Recently we came across an article that launched a conversation for us. This post on Huffington Post explained why the author was choosing her kids over her husband. Really? We felt like we have read this argument before. Whether the mom chooses her kids or her husband or the dog or even her best friend, unless she is choosing a deserted tropical island, we call foul on any choosing at all. In our experience, the game of who do you love more is a game that nobody wins, and thus, another podcast was born.
Check out our latest podcast with these highlights:
We absolutely loved reading all the different places people met “The One.” In movie terms, these are the “meet cute” scenes where the romantic leads lock eyes for the first time in an adorable, entertaining, or amusing way.
Our readers shared “meet cute” settings ranging from church, the library, and high school to Arby’s, the Pentagon, and even, one of our favorites, adjoining driveways. Apparently love blossoms anywhere. You all were so generous with your stories, we felt like we should be equally magnanimous with ours. Here are our “meet cute” scenes that led to twenty-plus years (and counting!) of true love. Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan have nothing on us.
And as a special bonus, our husbands are chiming in with their two cents (and corrections). They do help to keep us sensible and honest.
Erin: In August before my senior year, I came back to school early because I was going to be a resident assistant. For a full week before classes began, I hung out with a group of great people who would also be working in the residence halls.
One day between sessions, I was hanging out on a grassy knoll with some of my new friends and someone commented on my shiny new shoes. We had all been together for a week, so I guess conversation was running a little thin. In any case, I felt it was the perfect time to see if anybody wanted to be my new running buddy. Steve piped up right away. Apparently, he had new shoes too and wouldn’t mind waking up at the ass crack o’ dawn to run with me. He didn’t look like a serial killer or a date rapist, so I said sure. It took us a full two months of running for me to figure out that a) he didn’t really have new shoes, b) he had never really run before, and c) he liked me. The rest is history.
Steve: Cute story, but that’s not really when we met. This is just when you remember meeting me. I actually met you a whole year before at a party of a mutual friend.
It was the night of the Christmas Dance. I was majorly interested in one of the girls I had met through some Student Life activities. I even worked up the courage to ask her if she wanted to go to the dance. Though I didn’t see it at the time, she politely told me “no” by suggesting that I meet up with a bunch of friends who were going to the dance together. Several days later, but still excited, I arrived at the meeting place apartment to find it mostly empty, but with people straggling in. Introductions were being made. “Oh, hey, I’m Erin,” was the basis and full extent of our first and apparently unmemorable first meeting.
I would also like to clarify some things from Erin’s “memory.” For the record, I did have new shoes. And while I hadn’t run regularly since high school, I had wanted to start jogging. Also, Erin never specified that we would be running so early in the morning. Finally, I didn’t know that I liked her at the time. It wasn’t until one morning jog when Erin stumbled that I realized I felt differently. As she fell, she blurted out, “Don’t leave me!” to which I realized I never would.
Ellen: Oh Sweet Cheezits! If Erin’s memory is, shall we say “extrapolated,” on something this life-altering, I have no hope.
Anyway, my “How I Met Your Father” story began in early September before classes started my junior year at the University of Maryland. But I was not there for a pursuit as noble as becoming an R.A., I was there to fight . . . for my right . . . to parrrr-tay. If you read that to the beat of The Beastie Boys, you are my people.
I was in a sorority and the week before school started was a wild time in the Greek system—all of the socializing, none of the interference from pesky things like classes. We’re talking partying so intense it should be an Olympic sport. My sisters and I primped and polished and headed out on the scene around 4:00 pm. By 2:00 am, our shine was dulled, to put it kindly.
I was sober amongst the tipsy and more than a little frustrated I hadn’t connected with my formal date from last spring. To up the annoyance factor, I was marooned on a fraternity house lawn waiting for my friend. She was incoherently babbling to some guy about how much she “lerrrvvved” his roommate. I wasn’t going to leave her, but I was too irritated to stand within earshot. My goodness, I just wanted to go home.
So there I stood in the middle of the revelry, as bristly as a school marm during a lice outbreak– metaphorically tapping my foot and actually scowling—when this cutie in a pink Monkees t-shirt approached me. Despite his appeal, I wanted no part of what he was laying down, but he forged on through my eye rolling and something “clicked.” In fact, we connected so well that when my old friend from high school sauntered by, she was fooled into thinking we had known each other for ages instead of minutes.
The minutes of banter stretched into hours of talking that night and when he showed up to my sorority rush practice the next day, he “clicked” the lock on my heart and stole the key forever.
Frank: First of all, the Monkees shirt was an award-winning Greek Week garment and secondly it wasn’t even mine. It was about the third or fourth shirt of the night due to the excessive amount of beverage spillage occurring at my fraternity’s crush party. By 2 am, it was the only dry piece of clothing in my room.
With my alluring shirt choice locked in, I scanned the crowd for a promising companion, and spotted a very attractive girl by herself on the sidewalk in front of my fraternity house. Little did I know I was strolling down the steps to approach my future bride. I cannot remember exactly what I said, but it did incur the wrathful and infamous Ellen Scowl. I knew what I was getting into from the start.
Of course I did not let that stop me; I had gotten far worse reactions from the opposite sex before. As Ellen said, we did hit it off quickly, but it got a whole lot more challenging when a local law enforcement officer interrupted us (and our party!!) and told me, “Why don’t you just take the young lady home?” This guy was killing me! I replied to Officer Smooth Talker, “I think the young lady might have something to say about that, sir.” Ellen deigned to give me her number and the rest is history.
Ellen: So if we were to marry where we met, I would have a gorgeous Georgian style mansion in the background, but my altar would be made out of empties and my guests would be seated on ratty plaid couches.
Erin: And I would be married–in running shoes, of course–on a grassy knoll nestled between three residence halls, because even if we did meet at a party the year before, our story didn’t really start until we met again.
In fact, our college has a beautiful chapel which we probably should have considered for the big day, but, ladies, for the record, don’t ever bring up something like that after the proverbial ship has sailed. That’s the kind of stuff that happily married people fight about. Just sayin’.
It seems like a good time for a refresher on Mom Guilt . . .
If a mother’s love can stretch to the moon and back, then her guilt zooms to Andromeda, twists itself into an origami sippy cup, snaps back to earth and smothers her like a smelly lovey blanket. Well, today is the day The Sisterhood is kicking that odiferous guilt quilt to the curb.
We all know THAT woman. The chick who spends an entire girls’ night out wringing her hands because she “should be home with her Baaaaay-by”. If you don’t know this woman you are either (A) Lucky or (B) THAT woman. But, honey, we are here for you! Repeat after us: “I need to recharge and work on my adult relationships. I am not a robot or a slave and, goshdarnit, other people besides my kids deserve my attention, including me.”
Time to start honoring, dare we even say relishing, the time we get to rejuvenate ourselves and our relationships or else we are just wasting everyone’s time.
Need some hardcore convincing? May we present . . .
1. Nobody wants to parent the center of the universe.
Conveying to your child day in and day out that she is the center of the world leaves a barren place for humility and empathy to take root. And think about how it feels for your kid when all of your focus is on him or her. Holy Anxiety! We all have great expectations for our kids, but sometimes our micromanaging can become stifling. A little time apart shows your child there are other things in your world. Just remember, you’re modeling how to be a happy and successful adult, too . . . but no pressure.
2. If you let the kids take over, it’s gonna get ugly—for both of you.
Kids are need monsters who desire nothing less than complete domination of that kingdom we call home. But let’s get a little perspective—are you really going to let a little Napoleon prevent you from having some time alone? He just pooped his pants an hour ago, should he really be calling the shots? And besides, having that much power can be frightening. It is a little disconcerting to be able to prevent mom from going out the door by throwing a batcrap crazy tantrum. Boundaries are not punishments, they are an integral part of parental love.
3. You need to love your partner more than your kids.
Boom. We said it. You heard it. But really listen to what we’re laying down. Kids can’t take you dancing or give you a lovely night out or uncork the wine bottle. And they should never be your emotional bedrock. Your partner staked a vested interest in your happiness and well-being before you started this family. Offering some return on that investment will only pay dividends in happiness and emotional well-being for the whole clan.
4. Your friends need attention too.
We all get by with more than just a little help from our friends. We aren’t just talking about carpools either. Good friends are like water and air and Sour Patch Kids (or is that just us?). Acknowledging and honoring how essential these relationships are now means that your girls will still be there for you later. Like when you need help hiding a body. (PTA meetings can be brutal.)
5. You need to honor yourself, your needs, and your dreams.
Kids need the best version of you. We are not talking about the perfectly waxed, superbly coifed, and supremely toned you. (Remember those days? We don’t.) We’re talking about the you that channels deep wells of Mother Theresa worthy patience, laughs in the face of Looney Tune-esque antics, and leaps tall buildings in a single bound or at least has the energy for a decent game of yard soccer. We’re talking about the you that happens when you are rested, understood, and your soul is fed on a deep metaphysical level.
Soooooooooooo. . . .
If you want to get a babysitter to write your blog, take a run, or get a haircut, just do it. Volunteer to save woodchucks, write the great American novel or break out the cocktails with a friend. Honor your needs, because you need to recharge and only YOU know what is gonna make that happen.
On the flip side? Don’t Judge!
If other people are taking time, don’t judge. Take notes on how she makes it happen! There is no medal for this tour of duty. Let us tell you once and for all: You do not win any Mother of the Year trophies, because there is no competition!
If you get the chance to be away from your precious ones, don’t spend that time fretting about what is going on at home. If you’re not refreshed to tackle your mom job when you actually get back home, then it’s nobody’s fault but your own. Girl, you know you’re back on duty the SECOND you walk through that door. Take your chance and run like hell or, in the beginning, baby step your way to a better, happier you.
We know it’s hard, but you have to get over the hassle of taking that first step. Go sit in a coffee house, grab a tapas with your girlfriends, or take an afternoon off to spend with a good book. They all offer you the same thing—a chance to do what makes you feel good. You will be a better mother for it, and these baby steps toward honoring yourself will prepare you for even bigger leaps like, gasp, going away with your husband. It’s work (we know the planning, the scheduling, and organizing can nearly kill you) but it’s worth it.
There’s a reason there’s a saying: “If mama ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy.” Kick Mom Guilt to the curb and grab your slice of happiness today.
We’ve been married long enough (to our husbands, not each other) to know that we both hit the jackpot when it comes to great guys. Erin’s husband, Steve, and Ellen’s man, Frank, are solid, steady models of what it means to be a great husband. This makes them excellent examples for our teen daughters of how high they should set the bar for potential spouses. Among the many things we wish for our girls, we’re both really hoping for some great sons-in-law. To that end, it would behoove them to appreciate some of these mighty fine qualities in their own fathers so that they might end up with great catches of their own.
1. Bomb Squad Captain
Our daughters are magnificent yet imperfect people just like their mothers. A guy who can handle all the stuff life and their wife throws at them is a keeper.
Erin: The other day I blew up my morning by committing a cardinal sin of teen parenting: questioning a teen’s fashion choice as she was walking out the door. I may have been looking for a place to hide, but Steve was the one left to diffuse this bomb. The sensei of calm in the midst of chaos, Steve had this crisis locked down and everything righted again by the time they made it to school. I DID get this though: “Nobody messes with my teens in the morning.” Oops. My bad.
2. A Piper Willing to Pay
There will be times in a long, happy marriage when a husband needs to be brave, bold, and willing to bend.
Ellen: I had been attempting to get Frank to parasail with me since our honeymoon. Instead of delving into the reasons behind his sidestepping, I’ll just leave it as “Something else always came up.” A little while ago, on our family cruise vacation, his dodging lost its dart. When our teen daughter wanted to parasail, he immediately and magnanimously agreed it was a great idea . . . for her to go with me. Two birds with one stone; you have to admire the efficiency.
But then our tween piped up, “I want to go too.” And I laughed and laughed because now both parents had to go (he was too stunned to realize I could have just gone twice, shhhhh). And I laughed some more when our teen volunteered for her and her dad to go first. He ended up having a blast and it was all because he loves his girls.
They are a little in the shadows, but one person is grinning and one person looks a little worried. Guess who is who.
Erin:This is the lighter side of stepping up to the plate, but it is the stuff of great family memories.
3. Clutch Hitter
Marriage, like life, is messy. You wanna guy who can and will hold the bucket.
Erin:Steve is ridiculously, blessedly good when the chips are down around here. He has proven himself time and again to be the guy you want around to bandage your wounds or take over when a viral menace takes down the entire family. I have actually seen him drag his own sorry sick butt out of bed to crawl to help a sick kid when I was too sick to move. That’s the guy you want on your wall.
4. Grandmaster Flash of Family Fun
It may sound oh-so-cheesy but it’s the honest truth that families that play together, stay together. Pick a guy with a sense of fun who wants to share it with his favorite peeps.
Ellen: Frank is fabulous at planning family vacations because he IS the Grandmaster Flash of working Expedia deals. The result is some wonderful family memories that build a strong foundation to support you through rougher times.
5. Schtick Flinger
Both of our men love movies as evidenced by our marital codes of movie quotes. This soothingly predictable banter keeps the daily hum of our lives from being humdrum. Our girls don’t necessarily have to find movie-quoters, but there is a golden nugget here. Pick a partner who makes you laugh through the every day. You’ll never regret it.
Erin:Steve can find fun in paper bag. With his natural gift for storytelling, he can make even a weeknight dinner a laugh-riot.
6. Cheerleader
No pom-poms here. We’re talking about a guy like George Bailey from “It’s A Wonderful Life;” one who’s willing to lasso the moon for you. You cannot do better than find a man who wants what’s best for you and wants to help you get there, even when that means becoming fodder for your book.
7. Proffer of a Great Proposal
Speaking of fodder for a book, we wrote about our proposal stories, the beginning of our marital bliss, in I Just Want To Be Alone. Listen up, our fabulous daughters, if you hold out for the other six qualities we listed, your husband-to-be will want to rock your socks off when he asks you to marry him. You’ll have great stories to tell your children and grandkids or if you follow in our footsteps, the entire free world.
So girls, we’re seriously hoping you follow our advice and land some sweet fellas like the ones we have. Remember what we said about those sons-in-law.
What is wrong with people? Buying someone a wedding shower gift should be the easiest thing in the world because of that time honored tradition: Bridal Registries. The happy couple actually takes the time to zap half the store with their little scanner gun so you have a list. All you have to do is run down the prices, pick your poison, and “Boom!” you’re done.
And if you perform this act of magic online, one more click, a little extra money, and that sucker is wrapped and shipped. It’s so simple even a zombie can do it as long as she didn’t lose her AmEx along with her soul. But if this is still just too much trouble, a check is always appreciated . . . as long as it’s not rubber.
Yet people spend the extra energy to go off the reservation all. of. the. time. The results are rarely good, unless the bride-to-be really did just forget to register for that ceramic pig sundial. If that is the case, we’ll just kick Santa to the curb and anoint you Mayor of Giftingville right now. Oh wait, even Santa follows lists.
For everyone else, here are five types of shower gifts to avoid.
1. The Registry Rejection
This might be the most egregious violation of all. Buying something that is “like” what is on the registry, but not quite. Ellen actually received a gold, burgundy, and green Navajo print comforter (why yes, it was just as lovely as it sounds) with this comment from the giver as she opened it, “I saw the comforter on your registry but I just didn’t like it so I got you this one.” But truly, what is better than ugly with a side of disdain for your taste?
This gift was waaaay out there.
2. The Leftover Gift
Erin has an uncle who likes to buy animatronic figures in bulk to take over to Poland as gifts when he goes to visit family. (Just keep reading that sentence until it sinks in.) He’ll have leftovers that he’ll gift to a few lucky stateside relatives. This is how Erin, at her bridal shower, became the fortunate owner of a Grooving Santa. The same type of Santa her sister-in-law had received the year before for her wedding. Yeah.
3. The Matching Outfit
Ellen has seen this one go down—the matching shirt and shorts for the couple to sport on their honeymoon. They are getting married, not auditioning as the protagonist couple for an Adam Sandler movie. No matchies! And just to throw it out there, does anyone really want to receive lingerie from her future mother-in-law?
4. The Subtle Hint
The bridal shower is not the time or place to give that heirloom hand-knitted baby sweater, especially if the couple is marriage before carriage. Relax . . . and go return that bulk box of ovulation tests, too.
5. The Re-Gift
Ah, re-gifting. Is it tacky or recycling? Regardless, try to follow along with what happened to Ellen on the bridal shower circuit. One fall, she watched her friend open an electric blue fondue pot. Months later, Ellen then received an electric blue fondue pot from that friend at her own shower. Wait, this is a time for air quotes—“friend.”
Don’t gift things out of your closet unless you happen to have a million dollars lying around. In that case, inbox us and we’ll make sure the bride gets it.
And Now for the Gem!
After all of this, are you like, “Ellen and Erin, it would be a relief to conform, but it would ruin my street cred to do anything as mundane as follow a registry.”
We have your solution: So new it can’t be on any registry, yet SO FABULOUSLY funny no one would ever complain about receiving it!
I Just Want to Be Alone is a collection of humorous essays from 38 of the most Super Cool Lady Writers you’ll find on the web . . . including us! Jen of People I Want to Punch in the Throat is the mastermind who brought us all together to tell the stories about our men that will have you nodding along and laughing out loud.
But it’s not just for brides-to-be! Every woman wants this in her life, needs this in her life.
It’s for any woman who has sent her man to the store for potato chips only to have him return with tortilla chips.
It’s for that lady whose hubby has ruined yet another load of laundry by leaving a pen in his pants.
It’s for that gal whose fiancé planned out the perfect proposal, but didn’t plan on the limo driver pulling over to take a whizz.
It’s for all of us who have rued that our husbands have taken up bee keeping. Wait, what? Never mind, just accept . . .
