Beauty on the Backroads

Stories of grace for life's unexpected turns

husbands and wives

Authority and the inner drill sergeant

Day 7. After a morning of garage sale shopping where we scored a play kitchen, a foot-propelled toy car, a couple of bags of clothes and a steal-of-a-deal on the cutest little girl kilt and cape I’ve ever seen, let’s just say the 2-year-old was not the sweetest little girl on the block.

She has started to give me this scrunchy nose, snickery, whiny type of look that her father sometimes uses to indicate he’s joking about something and I’m taking him too seriously. Hers is pure whine and it’s most often seen when she’s not getting her way and thinks she should be. In the world of a 2-year-old, that seems to be all the time.

I’m having to practice my lower-tone-I’m-serious voice — the one the Supernanny is always telling parents to use to demonstrate authority. I’m working on it.

Of the two of us, I’m definitely the softer one when it comes to discipline, authority and correction. If I’m tired, or the baby needs me, or I don’t think it’s going to be a big deal, I let Isabelle get away with just about anything. My husband, while not a strict disciplinarian either, by his very presence commands more obedience and respect. He also has a drill-sergeant voice. Thank you, U.S. Army.

Right now, I feel like I have to be the strict one because if not me, then who? The grandparents? Not likely. Why is it grandparents let their grandkids get away with all kinds of stuff their kids never could have?

So, I’m learning to say, “No.” And stick to my guns. Even if it means hearing more whining, seeing more of the Scrunch, as I think I’ll call it, and accepting that Isabelle is going to run to someone else to see if she can get a second opinion.

She’ll thank me for this, later, right?

Togetherness

Day 6. Most weeks, Fridays are family days. Phil’s done with classes for the week and has fewer obligations during the day, so to “celebrate” another week passed, we tend to spend the day together until he has to go to work that night.

Today, the kids and I spent the day together but mostly indoors because I’m still not 100 percent over this flu bug, whatever it is. My MIL did come to the rescue, though, for part of the morning, and took Isabelle outside to play while it was still nice.

I know a week isn’t a long time, and we’ve been sick for most of the week, but I feel like my husband is missing out. With his school and work schedule, he’s able to be around the kids often during the day, so he sees a lot of their everyday behavior and changes. I feel like we’re making memories without him, even if we’re not doing anything monumental.

A few days ago, I walked through Amboy, the town where much of our courtship took place, and even though it’s been more than three years, the memories of those days came flooding back. I remembered walks we’d taken together, and trips to the pharmacy to have a Green River float from the soda fountain there. It was like no time had passed at all.

I have great memories of our dating years, but in the midst of our present life, they’ve slipped to the back, only to be brought to the front by a return to the scene. In the coming weeks, the kids and I are going to have lots of experiences my husband won’t be able to share with us, and although I know this is the way life has to be right now, I’m not exactly happy about it.

My husband spent a year in Iraq, before we were married, and I felt like my life was on hold. I tried to do more than just work and sleep, but at times I felt guilty for doing things without him. I didn’t eat out much or see many movies. I do not envy the families who have to endure this day in, day out, for a year or more.

So, I will count my blessings and try not to feel guilty if we have fun without him. And I’ll pray for many, many memories to come.