This is part of our new monthly tradition of date night with the kids. I felt like I wasn’t getting enough alone time with the kids, so I added date night to our fall goals. The last Friday of every month, we will be engaged with the kids. Tonight, it’s girls’ night/man night. Next month, we’ll swap. And on it will go.

I figure that Griff’s getting older and is getting to the point where he’s going to want to talk with us less and less and the more opportunities we give him to talk to us, the better. And the closer we all get to one another, the better.

Monday - Today’s the first day of school for both kids, so we have to celebrate today. So cinnamon waffles and turkey bacon it is.

Tuesday - baked zucchini … I got the recipe from The Recipe Mission who lifted it from Boston.com. I may swap out the ground meat with Boca crumbles. Shhh… don’t tell.

Wednesday - turkey burgers & fruit salad … We’re going to try the children’s and youth programs at the church we’re visiting & they start on Wednesday night. We’ll have to do a quick and easy dinner.

Thursday - spaghetti with Ninja sauce

Friday - Our first Monthly Date Night. We’ll eat out.

Saturday - Come on… it’s Saturday. There is no menu for Saturday.

Why is it I have people in my life who bring mostly negative energy and yet I tolerate it because they are blood relatives? What makes blood more important than anything else?

I got a letter from my father on our anniversary (last Friday… 16 years… yay, us!) telling us that he felt led by God to remind us that our marriage was in danger if we didn’t join a church. That we weren’t being good parents because we weren’t taking the kids to church, that we were putting other things in ahead of church.

Now, I’m not usually one to respond. I’m aware that my dad enjoys debating and drawing people … me and my brother, my grandmother, specifically … into debates with him that he won’t discuss fairly or allow anyone to leave in a reasonable manner. When I was in my teens and early 20s, I didn’t see how he handled things, how he manipulated us into these destructive interactions, but once I moved out and was on my own, I was able to see that not everyone interacted in that manner. And I was able to begin to establish my own way of handling things.

Mike and I married when we were both in our early 20s, and we built this lovely way of interacting that is open and honest and has none of the trappings that I had/have in my relationship with my parents. And now that I know that I don’t respond well to that sort of relationship, I just don’t bite when he tries to engage me.

But that letter… on my anniversary.

I sent what I thought was a calm and reasonable emailed response. I told them that our marriage is on really solid footing and that we’re quite happy together. I told him that we’re aware that the world is touching our children, as he stated, but that we believe that it’s our responsibility to nurture their spiritual foundation, not the church’s.

I told him that he was completely right, that we did feel that church wasn’t more important than other things. We feel that each individual’s personal relationship with Christ is more important than all other things. Church is an extension of that. As it turns out, we had already chosen a church earlier this summer, but I hadn’t told them (as with most things).

Within hours, I got a response from him that was highlighted by my father’s use of multiple Scriptures. Now, my parents are the most God-fearing individuals with the most in-depth knowledge of Scripture I can imagine. I am in awe of their knowledge. That said, they have both on occasion used both Scripture and their knowledge of it a weapon. He mentioned that it is his responsibility as a father and grandfather to rebuke us when he sees us sinning.

Well, lovely. I haven’t responded to that one.

Now, again. These are dear, sweet, Christian people. Which is what makes me feel so conflicted about all of this. I hate that they offer unsolicited advice, rebuking. I wish they would keep it to themselves. Their visits, their cards with the advice, their letters and calls… they cause more stress within our marriage than provide help.

And yet, on the rare occasion that I stand up for myself and suggest that they need to give us some space or defend our choices, they respond so vehemently that it hardly seems worth the effort. It is draining. To date, they haven’t said anything too harsh to either of my kids. They’ve said things about my kids to me, but not to the kids. The day that happens is the day all bets are off. I’ll put up with a lot myself, but I won’t put up with anything regarding my kids.

And yet, what’s up with that? Seriously. What does that say about me? I’m willing to stand up for my kids but not for myself. I’m not sure what it says, but I know it’s true.

And I know that the experience reminds me of several things…

I am safest with completely superficial topics with my parents. I remember why I gave up on the hope of having a meaningful relationship with them years ago. I remember why I work so hard to foster important, meaningful relationships with Christian friends.

I am so grateful that I have a clear vision of the type of relationship I want to have with my children both now and as they grow older.

And I am deeply thankful to have been able to be a part of various families through my life who have built really exceptional relationships with their children and their children’s children and who have provided me with superb examples to follow.

And I am blessed to be friends with both my brother and my brother’s wife, and I count it a deep blessing to be able to discuss these things with them. Neither of my parents are on speaking terms with any of their siblings, and I think they are missing something so wonderful. I am so terribly grateful to not miss that.

Mike and I have always been easy. Things between us just flow. We have had difficult times… times when the world around us was difficult, when situations were difficult, when this or that wasn’t easy. But rarely have we had times when things between us weren’t easy. But this last year was pretty much one long exercise in not easy between us.

As I approached my 40th birthday, I had to do some looking at myself and my life, and I was unsettled for a time. In the midst of that, I had a man hit on me & I was flattered, I admit. And then for a period last year, Mike didn’t so much groove to me for reasons of his own. As I talked to my girlfriends about what I was going through, I was surprised (but reassured) to discover how many women in my age range were struggling with similar issues.

Choices we made 10, 15, 20 years ago that seemed reasonable at the time seemed to have snowballed into something unmanageable now. Sure, hon, I’ll take a job doing something I don’t love so you can pursue your passion but once you’re all established, I’ll switch to something more suited to me. You go get your degree & I’ll put you through school with the understanding that once you’re done, it’ll be my turn. Little sacrifices that made sense, that were supposed to be just the beginning in a tit for tat situation somehow turned into a lifetime of something else. Tit never turned into tat. Old habits turned into lifestyles. And too often, we looked up and wondered if we made the right choices.

But, blessedly, with some work, we ended the year as we began it… happily together. Last weekend, as I got a pedicure, the nail tech laughed after I told a story (because I will tell a story!) and said, “You’ve lived. I can tell in your laugh. You laugh so you don’t cry, to keep things together.” I thought that was the best compliment. Because we have lived, and we are laughing. And in some ways, I’m grateful for this last year, hard though it was, because it reaffirmed for me that this is exactly where I want to be. Even when it’s challenging, I want to be with Mike.

To be walking this path with him, to figure out this life as we go along… seems like a pretty good deal to me.

And he was kind enough to put me on medication that’s helped ease the dizziness (except when it hasn’t). But he put me on this horrid sleepy med, and I feel like I’m gliding through my summer in a fog. I’m on the meds for three months, and I’m so hoping they clear this up permanently, but I’m frustrated and a little skeptical at this point.

I hate always feeling off balance, skimming the walls next to me with my fingertips so that I’m always in contact with something hoping not to fall down (like I did in the parking lot at work last week). I hate having to need other people so much, though I know that’s something I need to work on..

I had gotten to a point in my life where I was feeling so strong, so … good, in general. And then, all of a sudden, I was hit with this, and while it seems like such a little thing, I am frustrated by how strongly it has affected me. I went from running and feeling empowered by how well I was doing with the Couch to 5k program to barely staying awake until Eliza goes to bed. When I told Mike I wanted to start again, he said I had to prove that I could walk the block without falling before I could start running again.

I want the meds to work, and I want them to work just right now. I’m not very good at waiting. And the meds make me tired on top of the fatigue from the dizziness. And it’s summer. And I want to come home and play. But I’m not quite there yet. Mike said to me the other day that I was a little wobbly, like a Weeble. Except, of course, that the Weebles never fell down.

We’re starting to work on eating a bit healthier, on utilizing the fresh fruits and veggies from the stand near the house, so I’m going to try to stop by the stand every day or so and pick up enough for a couple of days so that we’re sure to be eating the freshest ingredients possible.

Last night, we had grilled chicken pasta salad, an all-time favorite of Mike and me. He and the kids will have it again tonight while I’m at my cake decorating class. Grilled chicken, crazy colored veggie pasta and loads of fresh grilled veggies.

Tuesday - summer rolls (recipe from this month’s “Everyday Food”)

Wednesday - pork chops with lemon couscous

Thursday - Griff’s birthday… He’s requested to go to Smokey Bones, so we’ll be eating some BBQ.

Friday - grilled margarita pizzas … fresh Roma tomatoes, mozza, and basil

With the grilled chicken from Sunday, I’ll make a fresh chicken salad for Mike and the kids to make chicken wraps for lunch this week. I’m thinking of challenging the kids to see who can eat the most fruits and veggies per day to increase our daily intake (which is currently hovering in the pitiful range). I just need to determine a good reward for the winner.

The two of us met when we were barely older than Griff. She was in seventh grade (which he will enter next fall), and I was in eighth. We were in PE, and we were walking around an endless track. Our walking speeds matched, and we began to talk. We haven’t much stopped since. We’ve been together through psycho boyfriends (mine), heartbreaks, laughter, tears, family crazies, husbands, children, jobs, moves, loves and loss. And we’ve already planned where to go for our 50th birthdays.

We rode the trolley tour, and we walked the river walk, and we listened to the bands play outside the restaurant in the cool air. I freaked out my son when he read on Facebook that I was having dinner and drinks (it’s good for him to realize I’m a real person and not just a mom).

But mostly, we laughed. And I remembered how really amazing it is to be with someone who knows me. I am astounded at how effortless it was for us to be together. She and I haven’t seen each other since before we moved to Florida… four years or so. And we haven’t lived in the same town in 20 years… the same state in well, 15 or so (my math is bad). But the time we spent together flowed easily. I missed her as soon as we turned to head for our separate flights in Atlanta.

God has blessed me through the years with a steady stream of perfectly lovely friends to carry me through each phase of my life. Moreover, He has blessed me with a small handful of people who are traveling the length and breadth of this life with me. This particular friend is one of those.

So I took a picture. Just a random picture. And because I think the project involves posting it somewhere, I posted it to Twitter. I’ll post some here as well. The point for me is to see if I can take a photo every single day for the next year… to document our lives with one quick snapshot every day. I can hardly wait to see where each picture leads us.

We’re taking them all to see Shrek (painting everyone’s fingernails with the groovy OPI Shrek colors) and then I’m going to sign up for a cake decorating class with a friend. I’m thinking later we’ll have another round of the card game, this time with the slushy punch I made (thanks to Mika & her mama for the incredible recipe that I told Eliza I’ve been making since before she was born… before Griff… before I met MIke).

Tomorrow, while Mike takes the cousins home, I’m going to watch a friend’s bellydance recital. A big, fun weekend. I do love having a house full of people. I’d have the kids come visit more if I could work it with everyone’s schedules.