I Miss My Ankles. A Whiney Post.

Some people's hearts swell with love. Some people are just swell people. Me, I swell with water retention. Here I have been whining about the lack of sunshine, the cold, wet weather, and the sorry excuse for a Spring that we've been having like a big baby. Yesterday we had a gloriously warm, sunshiny day. I was so happy I wanted to dance. I wanted to go on a picnic, drive to the beach, pick flowers and put them in my hair, and get the first sunburn of the year. I ran to the closet to slip my feet into my, until now, sadly underused sandals. But my feet wouldn't go in. I figured they must just be tight from non use, you know, like a pair of freshly dried jeans from the laundry. I tried harder, but it was a no go. In frustration I leaned over my big belly to try to see what was wrong, and then I saw them. My feet! Or were they water balloons? I couldn't tell. And what is with those ankles? Since when did my ankles have the same girth as my thighs? I wanted to grab a pin and pop them like water balloons. I wanted to hide in the closet till the baby is born. I wanted to go out and buy myself many floor length skirts to hide the monstrosities that were now my feet. I wanted to cry. I always swell up during the last months of pregnancy, but it never ceases to catch me off guard. How can a body look like that just all of a sudden? I had normal ankles the day before, and after just three hours of sitting in church each ankle seemed to have gained 20 pounds.

On the bright side I was able to witness the lovely results of patiently training/coaching a husband for the past ten years. I ran into his office and, sticking out my pachydermal protrusions, shrieked, "Just look at these! These aren't feet, they are mutant marshmallows!"

He looked, and without batting an eyelid was able to say, "What? I don't see anything but your lovely feet."

I, of course, had to point out every bulging vein, every discoloration, and the fact that I couldn't wrap two hands around my ankle (that is if I had been able to bend over that far). Still, he stayed strong. He pulled me onto his lap (managing not to grunt) and told me how lovely I am, how this will all go away soon, and how I will pop this baby out and immediately return to my super model body shape, and how I'm the most amazing woman he has ever known.

Yup, it may have taken me 10 years but I think I've finally taught my man exactly how I like to be lied to. =)

Timing Love

What do you use your timed minutes for? People all over America are setting their timers. What are we timing?

*Time-outs for naughty boys who painted the dog purple.

*Hair dyes that promise instant modelific beauty.

*A batch of guilty cookies to eat before the kids come home from school (We'll bake a batch for them too... later).

*The workout that promises harder abs in just 30 minutes.

*A daughter's shower, to insure that she leaves a little hot water for you.

*Organizing your home, writing that novel, or learning a new language, because we all know that with just 15 minutes a day anything is possible.

I wonder though, how many people use their timer the way that I do? I'm using my timer to save my marriage. I'm not sure when it started, or who first coined the term, "two minutes." All I know is that every time my husband or I calls, "Two minutes!" I feel grateful that we have it. The one answer I have is why we do it. As a young bride I was so in love, I wanted to spend every waking minute with my new possession, my husband. However, as poor married students I soon learned that time together would be rare and precious. I soon learned what many women learn in life: to be alone is one thing, but to have the love of your life sitting in the same room and not be allowed to talk to him because he is busy and has to work... well it is the loneliest feeling in the world. My husband would be right there yet I would feel miles away from him. If I tried to get his attention I would either feel guilty for taking him away from his work or I would feel rejected if he asked me to leave him alone. After the student years were over it was my husband's turn to feel the loneliness as I was often too busy, with a baby, cooking dinner, or completing some special project, to give him my full attention. Luckily I was smart enough to realize early on that wanting my husband to notice me didn't make me needy, unempowered, immature, or any of the other things I worried about being if I asked for his time. I recognized that we each had work to do and I couldn't expect my husband to graduate on time, with good grades, if I was monopolizing his time. And I certainly couldn't neglect my babies when they needed me. So we started doing "two minutes." When one of us calls this out we both drop what we are doing (move the pan off the burner, lay the baby in the crib, hit save on a file, etc), find a place to be alone, and hold each other. In that two minutes we aren't allowed to think of anything but the person we are holding and who we've promised to love for eternity. Then, who ever needs to get back to what they were doing can pull away after 2 minutes and the other person can't feel hurt or needy. We have both honored this as a sacred duty and blessing in our marriage. All the kids have learned to run off and leave us alone when we tell them we are having two minutes. I've even heard my oldest daughter tell her father, "I think mom needs her two minutes, dad," when I've had a really bad day. There have also been times when those two minutes have turned into a wonderful 15 or 30, as we find it hard to tear away from each other. It is hard to imagine a couple of minutes doing so much, but I know that my eternal companionship is being built, two minutes at a time.

Love vanquishes time. To lovers, a moment can be eternity, eternity can be the tick of a clock.

-Mary Parrish