June 23, 2008

Another "Parent of the Year" Moment

Have you ever thought to yourself:

1) This is not how I want my child to act in public, and

2) Maybe he's getting mixed messages when I tell him to stop from behind the camera?

For me, this was one of those moments.

June 8, 2008

Lies, Lies, Lies

If you know my husband fairly well, then you are well aware that I have been stalking you for the past 6 months. In January, I began shaping my thoughts: what to say and how to say it. In February, I sent you the first email. The first of many, many, many emails. I begged and pleaded with you to send me something, anything, about my husband's younger days. I compiled all of these entries and created a 100 page book and an hour long video; my goal: sum up Marc's 30 years on this planet. And, if you know my husband fairly well, then you are well aware that this is no light task.

I believe I emailed about 500 people. I never officially counted, however the list of email addresses filled 6 pages in Word... so I estimated. To compile these memories, I emailed everyone in Marc's inbox - it was the ultimate in Bohnspam (I did learn from the master, after all). It was quite an adventure: the secret email account, the phone calls, and having to obsessively cover my tracks. After quite a bit of nagging, I received a tremendous response and found myself swimming in memories. Actually, drowning is more like it. I was in over my head.

For the past 5 weeks, I have devoted every spare (and not so spare) second to this project. To say the least, my domestic, wifely, and motherly responsibilities have suffered greatly. My dog has gained weight, my husband has been forced to wear dirty underwear more than once, and I fear my son's attention span has been shortened from all the cartoons I let him watch (even if they were in German). And on top of all this: a thick, woolly blanket of Lies, Lies, Lies. ("Oh, we didn't do much today, hun.. we just went to playgroup and hung out for a couple hours." or "I had to babysit the neighbor's kid all day - it was crazy!" or "I had the worst cramps, I couldn't do anything but sit on my butt.")

I actually have one of those uncommon husbands that asks how my day went, so my defense is that he pressured me into it. However, I knew that if I just picked one or two events to discuss in the evening, I wouldn't be asked to detail the entire day. I soon started making quick jaunts to CVS seem like they took hours. Little did Marc know that I never kicked my rear in gear until I saw him sign out of Google Talk - then I knew I had half an hour to clean, start dinner and move things around (laundry/papers) as though I had actually been productive. Oh, and then make up stories about my daily activities.

I was a bit of a basket case, people. My insides (psychologically and physically) were knotted up for weeks, but the hardest part was concealing all of my stress from Marc. I was smiling my way through hypertension and hair loss. It was worth it, though, and as I wrote in the forward to his book:
"Now that my mission is accomplished, I'm entirely resolved on two things:

1) I could never be a double agent. Leading a double life is absolutely miserable, and
2) I'm married to the most wonderful man in the world. . ."

The project turned out amazing, and each story and picture I surfed through gave me a deeper understanding of Marc and the experiences that shaped him. And when I finally presented the masterpiece, he was blown away. He loved it, and I was even able to throw him a little surprise party/movie screening (even though I got lazy in the end and he sensed something was up). He was also pretty surprised that I was able to find the doll he had as a boy that his parents threw away, "Penny" - a 40-year old antique that I've already had to give stitches to twice. (She's still wet in the picture from her 10 hour Oxy Clean bath.)

SUCCESS! All my hard work paid off, as well as the mountains of help from countless others. (Especially of note are Marc's parents and my wonderful friend, Maryanne, who sacrificed two weeks of her life to work on my video!) Thank you everyone, and I promise not to stalk you again for at least another 30 years!

Happy Birthday, Marc, you old man! Ich liebe dich!!

And that's the story of why my blog has sucked lately. As a special treat, here are some pictures of Erich at his Papa's party. We stripped off his chocolate cake smeared shirt and he decided to wear this ribbon all day instead (of his own volition). This makes me think I shouldn't watch so much Bravo around him (you know, the channel that women love because it's focus group is gay men)...