A Tale of Two Rings (The Lesson I Learned When I Lost My Wedding Ring)

We were married on a whim. The decision came to us on a plane en route to Dominica. “You want to?” he asked. “Sure!” I answered.

Without a plan or a care in the world, we made the arrangements to marry on our very first vacation together. We strolled through the market place in search of silver rings. 

We exchanged our vows in casual cloths by a waterfall in the courtyard of the hotel for all guests to see. 

When I returned to work as a newly married woman, I told one of my co-workers. Before congratulating me, she demanded to “see the ring.” I explained that it was unplanned and held up my hand with my silver ring that was too big.  

“Oh…well, congratulations,” she said. But I could tell that she thought I was cheated out of a princess cut diamond ring like the one on her finger. (She was divorced the following year.)

***

A year later on our 1st year anniversary, The Husband and I threw a wedding reception. The party was for our family. I just wanted the pretty dress. But even that day was low key. 

It was on that day - our 1 year wedding anniversary that we were supposed to exchange rings once again. The Husband picked them out, really. I wanted to go to the local jewelry store but he did his homework. He found this Japanese jewelry store in Soho. We picked out our rings and had them engraved. 

Mine: He won me over. 

His: She wore me down.

On the day of our anniversary party, we meant to exchange/renew our vows. But we got so caught up with family and friends and the dancing, eating and celebrating - we never did. At the end of the evening, when it was just us - we exchanged rings. No vows or words were said. Just our rings and a kiss. 

1 year wedding anniversary June 2004

***

As I sat on the floor of my hotel room, unpacking my suitcase and shaking out my clothes searching for my ring for the 20th time, I wondered: How could I lose my wedding ring? Where could it be? 

I searched the room and all of my bags. I checked under the beds and behind the toilet. I even took a cup and turned it upside down before looking one last time - it's an old wives tale someone shared with me. I asked the cleaning woman and reported it to the hotel. No ring.

I thought of The Husband, home with The Boy so that I could attend a blog conference. It's because of The Husband's commitment to me and our family, that allows me to do what I do. Without his support, I couldn't do it.

As I sat in the hotel lobby on Sunday morning with my suitcases packed, staring at my naked hand, I started to cry. I thought of my flight from New York to Atlanta - how with every bump of rough air I clasped my hands and looked at my ring. How could I get back on a plane to New York without it?  

Hours later, I walked out of LaGuardia airport and was greeted by The Husband and The Boy. Both were happy to see me. And I was happier to see them. 

By then The Husband knew I lost my ring and he was upset but he helped me put things in perspective. "That's not the ring I first put on your finger. The original ring means more to me."  

Both rings have a sentimental value to me for different reasons. When he offered to buy me a new ring, I refused. I don't want a new ring. I want my ring.

Later that afternoon, before heading out to lunch I slipped on the silver ring - my original wedding band and smiled. It's still too big and the ring guard annoys me but it's mine. I still wanted my other ring but I was grateful I had at least one. A ring is a ring - it means everything and yet ultimately it means nothing. 

Last June we celebrated ten years of marriage. It's been a decade of highs and lows. Our marriage is far from perfect. There are days we wear each other down and days we win each other over. We laugh, we love, we fight, we move on. 

A wedding ring is symbol of our commitment but it's not the thing that binds us and keeps us together. Our love does that.

    

The Day I Ran Away From Home

I have been under a lot of stress lately. Feeling like I am being pulled in a million directions. Struggling to catch up and feeling like I'm always falling short.

Last week I submitted my thesis - five years worth of my best writing and it was like this weight was lifted off of my shoulders.

But there was still mounds of laundry to get done. Stacks of unopened mail. Paperwork to fill out. And everywhere I looked there was something that needed to get done. So much stuff that I let pile up for so long.

Then the pressure of writing and deadlines. Writing for Babble & Parents are second and third jobs for me. So between working outside the home, writing at night, writing my thesis, taking care of The Boy it was only a matter of time before I snapped.

Well I snapped last Saturday. Big time. (The Husband and I may have gotten into a little tiff.) And I just needed to get out. Because sometimes you just need to get away from your husband and your kid and your home. Sometimes you just need to say: F--k doing laundry and dishes and groceries and responsibility. 

As I was getting dressed The Boy asked, "Where are you going Mommy?" (I know!! Such an appropriate WH-question!!) 

"Out." I said.

"You're going to the supermarket." The Boy said. It sounded more like demand. 

"No. I am not going to the supermarket. I am just going out."

I kissed him goodbye and walked out the door.

I took the train downtown and had an amazing day with my best girlfriends. We had sangria and burgers and wine and nutella panini's. (What can I say, we have pretty sophisticated taste.) I took a picture with Captain Cragen (swoon). And I treated myself to a mani/pedi.

I needed that day. All moms deserve a day to run away from home. 

When I returned hours later, The Husband told me that when I walked out the door The Boy said, "Mommy's going to Texas."

Apparently, the only places The Boy thinks I go is to the supermarket and Texas.  I don't always have to run to the supermarket for solace and I don't have to go as far as Texas (nor do I want to) but sometimes a happy compromise and a day away from it all is good for the mom soul.               

Why I Will NOT Watch The #Oscars (and 8 Things I'll Be Doing Instead)

I love movies. And I love Hollywood gossip and glamour. But I just can't sit through the awards shows. I don't watch any of them. Not even The Oscars.

There are 2 two mains reasons why I will not watch The Oscars®:

I haven't seen any of the Oscar® picks (at least I don't think I have). I'm not even sure who's nominated. But I keep hearing something about Argo and Les Miserables. (I know who's in them...just haven't seen them. I mean, I just saw The Artist - last year's fave.) The Husband and I love movies. We have a pretty impressive DVD collection. But we don't actually go out to the movies. We so rarely have a night out together that going to a movie together is impossible. 

The last movie we saw together was The Hobbit - and we took a vacation day for a day date. And before that, the last movie I went to see was the last Twilight movie and I saw that on a Sunday morning by myself. And The Husband That's what going to the movies have come down to for us - the rare vacation day/day date and going to the movies solo.

I have no desire to watch people at a fabulous party. Because that's what I feel like The Oscars® is - a big fabulous party to which I am not invited. I mean if your next door neighbors were throwing a huge gala would you spend three to four hours staring out your window? Probably not. I guess that's why people have Oscar® viewing parties - so they feel like they are in on the action. But I'm not hosting people on a Sunday night when I have to work the next day and I'm certainly not going out on a Sunday night when I have to work the day so...

Why bother watching?

What will I be doing instead?

1. Writing - I have lots of deadlines and exciting stuff coming up.
2. Trying to get The Boy to go to sleep.
3. Prepping for the week - folding clothes, getting The Boy's clothes together...
4. Washing dishes - because there are always dishes to wash. 
5. Washing my hair - it's a process
6. Scrolling through Facebook and Twitter reading everyone's update.
7. Contemplating whether I should tune in to watch after reading someone's update to see what they're talking about.
8.  Asking The Husband for the remote control for 2 seconds so I could change the channel and watch a few minutes. Because ultimately, I'm a nosy neighbor and I can't resist just sneaking a peak. (He will most likely say no. And I'll be okay with it.)

Will you be watching? Have you see any of the picks?

And if you won't be watching and wondering what to do instead, may I suggest catching up on my Babble posts this week? (And even if you are watching ...there are always the commercial breaks and the categories no one really cares about.)

10 Common Autism Terms That You Should Know

I'm Not Waiting for my Son to Grow out of Autism

10 Milestones & Moments Worth Celebrating

the LITTLE things are a BIG deal #3

Post #3 for the LITTLE things are a BIG deal meme.  It's easy to link up and share your story. [copy/paste the button (above) in your post or sidebar.  Refer to my blog in your post & link to my current "the LITTLE things are a BIG deal" post. Link your post with Linky Tools.] For information click HERE.  You do not have to be a special needs parent to link up.  AutismWonderland is a community.  And I want to celebrate your every day wonderful moments with you.

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Life as a full-time working mom/part-time grad student is pretty stressful.  There is always an appointment to make, a paper to write and laundry to fold.   And while The Husband and I have an 'equal' partnership, the majority of the housework falls on me.  When The Boy is sick, that's my responsibility too.  It's just the way that it is.  Not only for me, but for a lot of working mothers.


Don't get me wrong, The Husband does help.   I just do more.  And when I complain talk about it with my mother, she scoffs "Well, that's your job as The Wife."


And I guess there is a part of me that agrees with this because I do the food shopping, cleaning and cooking. I do the laundry sorting, washing, folding and putting away. 


And as exhausting as all this is, I don't mind it.  (Not really.)  It's all part of taking care of my family.  And because I love them, I want to do everything I can for them.  


But on days when I come home from work, tired and worn out from the commute and dinner is ready.  Or the dishes are washed.


All those Tuesday nights (for the last 3 years), when I walk out of class and The Husband is there, waiting to drive me home.  And The Boy is already bathed and homework completed.  


I make sure to say "Thank You."  


Thank you for making dinner.  


Thank you for washing the dishes. 

Thank you for picking me up.  
  
And The Husband will say, "Why are you thanking me?  It's no big deal." 


And then I have to explain it to him.  


It is no big deal to him. But it's a big deal to me.  


When The Husband washes the dishes, it's one less thing I need to do.  I have a little more time in the evening, I could read another story to The Boy.  I could take an extra 10 minutes to relax.  A sink without dishes makes my life just a little bit easier.  


A 1o minute car ride home from school, rather than taking a 45 minute bus/train ride - gets me home faster, calmer, safer.  And knowing that The Boy is ready for bed, I can come home after a long day and just relax.


Maybe The Husband thinks along the lines of my mother and me.  Maybe he assumes it's part of his job as The Husband.


But the truth is, we don't have to do anything.  These are the little things we choose to do for each other.      
      

Love Accidentally

We met by chance.  I was a receptionist.  Joseph (The Husband), a Fed Ex courier.  Eleven years ago, he delivered a package.  He's "been delivering one ever since." The Husband loves to add that line.

What made it a chance encounter? 

(a) It wasn't his regular route.

(b) I had quit that job, started a new one, only to return two weeks after I quit.  I met Joseph one week after I returned.  

(c) I had just moved 10 minutes away from where he lived.  

Fast forward, three years after our chance encounter.  Joseph and I jet set off on our first vacation: Dominica - the "nature" island.  (It's truly a place untouched by commercialism.  We cannot wait to return with The Boy.)   

In order to get to Dominica, we had to board a small propeller plane in Puerto Rico.  Now, I hate flying in general.  But propeller planes? Scare. The. Crap. Out. Of. Me!  

And what was supposed to be a 30 minute plane ride, turned into 3 hours of flying around in tropical storms and turbulence.  The whole time I squeezed Joseph's hand and he reassured me.  Looking out the window, all I could see was fog.  No land.  No water.  And all I kept thinking about was Joseph and I plummeting to our demise.  (Did I mention, we watched Cast Away the week before our trip?)  We circled the airport a few times, the pilot attempted several landings but the turbulence was the worst I've ever experienced.  

At one point, I turned to Joseph and declared my undying love.  I may have even started to cry.  (I'm a tad dramatic and do not do well under pressure.) And then we started at talking about something else and I think he said something about us getting married while we were in Dominica.  I mean, it's all very foggy (no pun intended) - after all, I seriously thought the plane was going to crash into the ocean.  Come to think of it, maybe that's why I got the proposal...    

After a few more attempts to land on Dominica, the pilot flew back to Puerto Rico for the night.  The next day, we landed safely in Dominica.  That evening Joseph and I talked to the event planner at the hotel and by the end of our stay (6 days later), we were married.  No fuss, no muss - just us.  

One year after we were married on Dominica, we had a reception to celebrate with our family and friends.  

1 year after our Dominica wedding

And three years after we were married, The Boy was born.  And that was unplanned too.  

Some things are just better that way.        


The post was inspired by Mama Kat's Writing Prompt "Married? Tell us the story of how the question was popped."

If I were really Wonder Woman, I'd have a much smaller waist.

This morning I woke up in a crabby mood.  But after taking a "vacation" day yesterday to stay home with The Boy because he was sick.  I was happy to get up and get dressed to go to work.  Eight hours at the office is much more relaxing than eight hours at home with a sick kid.  


And then I walked into the kitchen to make a cup of coffee. 


And there they were.  Taunting me.  Staring me down.  And all like, "Yeah, we're still here.  And what?"


Damn you, dirty dishes!


So while my coffee was brewing and before taking a shower, I washed a sink full of dishes.  From the meal that I cooked the night before.  All the while cursing out thinking of The Husband (my sleeping beauty still snoring in bed).


This led to a mild morning argument  discussion.  I won't get into those details.  Feel free to use your imagination.  Or if you're married, you probably won't have to imagine too hard. 


In all fairness, The Husband is a pretty great guy.  And he does help me.  And The Husband would have washed the dishes - had I asked him too.  And that's my problem.  I don't ask him.  I don't ask him for help until I'm annoyed that he hasn't helped me.

My other problem?  When he attempts to wash the dishes without being asked?  I shoo him away because he doesn't do it right.  But in my defense, The Husband has very delicate skin (bendito) and can only wash dishes with cold water.       

But dirty dishes isn't really the problem.


My biggest problem is: I don't know how to ask for help.

I am not the kind of person to ask for help when I need it. And even if help is offered, I don't take it.  I always think that I can do things by myself.  I take on too much.  I don't know how to delegate - not that The Husband is one to be ordered around.  But you know what I mean.  For me, asking for help seems like a sign of weakness.


Because I'm a wife. A mother.  My job is to do everything.  And help everyone.  It's what I'm supposed to do.  Isn't it?


Um...no.  Not really. It isn't.  


Because I am not Wonder Woman.  I am human.  I cannot do it all. This year especially I've taken on a lot of extra responsibility - with The Boy's Turning 5 drama and all.  So while I may have felt I was on my own.  I really wasn't. 


Yes, there were things that The Husband could not do or be a part of.  Not because he didn't want to be, he just physically couldn't, due to the demands of his new job.  But, there were a lot of things he could of helped with.  I was am just too stubborn and too "strong" to ask.


And when you are pretend to be strong and front like no assistance is needed - people kind of stop attempting and offering. 


Well, I've been strong for too long.  And it's showing.


I am tired, frustrated, mentally and physically exhausted.  Working full time, going to school and raising a child with special needs - is not easy.  And maintaining our little abode.  And signing The Boy up for therapies.  Filling out paperwork, scheduling appointments.  And on 4 to 5 hours of sleep a night.  I need to stop pretending that this is normal.  I need a break.  I DO need help.  And I do have someone willing to help me.  If only I were to ask for help.      


Unless, I pranced around in this little get up - then I wouldn't need to ask a thing.  Dinner would be served and the dishes would be washed.  But that's a whole other adults only post...




"Wishes won't wash dishes." ~ American Proverb


This post was inspired by a Kick in the Blog prompt:  When was the last time you asked for help? When was the last time you should have asked and didn't?