marriage Survives." Justin Wolfers provides a smartly researched and rather compelling look at contemporary marriage rates, the un-effects of the economy, and the way we couple-up in the 21st century. I (Carol) give it a big old thumbs up (just like my husband is now gesturing toward our new fridge, because it easily holds an entire case - in the box, no rearranging required - of his favorite beverage AND all of the green leafy things I make my kids and him consume too).

http://www.nytimes.com/2010/10/13/opinion/13wolfers.html?emc=eta1

I love research, don't you? It gives us clues and answers, sometimes for things we didn't even know we had questions about.

Dang.

The fridge is actually IN the house (yes ... it's true). And I'm still married despite it.

For those of you who have no idea what I'm (Carol) talking about, read previous blogs for clues.

Seriously. Getting the over-sized appliance in the door was way more painful than getting my dear hubby to agree to it in the first place. Here is the score:

1. 12 (the number of guys it took to get it in the door).
2. 3 (the number of visits the 12 guys, 4 at a time, had to visit our new home to make said delivery a success).
3. 28 (the number of dirty looks my husband gave me during those 3 visits from the 12 guys).
4. "Are you upset, sir?" (direct quote from one of the handsome young men who carefully noted my dear husband's nonverbals as he watched them give up after attempt #2 to get big fridge in the door). I promptly explained, "Yes, he's upset. But not with you."
5. 29000 (the lbs of spinach and other goodness I hope to fill the new fridge with, as soon as it's officially "hooked up" - yes, I know the 20-something meaning of term. Seriously. Stop it).

Instead, please pray (for me) that the dang fridge will actually cool items and make ice once it's plugged in tomorrow. Seriously. I'm worried.

Stay tuned.

And mean it.

We had the occasion last evening to chat with a man who has been very happily married for 58 years. He is an acquaintance who we (my husband Brian and I) have admired for many years. What an opportunity, we thought, to find out what yet another wise married person has to say about the truths of a long and blissful wedded life.

His advice?

"Be willing to say you're sorry. And mean it."

My husband quickly burst out with laughter: "I'll be waiting a long time for that!"

What? I scowled at him with disgust, assuring our guests that I am surely and very capable of apologizing.

My dear groom clarified: "She's always right; she never needs to apologize."

Ah, indeed ... the second secret of a happy marriage: make the other person appear greater than she really is.

Good advice, huh?

Older Love

While packing up our belongings to move (I, Anna, am moving too...into Carol's old house!), I ran across a book by Warren Hanson, Older Love (Waldman House Press, 1999). I've read it before, but as I paged through it this time, I had a completely different perspective (hint, the perspective change might have something to do with the newest member of our family, who, I am convinced, is part puppy). I was reminded, once again, of the power of ritual throughout the course of our lives. Hanson writes:

We hear this old love every day, in ways we'd never think. The gentle plink of dishes swishing in the kitchen sink. The sound of slippered footsteps in the hallway overheard, when I have risen early, and you have stayed in bed. The morning paper. Coffee in the same old favorite cups. The fond, familiar rituals that nothing interrupts. The joyful jingling of your keys. Your telephone hello. The quiet, happy humming of that song from long ago.

We could choose to get upset by the little (and big) things that bother us. Like when my husband is adamant about selling my huge, ugly-but-useful desk on Craigslist because "it won't fit in the new house" (oh I'll make it fit, darn it!). Thank you, Warren Hanson, for reminding me to always find joy and gratitude in my marriage. It's not that hard, really. He is moving without me while I attend a wedding across the country. Ultimately, it's the little things that we do, each day, that contribute to long-term happiness and success in relationships.

One of my favorite rituals these days is sharing a massive mason jar as a water glass at dinner. We share these days because one person carries Thomas to the table and the other person carries the food. 4 hands, 1 baby, 2 plates, 2 glasses. You do the math.

Be happy with the little things. Every day.

The Construction Bounce

We (Carol here) are in the middle of renovating a big old house. It's a combination of "What were we thinking?" and "This is incredibly fun" and "Holy cow, how many staples did they need to put down carpeting?"

It's also a bit of my dearest husband and I having a nice little set of arguments about, well, everything from "Wear the damn earplugs before using the sawsall, seriously." and "How much did you spend on that fixture? Stop spending money!"

But ... alas ... in the midst of painting, demolishing a kitchen, pulling up carpeting, stripping wallpaper, yanking up staples and then back for another layer of painting (and, of course, baking many pans of brownies for all the people helping paint/demolish/strip/yank), I recalled the stunningly sly advice of my dear friend Molly, first shared in our Tuesday Sept 4, 2007 blog. Suga, you are so wise.

Readers, go back and find this post; it's worth it (moving/constructing/yanking/painting or not).

Long live the construction bounce!

Anyone know a good piano mover?

Another upside to love letters ...

... is finding them 22 years after you've written them, re-reading them, and enjoying them all over again. (It's Carol writing this ... although I'm guessing Anna might have similar discoveries to report?)

Although my lower back is screaming and my house is a mess of boxes because we're in the middle of moving, today's packing uncovered a box in the garage rafters marked "memories" in my mother-in-law's hand writing. My hubby had secretly tucked the box of goodies (letters, poems, scrapbooks, cards ... and a boy scout patch or two) away for, well, finding them again some day! Today he sure did.

There he was ... in a lawn chair in the middle of the garage on this 97 degree day ... with a huge smile and a rather large pile of letters I had written him during our first years together. He demanded I look at all the sweet-nothings I had written him. He could hardly contain his boy-ish joy. I could hardly believe that our world has changed so much in 20 years; who writes 4-page hand-penned love letters?

And then I asked myself a few more questions:

Did I really make my own envelopes out of magazine pages? Did I really draw silly little illustrations - most of them with word bubbles - on every page? Did I really inflate a huge balloon, write a letter in permanent marker, deflate the balloon and send it to my then sweety/now husband, complete with instructions on what to do when he received it?


Am I really telling the world how silly and corny I was as a young gal in love?

Yes, it's the 20-year return on love letters: Finding. Opening. Remembering. Laughing our heads off at how goofy in love we were.

Maybe, after we move, I'll write another love letter or two, craft an envelope out of a page of the NYTimes, and tuck it away in our new rafters. Who knows how long it will be until we find them again. But when we do, how grand it will be.

Answers to My Own Questions: 9 Months Later

Last October, I (Anna writing here) posted ten of the many questions I had as an expectant mother. So much has changed in the nine months since I wrote the original post! This post will tell us if all those anxious questions I had during my pregnancy were actually worth worrying about. Below are the things I've realized, just as all those moms who have come before me have.

1. Will I still love my work?

Yes! I still absolutely love teaching and researching. Finding the time to conduct said work is another story. While I was pregnant I thought that having a baby would change me so much that I wouldn't enjoy the things I did before baby came. In terms of work, this has not held true. Now I just need to learn how to accomplish my work while also being a mom. Trickier than I once imagined.



2. Will my husband and I struggle to find our joint parenting style?

Not yet, at least. The biggest struggle is probably with time management. Do we clean up the house, or relax and watch Mad Men? Mad Men has been winning the past couple of nights. We try to never have the tv on when Thomas is awake (and unfortunately, he's awake more than he should be! The stinker fights his sleep). Sweeping can wait.

3. Will I experience the love everyone describes they have for their children?

Yes, instantly, yes. Carol told me not to worry about this one, but for some odd reason I still did. One thing I have learned, however, is that even though the love is unconditional and so very, very strong, I still get frustrated with him. When his razor sharp nails claw me or he pulls my hair, I get a little peeved. When people kept saying, "it's different when it's your own kid," I thought it meant that these things wouldn't bother me. Wrong-o. But then he giggles and it doesn't matter anymore. Maybe that's what they meant?

4. Will my view of the world change? My thoughts on politics or religion?

Nope. I haven't experienced a shift in either of these views. Perhaps, though, my opinions have more depth to them these days.

5. Will I still like my regular tv shows?

Yes and no. I miss having the time to watch them. But if I missed an episode of my shows, it doesn't bother me. I didn't finish the seasons of several of what my favorite shows used to be. And I don't really care. I never thought I'd say that!

6. Will I finally feel like a grown up?

Absolutely not. I still look at Thomas and think, "could this seriously be my child?" Aren't I still 18 years old? Not by a decade, but it feel doesn't feel that way.

7. Will I remain connected with my friends?

Yes, I have definitely remained connected to my friends. One thing that has changed, however, is that I cannot just pick up and go anymore. It takes a long time to pack the little guy up. And as soon as we're ready to head out the door...whoops...someone needs their diaper changed again. My friends definitely accept my role as a mother and the best of friends even help out with Thomas. I love my friends for loving my baby.

8. Will my baby be as fun(ny), cute, and smart as my nephews?

He is, objectively (ha), the cutest, smartest, most fun baby that ever lived. Ever. Right up there with my nephews!

9. How will I ever survive without sleep?

Well, Thomas was an excellent sleeper for the first 4 months of his life. So, I think he eased us in quite gently. The past two months, on the other hand, have been more challenging. But each day we keep on going. Somehow. It must be one of life's little mysteries. It helps to hear people say, "this is just a phase." And I'm certainly trying to not wish away this very sweet phase of his, just because I'm not sleeping as well as I used to.

10. Will my husband and I still laugh multiple times a day? Will we adapt our rituals?

I can finally understand why, time and again, studies have found that the years with young children are some of the hardest for married couples. Yes, we laugh multiple times a day. But the laughter that was once directed toward each other is often focused on Thomas. He'll make a cute face or noise and we'll laugh. One of us will do something funny to make him laugh and then we're all laughing. Our house is full of joyful moments. But it is definitely much harder to have in-depth conversations with our new addition and work schedules. We always loved to take walks and talk together, and this ritual has only become more important to us. Only now, our walks have several purposes: getting or keeping Thomas sleepy, chatting, and exercise.

I admit, there are times when I miss the ease of my childless life, but I cannot imagine my life without my little pumpkin. What would I do without him? I never want to find out. Were all these things worth worrying about? I'm once again reminded that it all works out in the end, just the way it should.