The Broken Ring

About two years ago my wedding ring broke. At first I thought something was stuck under my ring, but when I finally looked, I saw that it had split right in half, and the two sides sometimes caught my skin between them, pinching me. I showed my husband, who was concerned. He didn't want me to lose my ring, so I took both the engagement ring and wedding band off, because they were separate pieces that fit together, and wearing one looked incomplete to me. After wearing it for 6 years, it felt weird not wearing my wedding ring.

He said he'd fix it right away. So I put the ring in my jewelry box and waited.

And waited.

The longer I waited for him to fix it, the more angry and resentful I became. I began to think it wasn't important enough for him to take care of, and after a while, I thought he just didn't care.

That one thing, my one request that he put off for months, made me seethe inside. Every day it was there, in the back of my mind, nagging at me. Why couldn't he just fix it? How long am I going to have to wait for him to do something about it? The whole situation became a metaphor for our marriage. I wasn't important enough; what I wanted didn't matter; he didn't make time for me; I'm tired of waiting for him.

I waited 6 months before I finally decided to fix it myself. Almost defiantly (I was thinking, I'll show him!) I took the ring to a local jeweler who said they could repair it in a week's time. No trouble with the engraving? None. I was happy with that arrangement, but still angry with my husband.

When I returned a week later the ring was like new again. The white gold on the band gleamed. Every line of the engraving was perfect. The diamond sparkled. It made me remember how he said he'd searched for over a year for the perfect diamond, and perfect setting. I slid it into place in the familiar indentation of my finger. It still fit me perfectly.

For the longest time I was actually angry at having to do it for myself. And then I realized what a ninny I was. I am an intelligent, educated woman. I am perfectly capable of doing for myself. So why shouldn't I? But I kept telling myself his inaction meant that he didn't care, or that I wasn't important.

The broken ring really was a metaphor for our marriage. It seemed to be breaking down. I wanted him to change it, to fix it. But it wasn't all up to him. The ring wasn't pinching him. It was pinching me.

You know those conversations (or arguments) you have with yourself in the shower, in the twilight of sleep, in your daydreams while you're washing dishes, or folding laundry. Those conversations in my head shaped my moods, my actions. I lost myself in my own thoughts, and he had no idea what was wrong. He knew I was angry. He knew I was unhappy. He thought I was just cagey with my stay-at-home life.

I was losing myself. It was gradual, my realization, but that awakening saved me a lot of grief. I could see it leading us apart.I think it saved my marriage. I know it changed how I look at things, and certainly how I react.

So when little things pinch me now, I let him know. So we can talk about it together. And a lot of times, I take care of things myself.

It's Been Merry

We got through it with flying colors. And wrapping paper. This was the first Christmas in recent memory that we have spent the whole week before Christmas and especially the big day at home. And it was glorious!

I read an article that the retail industry experienced disappointing sales this holiday season. They may think it's lack of consumer confidence, but in our family, it was focusing on what was important. We've implemented the 3 gift rule for the kids--three from mom & dad, 3 from Santa, one gift for each other (the kids), and one for each of us. That might sound like a lot, and maybe it is, and it will probably be even less next year. Because I know that a single thoughtful gift means so much more than having a bunch of stuff under the tree.

What Matters

Clint and I finally hit a wall for the thoughtful gift surprise. At one point he shook his head and said, "If there's anything you want, just tell me, because I'm at a loss as to what to get you."

Honestly, I said, I don't really want anything. I already have everything I need and want. And it may sound hokey, but I don't need or want the latest and greatest. I enjoy my first generation Nook reader; my wardrobe could use some help, but that can only improve with the loss of about 15-20 pounds; I have a good working camera, computer, iPod, a new car, a house we are working to improve (and be proud of our hard work), and we have each other. And aside from spending more time together and as a family, I want for nothing. So I asked for the only thing I could think of: A set of bongos.

After an arched eyebrow, I said I was serious. I want to make music with the girls. It will improve dance time immensely. He nodded.

Clint has always been one to get what he wants, and since he's a gadget man, and knows them better than I do, he buys what he wants, like noise cancelling headphones, the iPod, the digital cameras, xBox Kinnect, you get the idea. So I stay away from that stuff, but what does it leave? Practical things, like travel mugs, wallets, and khaki pants. Stuff that make us both cringe. This year, he asked for a globe. So I got him an internet updatable, interactive globe. He's been travelling so much, he wanted to show the kids where he's going, and this globe goes a step further, talking about capitals, anthems, history, and much more.

Aside from downsizing the number of gifts, I want to continue reducing the amount of waste. I wrap a few gifts, but our stockings are stuffed with unwrapped gifts; I use and reuse gift bags and tissue paper. Even Santa is green, reusing felt gift bags every year--he even reuses the gift tags. Let's face it: the girls, and even Clint don't remember what the wrap looks like, because I've been reusing Santa's bags for 3 years now.

Wrapping (and not wrapping) frees me up to prep the turkey on Christmas Eve so that I could enjoy the girls in the morning instead of being in the kitchen. And it was awesome to hear Clint playing with the girls, even if they were running around the house like banshees.

Crumpet Goes Home

It was a relief to send Crumpet the Elf back to his home. Thanks to Pinterest and other overachievers, the bar for the Elf on the Shelf is ever higher, and I'm not certain I'm going to stay in that race. On several days he was found in the same place as the previous day, and once--perched as he was over the curtain rod behind our tree--he nearly toppled in front of the kids when I pulled open the curtain. Maisey screamed not to touch him as I reached up to steady him. It was a moment of dread that I shouldn't have to feel, really. But he's back in the North Pole, and I'm sure by the time he returns next year I'll be excited and once again will surely over plan the entire month. And yes, I've already pinned a few Elf on the Shelf websites on Pinterest.

Being Thankful

I am thankful to my hubby for helping out with Crumpet this year. And so thankful we got to spend a week at home before travelling to see family. I felt much more relaxed and happy, and when we did travel, visiting was much more enjoyable.

On Facebook, a lot of people wrote little things they were grateful for each day to commemorate Thanksgiving. But I'm thankful for the week at home with my family. The greatest gift of all is life. Second to that is enjoying it with loved ones.

And now I look forward to making some awesome music with my new set of bongos.