The Husband Test

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I think I’ve developed a new test to see if a guy is husband material. Now, it’s probably not foolproof and I’m not going to offer a money-back guarantee or anything, but then again, I’m not going to charge you anything for it either.

All you have to do is go car shopping with him. Not looking for a car for you. Or even for a car that is designated to be shared from the outset. But for a car that is going to be his.

I can hear you now, “Lisa, did you hit your head ziplining the other day? Or maybe you’re finally having one of those teacher breakdowns. This is just nuts.”

Hopefully you know by now that I’m anything but normal and you trust me enough to hang with me.

Until 2005, my ex went through an assortment of cars, most of which I never drove. There was the 1956 Chevy without power steering that felt like wrestling the Hulk. There was the 1992 Integra he got from my mom whose clutch was out of reach for my petite femurs. This was followed by a pickup truck whose dimensions and layout intimidated me.

And then in 2005, he decided he wanted a good car. A new car. His own car. He decided on a 4Runner to maintain some of the utility of the truck while gaining the luxury of leather and fully conditioned space.I went with him to the dealership where I briefly test drove the vehicle in a parking lot after my husband took it through its paces on the open road. Even though my name was on the loan and on the title, that was only time I was ever behind the wheel.

Now, in all fairness, some of that was my doing. It was a large vehicle and driving it was out of my comfort zone. But asking to drive it was even more out of my comfort zone. Although generous in many respects, I somehow understood that his car was not mine to drive. It was his domain. And I was always a visitor.

Many years later, I was home sick from work, sleeping on the couch in my apartment. The phone rang, waking me from my feverish slumber. Seeing Brock’s name on the display, I picked up the phone and mumbled a groggy and somewhat irritated, “Hey.”

“I need you to come with me to buy a car.”

“What? I’m sick; I feel like crap. That’s the last thing I want to do,” I complained. I knew his old car was on its last legs and a new purchase was imminent, but seeing that we had only been dating for 6 months, I didn’t see what it had to do with me.

“I found a car I like and that should work, but I won’t buy it if you can’t drive it.”

What else could I do? I put some clothes on and stumbled down the stairs and met him in the parking lot of my complex. On the drive across town, he talked through the purchase, enumerating the pros and cons of the used CRV. I tried to pay attention, but it honestly became a blur. Once at the dealership, he insisted that I drive the car. Not just in a parking lot. But on a road. Certain that I was comfortable (or at least as comfortable as I could be with a raging case of strep throat), we went inside to the offices. I read a book while he handled the negotiations and all the paperwork. This time, I had no financial or legal claim to the vehicle, yet I already felt more like a co-owner than I ever did with the 4Runner.

His initial generosity with the car has continued; I’ve driven it on and off over the years, especially when my car is being naughty. But, at the end of the day, it’s just a Honda. And a used one at that.

The real test actually hit this past week. When we first met, Brock had a motorcycle that he loved. He eventually decided to sell it (I think the fun/danger ratio finally got to him) with the intention of someday buying a Corvette to take its place. I’ll be honest, I never understood the…well, drive for the muscle car. It seemed silly to me, but it was important to him.

Recently, he’s been getting closer to making that dream a reality. And, also recently, my car has been throwing a hissy fit. I saw the two events as basically separate. The ‘Vette, although still a dream, was his baby. And the CRV would frequently be required for his work. My transportation was another issue entirely. So I was shocked yesterday at his proposal, “There’s a Corvette I’m going to look at tomorrow and I want you to come with me. I want to make sure you can drive it.”

He went on to say that if my car’s recent tantrum turned out to be the beginning of the end, we could sell my car and make the Corvette my primary vehicle until I was able to get my own car.

I think my jaw dropped. This was his dream and I was more than just invited. I was being offered the keys.

We test drove the car. And, even as nonchalant as I am about all things car, I have to admit it was pretty freaking awesome. And even better, my foot reaches the clutch.

From there, we went to go pick up my car after its most recent surgery. I’m happy to report that it received a clean bill of health and a prognosis of a long and healthy life ahead.

When it comes down to it, I really don’t care that much about what I drive.

But what I do care about is that I now have a husband that will let me take the driver’s seat.

Even if he does tease me for going too slowly:)

Dependable

Posted on by stilllearning2b

My husband made me cry today.

Yeah, I know. He didn’t really “make me” cry. I have the choice in how I respond, blah, blah, blah.

Because the way I see it today is that his actions could have led to no other response.

 

Let me explain and let’s see if you agree.

Today was Lisa Arends’ terrible, horrible, no good very bad day.

It started on my early morning commute to work. I was a couple miles from the house this morning when my “check engine” light came on and the car started feeling funny. I immediately pulled into a parking lot and shut off the engine even as I dialed my husband on my cell.

I’ve been playing a bit of Russian Roulette with this car for the past few years. I bought it new 15 years ago. Yeah, 15. When I bought it, I wasn’t even married the first time yet. Hell, I was barely of legal drinking age. For the most part, it has been dependable, but it’s of an age where a fatal incident may come at any time.

But I’m not ready yet. I’m still about 9 months away from cleaning up the rest of the financial mess that my lovely ex left for me and, until that is done, I don’t have the extra cash on hand for a car payment. Plus, I also still have his parting gift of bad credit to deal with. So, needless to say, that glaring red light on my dash this morning felt like the eye of Smaug before I was to be stricken from this earth.

I felt horrible waking up my husband, still recovering from surgery, but I had to get to work to handle the yearbook distribution. Without a grumble, he picked me up, ferried me to school, contacted his mechanic friend and waiting with my car until AAA showed up with a tow truck.

But I wasn’t crying yet.

The yearbooks went okay. Everything else? Not so much.

The graphing calculators, instrumental for the today’s lesson, must have been visited by some vampire version of the Energizer Bunny last night, as all of their batteries decided to drain en masse. And the school’s stock of AAA (not the auto company!) batteries in the last week of school? Let’s just say weak.

I managed to beg, borrow and steal enough batteries to cobble together the lesson. So far, so….okay. But then one of the critical websites disappeared. Not okay. I scrambled to find a work around while my kids (did I mention last week of school) got ever nuttier. The day was capped off by one of my students telling me he hated me and hated my class. If you’ve ever thought being around middle schoolers all day is sunshine and roses, you may need to take a Saturday trip to mall. And then try to make the random teenagers do math.

A coworker was driving me home where I was supposed to go with my husband to pick up the car. On the way, I received a text, “Will you grab my wallet out of the driver’s side door of my car on your way in?”

“Sure,” I responded.

Minutes later, I struggled to locate his wallet with my purse strangling me and my suitcase-sized lunch bag (no joke) bumping into my car behind me.

My car!?!

I’m embarrassed to admit it took me a few moments (a few meaning several here) to notice that my car was in the garage. I blame emotional exhaustion.

I bolted upstairs.

“What, why, how…?”

“I took care of it.”

He then referenced an old conversation. He used to ride motorcycles back when we met. He sold his bike when he decided it was too risky. Ever since, he’s been talking about getting a Corvette in its place at some point in the near future. I expressed some reservations, mainly arising from my own fears. I worried that if a Corvette was in the picture and my car suffered a premature death, that I would be in a bind. He assured me during that conversation that he had my back.

“Do you remember when we talked about the Corvette and I said I had your back with your car?”

“Yes.”

“Today I showed it.”

 

The cost.

The stress of dealing with it.

The uncertainty of work while being carless.

All done.

Taken care of.

See. How could I not cry?

In most ways, I trust him easily now. But when it comes to money and my basic needs (like a car), it’s harder for me to be dependent on someone else.

I depended before, and I was horribly burned.

But that was then, and this is now.

And after today, when he says, “I’ve got your back,” I’ll trust him to catch me if I fall.

Just as the tears are falling now.

 

And, yeah, he IS a keeper!

 

 

 

I Loved My Husband Last Night

Posted on by stilllearning2b
my husband

I loved my husband last night.

 

He rubbed my legs, sore and stiff from the demands of the end of the school year.

But that’s not why I loved him.

 

He took me out to dinner to get some gluten free pizza that I’ve been craving for weeks.

But that’s not why I loved him.

 

We had a great conversation about our hopes and dreams and plans for semi- and real retirement.

But that’s not why I loved him.

 

In fact, the reason I loved him had nothing to do with me at all.

 

The young waiter at the restaurant last night was having a rough time. Our salads never came out. My husband’s order was somehow replaced with a sub par facsimile. My husband expressed his displeasure when the waiter came around to check on the order. I could tell the young guy was flustered. He flipped to our order in his tablet to confirm he recorded the right dish. Based upon his utterances, I think he understood the order but wrote it in a way that was confusing to decipher. He walked off to handle the kitchen and put in the request for the right dish.

The manager came around and told us the replacement would be out soon. My husband indicated he really just wanted the salad which was ordered almost a half hour prior.

The waiter returned to tell us the new meal was on its way and asked if we needed anything. “Just our salads,” my husband said, “But I think your boss is getting them now.”

A look of pure shame and frustration fell over the waiter’s face, the final curtain after a poorly received act. As he walked towards the back, I saw his arms go up to his face as though they wanted to punish him and shield him at the same time.

I mentioned my observation to my husband, as he was facing the other way.

And what he did next is the reason I loved him.

When the correct order was finally placed in front of him (a grilled pizza slathered in peppers and mushrooms), he called the waiter over. The boy approached, hesitantly. “This is awesome!” my husband exclaimed, reaching out for a fist bump with the surprised waiter.

When the manager again came to check on us, my husband stated, “Tell our waiter he’s doing a really good job making sure that everything’s okay.”

And on the check, he added the words, ‘Thank you. Good job!” above the tip line.

 

I loved my husband last night not because of what he does for me or for our family but for what he did for a stranger who was having a rough night.

I loved my husband last night for making the effort to make someone smile and for bringing some good into someone’s day.

I loved my husband last night for his empathy and generosity.

I loved my husband last night for reaching out even when he had nothing to gain in return.

 

Maybe the way we treat waiters really does reveal our true selves.

 

 

Alert Levels

Posted on by stilllearning2b

As a country, we became familiar with alert levels in travel after 9/11. We felt the apprehension of a code red and perhaps even modified our plans. We grew comfortable with the ever-present code orange, understanding that some level of threat is always present, even while dreaming of a day when all airports operate under a code green.

These alert levels were accepted as prudent. It was not a way of assuming culpability for the attacks nor was it lamented that we shouldn’t have to be alert. Rather, it was simply an acknowledgement that we needed to pay attention and respond to any information coming in.

As someone who faced deception and betrayal in her marriage, I became familiar with alert levels in relationships. And I realized and rectified the mistake the  mistake I made in my first marriage.

Relationship Code Red

There are times when all the sirens should be sounding. This is an appropriate alert level if you discover deception or face abuse. In those cases, proceed cautiously and call for back-up. Often, one or both partners is operating in a code red even when there no triggers within the marriage. This can arise from prior relationships or from insecurity, where fear is sounding a false alarm. A healthy relationship cannot exist under prolonged code red conditions. Get help or get out.

Relationship Code Orange

I think this is a healthy alert state for the infancy of a relationship. It can be all too easy to fall with the heart and leave the brain behind. No matter the attraction, it is important to remember that the person is still largely unknown to you. This is a time to question and verify. In an established relationship, a code orange is sounded when there are perceived significant difficulties – a lack of intimacy or connection, a lie, a breaking of a boundary. It is a reminder to be aware of your partner and your circumstances. It may be a minor blip that can be corrected easily or it may require outside assistance. Prolonged code orange isn’t healthy; it leads to a marriage filled with suspicions and doubts. Listen to the alert. It’s telling you to pay attention.

Relationship Code Yellow

A code yellow is not necessarily cause for alarm. It is an appropriate level during times of change – birth of child, new job, a move. All of these place new demands on the relationship and it is smart to be aware of potential complications. It is a reminder to not put your spouse or your marriage on autopilot, to be present in your relationship. Think of it as a nudge. If ignored, the threat level can easily escalate. But just a little attention can put things back on the right track.

Relationship Code Green

This is the ideal state for a healthy, established relationship that is built on trust. The alert system is on, yet it is reporting no threats.

So the mistake I made? After getting to know my ex husband, I turned off the alert system. I trusted him. I trusted him to remain trustworthy. Now, who knows? Even if my alarm system was fully operational, his brilliant deceptions may still have gone unnoticed. And it’s certainly no excuse for his behavior. But that’s no reason for me not to do my part.

So now my relationship alert system is on and fully operational, humming along at code green.

Scared of Love? You’re Not Alone

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I hear so many people proclaim that they never want to remarry. Or even to fall in love again. They’ve been bitten and now they’re shy.

Or, more accurately, scared of being hurt again.

I get it. It’s certainly safer to build those walls and live within.

Safer. But also limiting.

A life in a cage.

And I believe we’re meant to fly.

Even though we may fall sometimes.

This article on reasons why people are afraid of love came across my feed today. Read it. I related; I bet you will too.

And then let your fears be the beginning rather than the end.