Tim and Jenni reflect on their family life, parenting challenges, and the unique experiences of 2020, the best year that wasn’t. They share humorous anecdotes about their children, discuss the impact of the pandemic on their lives, and reminisce about pop culture moments from that year. The conversation flows from light-hearted family stories to more profound reflections on the lessons learned during a tumultuous time.
Read some stories while you’re here
Tim and Jenni opened bottles of LamarcA to record their Oscars Special, and it showed. We recommend opening your own bottle to join them in discussing all things Oscars and movies.
In this episode, Tim and Jenni discuss their love of the Academy Awards, how becoming parents added a gap in their movie knowledge, their favorite movies and performances of previous winners, their predictions for this year’s awards, and Tim’s impromptu acceptance speech.
Read about their trip to the Gone With The Wind museum.
Background Photo by Samuel Ramos on Unsplash
The Kids Are In Bed Episode 3 – Tim and Jenni discuss Tim’s latest piece, “Letting Go,” their latest strategy for keeping their kids in bed, what couples most commonly fight about, and all things “Grease.” Don’t forget to like, comment, and subscribe. New episodes every Wednesday!
Listen here or watch on YouTube @theofficialtimtalks
He feels the warm morning sun on his face through the blinds in his bedroom, followed by her warmth as she presses against his back, draping her arm over his shoulder. He takes a deep breath and catches a faint scent of her perfume from yesterday.
“I think today is the day,” she whispers, gently into his year.
With that, his eyes open, and he is awake. He rolls over to see the bright, smiling face of his wife, Catherine, framed by her long blonde hair. He is always caught off guard by how the smallest moments remind him how lucky he is to have her in his life, convinced his heart will explode out of his chest.
I can’t wait to tell my Dad; he is going to be thrilled, Daniel thought.
“Have you felt any contractions?” He said, trying to disguise the concern in his voice.
“I think I felt one a little while ago. It was faint, but something tells me, today is the day,” she said with a smile, then concern flashed across her face, “Regardless, I think you need to do it today.”
“I know,” he said, rolling to his back and wiping the sleep out of his eyes.
“Hey, it’s going to be okay. You’ve been preparing, and just think, once it’s over you’ll get to meet your daug…” Catherine said, cutting herself off when she realized what she had started to say.
“Wait. Daughter? We’re going to have a baby girl?”
“Don’t be mad. When I went in for my last check, the nurse accidentally told me and…”
“Mad? Mad?! How could I be mad? We are going to have a baby girl, a little you. I have never been more excited in my entire life.”
He gave Catherine a kiss, got out of bed, and made his way to the shower. He needed to get in touch with his Dad; the sooner, the better.
Sharing big news with his Dad is one of his favorite things to do in life. He had a knack for providing a reaction that matched the moment’s gravity. Never underwhelmed, never too much enthusiasm, always just right.
He smiled as he rinsed the shampoo from his hair, recalling the day he got his first hole-in-one. On a late August evening, he got off the golf course just before sunset. He ran to his car to call his Dad, ignoring the yells from his friends reminding him he had to pay for drinks inside the clubhouse.
“Hey buddy, what’s up? Your Mom and I are out for dinner in one of those restaurants that consider it rude to have a conversation above a murmur,” he whispered.
“Oh, uh, sorry, maybe we can just talk tomorrow,” he said, hoping the disappointment wasn’t evident on his face.
“Hmmm, something tells me I want to hear this news right now.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want to interrupt.”
His Dad stared at the phone with a knowing look.
“Alright, alright. Well, I just got off the course, and I got a hole-in-one on fifteen,” Daniel said, trying to keep his voice at a respectful volume. He realized his Dad hadn’t moved as he broke the news and said, “Dad, are you there?”
Then he saw the corners of his Dad’s mouth start to curl into a smile threatening to touch his ears as he said, “Gotcha.”
Then he stood up, knocking his chair over backward. Then, in the middle of the quiet and crowded restaurant, he yelled, “Woooo! Attention everyone: my son just got his first hole-in-one, and the next round is on me. Let’s go!”
The once-silent restaurant erupted into cheers as Daniel heard his Mom attempting to tell the other customers it was a joke, but it was too late. That would go down as the day Daniel hit a hole-in-one, and his Dad ran up a two thousand dollar bar tab.
He dressed, made himself a cup of coffee, and sighed dramatically.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to call your Dad with you, sweetheart?” His wife said.
“Yeah. I need to do this on my own. Your focus should be on your contractions, and if anything changes…”
“Go straight to the hospital, and don’t interrupt you.”
“Very funny. I mean it. If anything changes, I want you to come get me. You and our baby, our Daughter, are all that matter today.”
“Yes, sir,” she said with a salute.
She watched him walk into their home office and shut the door. She immediately grabbed her phone and made a call.
“Hey, it’s me… Yes, they started about an hour ago… About 20 minutes apart… No, no, not too painful yet… Listen, he just went in to make the phone call, and I think it would go a long way if you were here when he finished… Yes, a theatrical sigh… Okay, great, see you soon,” she said, hanging up the phone.
She stared at the closed door, hoping it would turn out better than expected.
He sits in his office, staring at the cursor hovering over the New FaceTime button, mentally preparing himself.
“You can do this,” he said to himself, finally clicking the button.
As usual, the call connected after two and a half rings, and his Dad’s face appeared on his screen.
“Hey buddy, how’s your day going?” His Dad said.
“Good, Dad. Really good, actually.”
“That’s what I like to hear. What is making my son’s day so great this morning?”
“Catherine started having contractions about an hour ago. They are still pretty far apart, but it seems like today will be the day I meet my Daughter.”
“Daughter? Daughter? I thought we would have to wait until the baby was born to find out.”
“Me too, Dad,” he said with a smile, “a nurse accidentally let it slip at one of Catherine’s appointments a few weeks ago. She told me this morning.”
“You know, I wanted you to be a girl. I was so sure you were a girl. I bought all sorts of pink clothes and toys and hid them from your mother. It wasn’t until you were a few weeks old that I broke the news to your Mom. The look on her face when I told her I didn’t save the receipts was priceless. Of course, I wouldn’t change a thing now. Being your Dad has been the absolute best part of my life. I am so proud of you, buddy. You’re going to be an amazing father.”
“I learned from the best,” he said, fighting back tears.
“Who? Me? Oh, c’mon, keep going,” his Dad said, beckoning his son to keep the stream of compliments flowing.
“I love you, Dad.”
“I love you too, buddy. What’s wrong? You seem far too sad on such a special day.”
“I just, well, I’ve got to…”
“You’re nervous, aren’t you? It’s okay. I remember the day you were born. I was so sure you were a girl…”
The same story. This had become a more common occurrence and one of the primary reasons that today would be the last day he spoke to his Dad. He read his notes about how to do this properly as his Dad continued his story.
Be direct. Don’t worry about feelings. Irrational lashing out is to be expected.
“… anyway,” his Dad continued, “I know you will be an amazing father. And I am going to be an even better Grandfather. I cannot wait to meet my Grandaughter.”
“That’s the thing, Dad. I have to tell you something.”
“Uh-oh, this doesn’t sound good.”
“You’re not going to meet her,” he said, bracing himself for the reaction.
There was a long pause as his Dad’s face cycled through emotion from devastation to fury. It looked as though all of his facial muscles were working independently of one another, trying to find the rhythm.
“I. Don’t. Understand.”
“Here’s the thing, Dad, you actually…”
“I don’t understand,” his Dad interrupted, his voice filled with anger and hurt, “how my own son. The child I raised… No, the man I raised has the balls to tell me I can’t see my own Grandaughter. Do you know what this is going to do to your mother? Did you ever stop to consider…”
“Dad, Mom is going to be fine. She will come to the hospital first thing after the baby is born.”
“So,” his Dad began, chin quivering, “I don’t get… What did I do?”
“Dad…”
“No,” his Dad interrupted through a sob, “Just tell me what I did. Tell me what I did wrong, and I will fix it. I will do whatever it takes. Please, I am begging you, buddy, don’t do this to me.”
“Dad, I can’t… there isn’t anything,” he tried to get the words out, but the dam had burst, and tears began to stream down his cheeks.
“Hey, buddy, don’t cry. Whatever it is, we will fix it. I’ve got your back. I’m always here for you, no matter what. You know that, right?”
“Of course. I ju- I think I hear Catherine calling for me; I’ll be right back. Just a sec.”
He walked out of the office and right out the front door. When he was on the front step, he took out his phone and dialed.
“AI Love You, how may I assist you today?” A friendly woman answered.
“Hi, this is Daniel Wilson. Will you connect me to Devon Wright, please?”
“Just a moment,” the woman responded, placing the call on hold.
At AI Love You, we believe in love that lasts forever. Losing a loved one can take a toll on your health and well-being, but it doesn’t have to. Stay on the line, and a representative will help you keep that special someone in your life for…
“Hi, this is Devon. How may I assist you today?”
“Hi, Devon, this is Daniel Wilson. I am ready to terminate my membership.”
“Hi, Mr. Wilson, I’m so sorry to hear that. Are you sure there is nothing we can do to keep your bus..”
“Save it. Like I said the last time we spoke, I am done. You took advantage of me when I was most vulnerable, and I have been stuck in this purgatory, pretending a computer program is my Dad for over a year now. I am having a baby, and I must move on with my life,” he said, trying to avoid yelling into his phone, “and now, your fancy program is making me despise my Father.”
“My apologies, Mr. Wilson, but as I explained the last time we spoke, our AI rendering of your Father has limitations. Since you never disowned him in real life, there is no data to predict how he would have reacted,” Devon explained, attempting to sound sympathetic but missing the mark.
“For the last time, I am not disowning my Father. That thing is not my Dad. I want to terminate my membership.”
“I understand. Just bear with me one moment. My system is a little slow today… must be a Monday,” Devon said, keyboard keys clicking in the background, “aaand, just have to make sure… yep, there we go. Alright, Mr. Wilson, when you return to the call, you will now see the END MY RELATIONSHIP button. As a reminder, once you have ended the re…”
“Stop saying I am ending the relationship. Cancer killed my Dad sixteen months ago, so I am not ending the relationship with my Dad. I am terminating my membership with your company.”
“Yes. My apologies. Please remember that once your membership has been terminated, all your supplied data will be permanently deleted. There is no recovery process.”
“I understand,” Daniel said.
“Excellent. Your account is ready to be terminated. I want to thank you for calling AI Love You. If you have the time, I would appreciate it if you would stay on the line to complete a brief surv…”
Daniel ended the call. It took every ounce of self-control not to throw his phone into the street. He took a deep breath and went back inside.
Catherine was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, looking concerned.
“Hey,” he said, moving toward her with his arms open for a hug, “I’m okay. We knew this was going to be complicated. I just need a couple more minutes, then we can focus on finally meeting our baby girl.”
He gave her a kiss and walked back into the office. His Dad’s face remained on his computer screen, blinking every three seconds, expressionless.
“Hey, buddy,” his Dad said happily when Daniel walked into view, “What took you so long?”
“Look, Dad,” Daniel said, “I need you just to listen now, no talking, okay?”
“You got it, buddy. Whoops, this doesn’t count. My lips are zipped.”
“I love you so much. I miss you every day. I hate that my Daughter will never get to meet you and have fun with you the way we did when I was little. When you died, I thought my world ended too. The world turned into this drab place of existence for me, and I was desperate to get you back. Signing up for this thing was a mistake. I see that now. I need to focus all of my attention on Catherine and our Daughter. I can’t keep talking to a ghost in my office. I want to be the Dad to her that you were to me, and losing you taught me not to waste a moment doing anything else other than watching her grow into the wonderful woman she is sure to be,” the cursor was hovering over the END MY RELATIONSHIP button, “I love you so much, Dad.”
“Not as much as I love you, buddy.”
Daniel clicked his mouse, and the call ended. A survey was on the computer screen where his Dad’s face was just moments ago.
On a scale from 1-10, how likely would you be to refer a friend to AI Love You based on your call today?
He clicked ‘1’ and put the monitor to sleep. Rubbing his eyes, he stood up from his desk, ready to meet his Daughter.
He opened the door to see his Mom waiting for him.
“Mom? How did you…”
“Catherine called. She thought it would be a good idea if I came over, “she said, “Don’t worry, I’m not coming to the hospital until the baby is born, but I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
With that, he buried his face into his Mom’s shoulder and finally cried the way he should have sixteen months ago. She pulled him in tight, shushing in his ear and making him feel safe the way only a Mother can. Once he settled down, she pulled away.
“I brought you something,” she said, reaching into her purse and pulling out a flash drive.
“What’s this?” Daniel said, grabbing the flash drive out of her hand.
“As soon as your Father got his diagnosis, he started making videos for you. We would sit in the living room reading or talking, and a thought would hit him. He would drop everything, go to the office, and record a video for you,” his Mom said, a single tear falling down her cheek, “he was so worried you would be sad, so whenever he thought of anything, stories, advice, or even just a joke, he wanted to record it so he could be there for you in case you needed him.”
After a moment to compose herself, she continued.
“I planned to give it to you the day you told me about AI Love You. It was probably a mistake, but I thought it better to let you grieve in your own way. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to get in the way. There are hundreds of videos on there, but there is one that he would want you to watch today,” his Mom said with a knowing smile. They called for Catherine to join them in the office.
Daniel sat in front of the computer and plugged the flash drive in. He opened the folder when it appeared on his screen, and it expanded to dozens of sub-folders for different occasions. “Golf Tips” and “Don’t Do This” were some of the folder names. His Mom pointed at the folder that said: “How to Dad.” He opened the folder to over a hundred videos for parenting milestones and challenges.
“This is the one,” his Mom said, pointing to the first video title, ‘If it’s a Girl.’
He double-clicked the video, and the Quicktime application opened. There was his Dad, his real Dad, sitting in his old office chair with a lit cigar in his mouth.
“Hey, buddy! Sho I her itsh a girl,” he said, the cigar making it hard for him to annunciate. He took it out and placed it in an ashtray as he clicked his tongue, trying to rid his mouth of the taste, “ugh, I’ll never understand why people like these things.”
Daniel looked at his Mom as they both began to laugh.
“Congratulations, buddy. Did you know that I wanted you to be a girl? I was so sure…”
How do you describe fifteen years of marriage?
The universality of love makes it conflicting. On the one hand, it gives you relatable love songs and romantic comedies. On the other hand, it makes every word and gesture you come up with feel cliche. While that fact doesn’t make those sentiments erroneous, it can make them feel empty. Because of this, we leave things unsaid that should always be said.
So, when describing fifteen years of marriage, I suppose you start with the easy stuff.
You lead in with how she is beautiful (if not more so) when she isn’t trying because it is her natural state. Of course, she’ll never believe you, even though you tell her so often that your four-year-old daughter reminds her almost as frequently as you do of how beautiful she is.
You should remember to let her know that when she does try. When she gets her hair just right and puts on the dress, she finally finds, after scouring every store and website in existence, that she is absolutely stunning.
She doesn’t know you see her, always. You could explain your heart still skips a beat watching her from across crowded weddings and parties as she dazzles those she interacts with. Tell her how sometimes it is impossible to focus on what the person you are talking to is saying because, well, she exists, and nothing else seems quite as important as that.
You don’t want to linger on these shallow compliments for too long. Yes, you could write pages about how effortless her beauty truly is. Do your damndest to convince her she is just as beautiful now as she was twenty-four years ago when you first met. She’d love to hear it, but she’ll never admit it because to do so would be vain. It’s best to decide the words you have written in a few short paragraphs are enough and move on.
When you move on, the best change of pace would be to remind her that the only thing more impressive than her beauty is what a pleasure it has been to watch her grow over the course of all the years you have spent together.
You should tell her how anytime you are presented with the question, “Who is your hero?” Your answer is a lie because you never answer “my wife,” even though it is unequivocally true. How could it not be? You’ve had a front-row seat to watch her perform, speak in front of crowds, and accel at every task thrown her way. Meanwhile, you sit by, feeling lazy and inadequate because it seems impossible to live up to the standards she lives by.
Worse, you can’t ask her how or why she does it all because you already know the answer. The answer is simple, it pulls your heart in entirely different directions. It’s simultaneously the best and worst answer possible, and it’s only three letters long: You.
You’ll never tell her you don’t deserve it because you adore how it makes you feel.
And what’s the harm? Her goals are yours, and vice versa if you’re doing marriage right. The best thing you can do is sit in the front row and watch her meet every goal she sets professionally and personally.
You watch her fantastic one-woman show in amazement. It’s like watching the best magician because knowing the “trick” doesn’t matter, as they are much better than everyone else. It’s the performance, the art of it all. Seeing how she juggles work, volunteering, networking, and school makes it seem her days have 30 hours to your 24. And don’t blink because when you do, there will be something new she takes on, and she’ll never mention it.
As if all of those things weren’t enough, time and again, she proves herself as the best mother to her children.
One day, at your son’s soccer game, another mother will comment that your son doesn’t seem to run out of energy. You’ll mindlessly respond, “I don’t know where he gets it,” as the realization hits you in the chest like a sledgehammer. It’s been in front of you all these years.
He gets it from her. Both of your children get it from her. All of their most beautiful qualities come from her. You could cry right there in the middle of a bunch of kids running for snacks after playing soccer because you are so thankful for her existence and everything she does for your family.
You spend a lot of time thinking about death and wondering what comes after our time on this planet. You do this because she has enriched your life so much that you never want it to end. You spend sleepless nights deciding whether you hope she dies first or you die first.
Before the anxiety gets so bad you worry your heart will stop, you realize what happens after your inevitable death doesn’t matter; even if it all ended today (which it could), she has made your life complete.
You resolve to focus on all of the little things she does daily.
When she smiles that smile, the one you know is just for you.
When she looks at you that way. The look that reminds you how you are just as important to her as she is to you.
The way she snorts and laughs when you tell the same old stupid joke. You know, when one of your kids points something out, and she says, “Good eye!” and you shout from the next room, “Good eye to you, mate!”
And when she comes to you with tears in her eyes this morning because she just backed into your car (again), you take a deep breath and fight the urge to get mad. Because even if she backed into your car every day, it would be worth it.
It’s worth it because the only certainty you have in this life is that a life without her is not a life you’re interested in living. All you can do is be thankful every day you wake up to her there with you. Remind yourself how lucky you are to have the privilege to share your life with her. Because no matter what happens, everything seems possible with her around.
Lastly, you should tell her you would change nothing about the past 15 years and that when you say, “Happy anniversary,” you mean thank you.
Thank you for being my best friend.
Thank you for being my partner.
Thank you for being my wife.
Thank you for putting up with me when I am an asshole.
Thank you for being a fantastic mother.
Thank you for being a badass woman for our daughter to look up to.
Thank you for working so hard.
Or, you could just run to Target and buy her a card that says “Happy 15th Wedding Anniversary”.
Cheers.
Before the 2012 season, I wrote Why I Go(pher). The Gopher football team would finish that season 6-7. And under that coaching staff and administration, it never felt like they would be more than a middle-of-the-road Big Ten team.
Yesterday, 7 years later, we turned the corner I wrote about. And as I predicted, I was there.
At the time that I wrote those words, I had no clue that I would have a 3-year-old son and a 9-month-old daughter sitting next to me. Long gone are the days of drinking as much as I want because I had nothing to do on Sunday.
Our Gopher gamedays are decidedly different. In this special edition of TimTalks, I am going to hand the mic over to my lovely wife to give you a gameday-in-the-life as the wife of a Gopher fan:
It’s 5:30 am on a Saturday. Warm in my bed, I’m awakened by my husband’s alarm. I keep my eyes closed for a few minutes, considering trying to catch a little more sleep. I decide against it. Time to move. My husband looks up, surprised, as I walk into the bathroom. “I understand. I know this is the biggest game in decades. I’m up.”
Two hours later the car is packed, the kids are dressed, the baby’s been fed, and we are ready to go.
For the first time in years, I have convinced my husband we don’t need to make it in time for the open of the tailgate lots. Lots open six hours before game time or 7:00 am for an 11:00 game. On our drive in, at 7:45, we hear from my brother who has beaten us there. I can tell instantly my husband is disappointed at our late arrival. We pull up at 8:07 am. Three hours until game time. Our shortest tailgate of the season.
Growing up with three brothers, I spent my fair share of time at football games. However, I was more interested in talking with my friends than staying up to speed on the play by play. My first Gopher football game, in 2001, my future husband and I sat in the Metrodome as he tried to explain the basics of the game. I listened, not realizing as a 16-year-old girl that this would become a staple of my life.
Gopher football as a college student and twenty-something without children was A LOT of fun. I loved the social aspect. The chants, the traditions, and the beers. I cheered loud for the big plays but didn’t lose sleep over a bad game. But it got a lot tougher with one and now two kids. And I’ll admit, some days I get a bit salty.
Making it to a tailgate lot at 8:30 am with a three-year-old and an infant requires a lot of work. Arriving home a solid twelve hours later makes for some tired kids, and parents too. And some days I just wondered, could we maybe go at 9:30, or 10:00? Is it absolutely pivotal to the success of the team that we arrive for six full hours of tailgating? And the answer is, yes.
Yes, it does matter. Because it matters to my favorite human on this earth. It matters to him to show up for his team, week after week, some years loss after loss. And this moment, this day, was to date, the most important day in his lifelong journey as a Gopher fan. My husband has never missed a game in TCF Bank Stadium. His three-year-old son and 9-month-old daughter haven’t missed a home game in their lives. He’s been there for the electrifying wins and the heartbreaking losses. He always shows up.
So I show up. I nurse a baby in the sleet under a Gopher blanket to watch the team beat Nebraska. I stand in the pouring rain in Evanston to see the team suffer a truly unwatchable defeat by Northwestern. I’ve never been to Hawaii or Palm Springs, but I’ve been to Ohio State and Maryland.
But some days, like this beautiful November morning, I sit in the sunshine holding a sleeping baby, my hooligan three-year-old being a perfect angel, and watch the Gophers lead a top-five ranked Penn State team through not one, two, or three, but four full quarters of play to maintain their perfect season.
We lovingly refer to my husband as “Timmy Baby Pants.” It’s a lot of fun. On cue, Baby Pants shed a tear in the stands as “The Lion Sleeps Tonight” played and fans rushed the field. Honestly, I shed a tear too. I’m so grateful for the husband and father that he is. And seeing the joy on his face while he hugged our three-year-old in the final minutes of the game, I’ll get up at 5:30 on a Saturday for that. I’ll stand in the snow and the rain to see those smiles on my two favorite boys’ faces.
And I know it’s only going to get easier, and better, as my kids grow up. I can already see the excitement and joy on my son’s face when he talks about “Minnesota.”
We are laying the foundation for a lifetime of tradition.
I’m a big Fleck fan. I love his energy and enthusiasm, and he’s easy on the eyes. Some people roll their eyes at the catch phrases and mantras, but I love them.
FAMILY. Forget About Me, I Love You.
It perfectly encompasses my Gopher experience. I love the energy and the party and the celebrations, sure. But I can’t tell you the score or even who we played in the opening game of the 2018 season. What I can tell you is what the face of a father looks like when his 2-year-old son walks into the stadium for a new season, looks out over the field with eyes full of wonderment, and unprovoked exclaims “row the boat.”
I can tell you about the pride on a first-time father’s face as he walks into the stadium with his son strapped to his chest for his son’s first game.
I can tell you about the sparkle in a father’s eye as he watches his wife unwrap his daughter’s first pink Gopher shirt.
I can tell you what a father and son sing on Fridays before gameday. (Les Mis – “One Day More”)
I can tell you about the grin on a toddler’s face as he signals for another “Golden Gopher First Down!”
I can tell you how a tailgate lot full of strangers become friends (it takes a village.)
At the end of the game, win or lose, I can tell you about my husband and the amazing bond that he will forever share with our children over this team called the Gophers.
It’s why I Go(pher).
Two decades.
Twenty years.
7,300 days. 175,200 hours. 10,512,000 minutes.
Time is great at playing this terrible trick on us. When you start counting minutes in the tens of millions, time seems to drag.
When you count it in decades, saying “time flies” seems like a comical understatement.
After two children, it feels like time is an icy mountain face that I am sliding down making futile attempts to slow myself.
Looking back up the mountain, shrinking in the distance is me awkwardly asking my wife to “go out” with me and her saying yes, not knowing that she was grabbing my hand and jumping off the side of the mountain with me.
We have been through it all. Junior high, high school, college, our 20’s, two kids, and half of our thirties.
What the hell happened?
Just yesterday we were sneaking kisses in the hallway and talking on the phone until one of us fell asleep. We woke up married in a house with two kids that we are scrambling to get ready for daycare.
The most brutal truth that I have come to know in this life is that the days are long and the years are short.
My birthday has become so important to me over these two decades. Today it reached a pinnacle when I heard my 3-year-old run into the bedroom, climb into bed, and burrow into me as though it was impossible for him to get close enough to me.
“Daddy, I had a bad dream…”
My gorgeous wife got up and made me a cinnamon roll and orange juice that I shared with my son at the counter.
I walked into the nursery to find my 8-month-old girl standing and smiling at me.
I felt a strong pang in my chest.
Long gone are the days of wondering what I will get for my birthday, today I realized that all I need to do is open my eyes.
I’m going to do my best to keep them open because I know the next time I blink another two decades will have passed me by.
Happy birthday to me but, more importantly, thank you to my wife for jumping off the mountain with me October 8, 1999 at 8:05 AM.
Cheers.
They sat on a bench on the bike path overlooking the river. The late afternoon sun lazily making its descent to the horizon. The leaves rustling in the late fall breeze.
In days past they would have sat holding hands, or at least making some sort of physical contact. Lately, they didn’t mind the space. As a matter of fact, they felt more comfortable with a bit of separation.
They looked at each other at the same time and knew that they were both thinking the same depressing thought. They sighed.
She broke the silence first, as usual.
“How did we get here?”
“Seriously? We parked the car at the park, then followed the path to the bench” he said.
Another one of his ill-timed jokes that she used to find adorable, but now she found irritating.
“Sorry, I just don’t know how you want me to answer that.”
“I want you to be honest. I want you to tell me how you feel. Why do I always have to drag things out of you?” Continue reading
They call it the “seven-year itch.”
The idea that after seven years of marriage the happiness of the relationship begins to decline.
This is an interesting concept, but obviously there is not a timer that starts when you get married or start dating someone.
So what is it? What causes people to lose the spark that they once had?
Simple, as humans we analyze and process what is in front of us. Most of the time when we see other couples, we are seeing them with their best couple hats on. They are friendly to each other, maybe even affectionate. They sit next to each other. They hold hands. They hug. They kiss. They laugh. They love. What we are seeing is happiness and harmony.
This is our framing of other couples. The information that the brain is processing on other relationships is largely positive.
This is where we have to be careful.
It is a shame that we aren’t given an instruction manual on how to use the thing that rattles around in our skull, because it would sure be helpful.
We need to remind our brains, periodically, that what we are seeing of other couples is about 5% of the real story. That is not to say that we should assume that when other couples are on their own that they are unhappy, rather, we need to simply remind our brain that we are not getting all of the information.
They fight. They hurt. They cry.
It is the same reason that movies can be so effective. We see perfect couples and happy endings on the big screen and it is no wonder that our brains are searching for that exact thing, because we know it will bring us pleasure and happiness. We can all have that thing, we just need to understand that nobody’s relationship is happy at all times.
We are constantly processing the sensory information that is put before us and when we are all exposed to everybody’s best, we start to try to figure out why we fight and argue so much in our own relationship. Or, why our significant other made us sad or hurt and, suddenly, we are thinking that our relationship is inferior and that we need to move on find that the perfect thing we see everywhere else in the world. And since we have spent so much time with our partner, we must need a new one.
It is the same reason that slot machines are profitable. Our brains are always subconsciously trying to solve problems in front of us.
The problem?
Well, as we know, slot machines are random but when we win our brain makes the association that we have done something to achieve the reward and wants to duplicate it. First step? Insert another coin.
What does this have to do with relationships?
Your brain is going to seek out the perfect relationship that you see everywhere else. But, there is no such thing as a perfect relationship, at least in a universal sense. What you need to remind your brain of, is that you are searching for your own perfect. Your perfect is not the same as anybody else’s perfect, which, makes it more perfect.
It’s an original perfect. It is beautiful and you should embrace your perfect. And, you will only know when you know it. Do not let anyone tell you what your perfect should look and feel like. Tell your brain that you are going to design your own perfect and let other people have their perfect.
This weekend, my wife and I celebrate our 7th wedding anniversary. I adore everything about her. But, despite what you may see when we are in public…
We fight. We cry. We hurt. We laugh. We love.
All by ourselves, with nobody else to see.
And as I look back over the 7 years of our marriage I realize something great…
We have found our perfect. And it is just… well… perfect.
Cheers.
