Marriage Tips
April 11, 2007

For all of my avid readers (according to my comments, I have none), you will notice that this is my second post of the day. "Why" you might wonder "is a girl who has to defend her thesis and take oral comps in a week, clean a pig sty apartment, and wrap her kid's birthday gifts blogging when she's just so busy?" Well folks, I'll tell you why. I am busy, I am overwhelmed, and there aren't enough hours in this day--but that heartfelt post from earlier simply failed to meet my needs. According to this era's physch-babble-lingo, I'm getting to know the inner-me--and the inner me seems to require some dose of reality-humor to feel satisfied, so here it goes...

I'm married. I have been for almost five years. In those years I've learned about the distinction between love and like. For example, I love my husband always--I like my husband most of the time. Today my friends, I'm not liking the old man so much. In honor of these irrational-throw-me-under-a-van-PMS induced feelings, I've compiled a short list of things I do *on occassion* to ruffle the old husbandly feathers.

1. From time to time I'll 'inadvertantly' switch the CD case in Jared's car. You see, we have three CD cases in our family: his musics, my music, and plain old crap. So Jared will be driving down the avenue and get a hankering to listen to some Pearl Jam or Dave Matthew's--but thanks to the old switcharoo, he has to settle for Celine Dionne or Comtemporary Christian Hits Volume II. Don't ask me why, but I feel so much satisfaction when I hear the old Blazer pull up and Jared is dispassionatley singing along to Endless Love.

2. Sometimes, like today, I'll pack multiple bean-based items in Jared's lunch. That way he'll fart his ass off during a quiet meeting or in a hands-on lab. Many apologies to Jared's classmates and lab partners.

3. Jared hates little messes. So sometimes I set them up in his favorite places around the house. You know how it goes, I empty a Barrel of Monkeys on the floor next to his side of bed, put some tub toys between the sheets, let Gracie gnaw on a carrot in his closet, empty a box or two of crayons into his bathroom drawer. He gets so exasperated--sweet, sweet satisfaction.

4. And finally, every once-in-a-while, when we're in a tiff, I give James some casual shoe-tying lessons. In other words I'm like "James buddy, come here and play with the stringy part of Daddy's shoe." I swear that kid is going to be an Eagle Scout some day--his knots are invincible.

So there you have it. Some tips to cope with normal, marital frustration. And may heaven pour endless blessings upon the head of my saintly husband.

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