Mom Archives - That's Inappropriate

03Aug 2015

10 Steps To A “Safe Selfie”

I avoid being in any pictures at any and all costs. I never take “selfies” and to be honest, I don’t like to see other people’s “selfies.” There is a dangerous trend spreading across the globe where people are putting themselves in harm’s way to click the perfect “selfie.” As a mother of three I would like to start a campaign know as “Safe Selfies.” Below are some tips and tricks to practice while taking “selfies” to ensure that they are safe, secure, and in good taste.

1. Avoid the “Naughty Selfie” at all times: This is a firm tip to practice. You don’t want to look like a horses ass while showing too much titty. Keep your clothes on and no one will nag you about your indiscretions in the future.

2. Avoid the Dr. Seuss “selfie”: Do not selfie with a fox. Do not selfie in a box. Be sure to check both here and there; your selfie could end up EVERYWHERE!

3. Avoid high altitude “selfies.”: Perhaps it’s because the air is thinner, or you’re an idiot, but a “selfie” on the railing on a bridge or the rooftop of a building spells disaster.

4. Never “selfie” while drinking: It always seems like a great idea to take out the phone and click away while hanging out and drinking with friends. Instagram and Snapchat will tell a much different, more scandalous story the next day. You thought you looked hot, but hot you was not!

5. Duck-face “selfies” are done!: Please avoid the duck-face “selfie” at all costs. I am currently working with the state legislature to make this type of “selfie” a ticketable offense for animal cruelty.

6. Animal “selfies” are so not this season: Stay away from bears, bison, bucks, bees, beavers, bats, bulldogs, baboons, and bobcats. To be safe, avoid taking a “selfie” with any member of the animal kingdom that isn’t vaccinated and micro-chipped.

7. Avoid the arrestable “selfie”: It is not wise to take a “selfie” with guns, ammo, knives, weapons, money, drugs, or bomb making materials. If you are unaware of what self-incrimination is, shoot me an email and I will send you some information, and the contact of a good lawyer I know.

8. Funeral “selfies”: This type of selfie is usually in poor taste, especially if you also get an image of the casket or urn. Some people may wonder why you are shooting a peace sign next to Grandma’s casket with a stern look on your face.

9. DWS (Driving while selfie-ing): PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE, stop taking selfies while driving in cars. I promise that this will end in catastrophe. You may have caught a glimpse of yourself in the side view mirror and thought, “Damn, I am looking smoking hot today,” but I beg of you, keep the phone off and away from you while driving. You will definitely look smoking hot when you plow into a tree and your car bursts into flames.

10. DO NOT EVER take a bathroom selfie: I repeat, NEVER EVER take a bathroom selfie. You may have seen yourself in the bathroom mirror and thought, “Wow, this is the perfect lighting for a dick pic.” I guarantee you that it is not the perfect lighting, and further more, shame on you. Put your penis back in your pants and go straight to time-out. But the real danger of the bathroom selfie is simple, you may unintentionally snap the picture with the toilet in the background and low and behold, the toilet is overrun with a gang of feces.

So if you must “selfie” please do it with care. Use the brains in your head, and keep the duck bill off your lips. I am not opposed to saving memories, I am simply trying to spread awareness about the great cause that is near and dear to my heart. So be smart and practice safe selfies!

Meredith is a work-from-home mother of three who writes about the inappropriate side of marriage and motherhood on her blog at That’s Inappropriate Follow her on Facebook and Twitter.

17Jun 2015

Rachel Dolezal, Really?

by Meredith Masony ⋅ Leave a Comment

I am not positive why this story has struck such a strong chord with me. It might be because I am a white woman who married and had children with a brown man. My children vary in skin tone and have wild uncontrollable hair. At the end of the day, my children are a product of my husband and I. His genetics, obviously more powerful than mine. I often joke that I would like a maternity test, simply because they look nothing like me.

As a parent, I would be upset if my child lied about their race or lineage. My children are part of me and that would be devastating. I understand that she claims to identify with African-American culture and feels that she is a Black woman. However, it seems that her “feelings” have a tendency to change. I agree with Matt Lauer and his statement that she is “deceiving” people for her benefit. To Rachel I say, “Be whoever, whatever, you want, to be. But Rachel, please do not lie.” If you have no interest in having a relationship with your family, that is your choice, but you cannot change your genetics.

When my children were old enough to come home and ask, “Mommy, why is my skin a different color than my friends?” It was a quick answer, “Honey, you are a mix of Mommy and Daddy. Mommy is white and Daddy is brown. So together, you are a beautiful Caramel Macchiato.” Mommy loves Starbucks, so she understood the reference.

Lying to gain leverage in the NAACP, or for financial or political gain is wrong no matter what color you are. That has nothing to do with the color of your skin, that is simply a portrait of your character. We are growing and changing as a nation. It is wonderful to see tolerance and respect for others grow and flourish. However, I find it sad and disheartening to witness someone lie under the guise “racial complexity.” From one mother to another; Rachel, honesty is the best policy.
About the author: Meredith is a work from home mother of three, who spends most of her time saving for pre-paid therapy for her future adult children. Let’s be honest, they might not all go to college, but odds are they will all need a therapist at some point. Meredith writes about the inappropriate side of marriage and motherhood on her blog, thatsinappropriate.net. She is also a contributor on the parenting team at today.com. You can track her down on Medium , Facebook and on the Huffington Post

14Jun 2015

The 5 Stages Of Whining

by Meredith Masony ⋅ 1 Comment

I can tolerate a lot of things. I do pretty well with reason, logic, questioning, arguments, and even miss-communication. I however, do not do well with whining. This is a HUGE problem in my home. I house three children under the age of 10 and they all seem to suffer from CWS (Chronic Whining Syndrome). I recently read an article about grief and grief counseling and I realized that whining also follows those 5 stages.

1. Denial: It’s 6:45 A.M. My four-year-old enters the kitchen whining that his shoes do not fit. They fit yesterday, but today, they do not fit. He is hellaciously whining about his socks and shoes and the fact that this combination will not be occurring today. My approach, I deny his whines and continue to pack school lunches. I ignore his tone and move on to my next activity. I act as though he is nonexistent. I step over him to put on the coffee pot.

2. Anger: The four-year-old continues to whine until my pre-coffee self, raises my voice and states. “Put on your shoes, or you are going to school without them.” I know he needs shoes to go to school, but I have 23 minutes to get out the door with three children dressed, fed, and lunches packed. The four-year-old begins to flail around making unhappy tile angels on my kitchen floor. Staring at me with disdain and arms tightly folded, his protest escalates.

3. Bargaining: I sit on the floor and take a deep breath. “We have to put on your shoes so we can get to school on time. You want to see your friends right?” He looks at me as though he wants to run me through with a Samurai sword. “I want to wear flip-flops” he demands. “OK, but flip-flops are not allowed at school. It is against the rules. You don’t want to break the rules do you?” I ask. “No, but I WANT to wear flip-flops. PLEASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSE MOM, I WANT TO WEAR FLIP FLOPS.” The whining is now grating on every bone in my body. It is my kryptonite. I can barely stand it anymore.

4. Depression: This is the point where I sit on the kitchen floor and think, “This is my life. I mean, seriously this is my life? Every. Freaking. Day. This is the shit I deal with. WTF. Why can’t he put on his shoes and get ready.” He looks deep into my eyes and says, “Mom, why are you so mean to me. Why do you make me get dressed every day?” Why does it have to be so damn difficult? I just don’t get it! I mean, I like flip-flops too, but seriously. Every. Damn. Day.

5. Acceptance: “Honey, I understand that you want to wear flip-flops, but rules are rules. How about we bring the flip-flops in the car and you can change after school?” I am almost positive that this will work. I can see the wheels turning in his head. He is methodically planning his next move. It’s like playing chess with freaking Bobby Fisher. “No Mom, I will just wear my boots.” You have got to be freaking kidding me!

Meredith Masony

That’s Inappropriate

27May 2015

20 Tips To Becoming A Superhero To Your Spouse

by Meredith Masony ⋅ 18 Comments

It seems that there are superheroes everywhere you turn. New summer movies will be gracing the big screens any day now, and comic book television dramas are sure to be on the fall primetime lineup. I have sat through hours of Batman, Ironman, the Flash, Superman, Spiderman, and most recently Daredevil. I am at a loss to say the least. Don’t get me wrong, I like a good action flick as much as the next guy, but I just don’t get superheroes.

What is it about superheroes that make our husbands want to secretly be these men? Why do they dream about a meteor falling from the sky, causing intergalactic gel to ooze into the water system, thus giving them secret powers that they can use to fight crime???? I guess I am no fun. I don’t see the point in watching a movie or television series where people have magical powers. If you want me to watch a show with you, create a character that was hit by a bolt of lightning and woke up without her saggy tits, cellulite on her ass, and the absence of cross-continental baggage under her eyes. That show I will watch!

So men, let me tell you what will make you a Superhero to your significant other:

1. Scrub the toilet. The entire toilet, including the shit stains.

2. Wash the dishes….with soap.

3. Give the kids a bath….with soap.

4. Cook dinner, or get take-out. Either way she didn’t have to cook, so you win.

5. Take us shopping and smile the entire time. Don’t ask if the item is on sale.

6. Wake up at night with the kids….especially if someone pissed the bed. Don’t pretend you can’t hear them. The dead can hear them.

7. Hold your farts. If it is a dire emergency, pass gas next to the children, not your wife.

8. Don’t fart while in bed, and don’t even think about pulling the covers up over her head.

9. When we agree that a holiday or special occasion does not require gifts, get her one anyway. She wants a gift. She always wants a gift.

10. Snuggle up next to your wife while in bed and cuddle with no expectation of sex. Like legitimately no expectation of sex.

11. Don’t’ push your junk on her back and tell her you have a gift for her. It’s not really a gift. She has seen it before.

12. Vacuum, mop, wash the windows, repeat.

13. Ask her if she wants a mustache ride without expecting anything in return.

14. Get a babysitter without telling her and take her to dinner.

15. Wash the laundry, and put it away. Let me clarify, put it in the correct drawer. Don’t put your son’s underwear in your wife’s drawer.

16. Load the dishwasher, and then empty the dishwasher without being asked. I bet she drops to her knees later that evening.

17. Text her a sweet message during the day. Something like, “Babe, I can’t wait to get home and do a load of whites.”

18. Take the kids……ANYWHERE. For an extended period of time.

19. Bring her chocolate…….ANYTHING.

20. Bring her wine……..ANY KIND.

So as you can see, it is pretty simple to become a superhero. Your spouse will most definitely think that you can leap tall buildings in a single bound if you follow these 20 tips. They will call you the man of steel, or whatever ridiculous name you want them to scream while in the bedroom. These 20 tips are proven panty dropper’s, so get started today.

*This message is endorsed and sponsored by every woman on the planet

18May 2015

5 Signs You Are a Flawed Friend

by Meredith Masony ⋅ 2 Comments

This past weekend I was sitting with friends, relaxing and enjoying a mid-day buzz. We were chatting about “Pet Peeves” our friends do that drive us crazy, and in the middle of the conversation I had an Oprah ” Ah-ha” moment. I am that flawed friend. I hadn’t always been that way, but I am at the point in my life where I can only retain so much information, and complete so many tasks on a daily basis. My flawed friendship status was never intentional, but the fact remains….. I am a flawed friend.

I had no idea how much I sucked until I took a look around my house and realized that I still have a ton of stuff that I “borrowed” and never returned. I am always asking for favors, and most of the time I am late to anything I am invited to. I sat searching my brain for redeeming qualities and found I was as empty as my Sangria glass. However, I do have a swimming pool and a liquor cabinet, So I have that going for me. At least my shallow friends will still visit, it is summer time.

The realization hit me like a ton of bricks. I was envisioning being inducted into the Friendship Hall of Shame in my mind. I could see friends from the past, present, and future all giving speeches as to why I was the absolute worst friend ever.

Now that I have accepted my flawed friend status, I have decided to help others by writing about it. You too may also be a terrible friend, and not realize it. So here are the top 5 reasons that I am a sucky friend. Check the list and see if you too will be inducted into the Friendship Hall of Shame.

1. Always Late: I am constantly late. I always blame my children for my tardiness, but most of the time it is my fault. I am a habitual offender of losing track of time. I will start a task and get distracted, start another task, and then realize I was supposed to be at Starbucks to meet someone 15 minutes ago. Sometimes I will set a reminder, only to forget what the reminder was for. Then I sit and ask my dog what I am late for. It’s an exhausting process.

2. Finders Keepers: I borrow things from friends all the time. I currently have a coffee grinder and Laptop that has been in my possession for about six months. I called my bestie to ask him if he needed the coffee grinder back and he laughed, “Oh Sweetie, I bought another one a few months ago.” I was so embarrassed. I had basically confiscated several household items from my friends and never took the time to shop for my own item, or return their item. What a Schmuck!

3. Forgetful: I try to write down, or schedule every aspect of my life. I can’t seem to remember important dates such as birthdays and anniversaries. I always miss my families and friend special days. I am not sure if it’s because I am not a big fans of holidays, or it’s simply because I have the emotional IQ of a rock. Either way, I never send cards, and I always end up looking like a complete Asshat. Once again, never intentional, but shameful just the same.

4. Non-Consoler: I am the WORST at consoling my friends. Any time they have an issue that brings them to tears, I turn straight to an awkward untimely joke. I become very uncomfortable with emotions and crying. I begin to sweat and make jokes about bodily functions or male genitalia. I am not even sure that I know how to properly hug someone. I never know if I am supposed to go in first, or wait and see. It is a nightmare.

5. Notorious Bad Movie Selector: I love to watch movies with friends. It seems that my movie choices aren’t as renowned as Siskel and Ebert review choices. I recently forced my friends into viewing the first two Sharknado movies. The summer of 2015 will be no different. I have full intentions of a viewing party for the third movie Sharknado 3; Oh Hell No, coming in July. I am really a bad friend if I am trying to share cinematic genius with them? The movies were brilliant!

So to all my friends, I apologize. Please know that I have deep feelings of like for you, and I would do anything for you. I would even give you the shirt off of my back, but most likely it was yours to begin with. Please accept me as I am, and I will do my best to uncomfortably sit with you in your time of need.

12May 2015

Pantyliners, Aisle 7

by Meredith Masony ⋅ 4 Comments

I normally do all of the shopping for our household. This past weekend was Mother’s Day so I asked my husband if he would go to the store to pick up a few things. Around noon, I sent him to the store for a total of 5 items. One of the items on the list was pantyliners. After giving birth to three children, I need the type of protection that said pantyliner provides. It is not a fun topic to discuss, but it is my lot in life to pee when I sneeze, laugh, jump, trip, fall, high-five, the list goes on and on.

I was very specific with the type of pantyliner and brand that I wanted him to buy. I am a creature of habit, so I like to purchase the same product when I get great results. Pantyliners are a product that need to work…EVERY. TIME. My husband sent me a text, stating that he could not find the brand that I wanted. I told him where they were located in the store, and asked him to ask someone if he couldn’t find them. I knew that when I told him to ask someone, that he wouldn’t. My guess is that he figured if he asked an associate they would naturally assume that the pantyliners were for him. I mean what other logical thought would the associate have. A man in the feminine hygiene aisle, he must be shopping for his own personal use.

10 minutes later, he texted back stating that they really don’t have them and he sent me a picture of the brands that they did have. I looked over the selection and asked him to pick up the box of Always brand pantyliners and check to see if they were un-scented. He spent another five minutes reading the box. My guess is that he ran from the feminine care aisle and attempted to hide in the corner of the store. We have been married for over 12 years. He has watched me give birth three times, and yet he is embarrassed to buy a feminine care product. He finally texted me back stating that he didn’t think they were scented. Below is our short and sweet text conversation:

I couldn’t help but have a little fun with my husband. I mean seriously, it is not that big a deal. I wasn’t asking him to go up to a woman in the aisle and ask her for a detailed personal review on the pantyliner. I just wanted him to get the right one. He apparently didn’t think my joke was funny. I still laugh when I see the picture that I took of our text conversation. Life is too short to be embarrassed over pantyliners and personal hygiene products. I can safely say that I wouldn’t have a problem going to the store to buy him jock itch cream. He did come home with a pack of pantyliners, so it was a successful venture. I am safe to sneeze, thanks to my husband.

06May 2015

My Mother’s Day Wish

by Meredith Masony ⋅ Leave a Comment

I don’t want flowers.

Please don’t buy me a gift.

What do I want this year, several hours of quiet bliss.

Don’t knock on my door.

Don’t utter my name.

If a problem arises, call Daddy, he’s game.

I want to shower in silence.

I want to take a long nap.

I don’t want to see your fingers under the door while taking a crap.

Don’t tell me you’re hungry.

Don’t whimper or whine.

It’s Mother’s day rug rats, pass the wine while I dine.

The kitchen is closed.

No cooking today.

But I do want to binge watch episodes of Grey’s.

No cleaning or laundry.

No dishes will I do.

You crayon gobblers’ better think twice before throwing a coup.

I want to relax and read a book.

Eat a meal without sharing.

I’m sorry if this seems a bit uncaring.

Daddy, this goes for you too.

So tonight at bedtime…

I’ll take a pass on the screw.

I want to fall asleep untouched.

Please, no orifice invasion.

No groping or humping, I’m immune to persuasion.

Mommy needs a break.

But please don’t be sad.

The sperm donor’s here, you call him Dad.

28Apr 2015

An Open Letter to Taylor Swift

by Meredith Masony ⋅ 1 Comment

Let me begin by saying that I do in fact understand that I am a 34-year-old mother of 3. I am also a huge Taylor Swift fan. I have several friends who have given me grief for being such a “Swifty,” but I simply do not care. Here is my open letter to Taylor Swift, explaining why I am head over heels in love with her.

Dear Taylor Swift,

You are adorable. Sometimes I pretend to be your beautiful, fancy older sister who gets to jet set with you all over the globe. You are remarkable. I am in awe of your song writing talents and ability to engineer social media. You are undoubtedly a genius. I am impressed with your musical talents, but also your business and marketing skills. You have become a very accomplished individual at a very young age. Being a mother, I am grateful to you as an artist and competent role model. My children all adore your music and I am happy that they can listen to it. Your music videos are all safe for their eyes, and you have given back to the community that has supported you over and over again.

It seems like critics are always waiting for the other shoe to drop with you. They are waiting for you to “Lose it” or get photographed doing illegal or immoral things. To them I say, “Haters gonna hate,” to you I say, “Shake it Off.” You are a smart business woman, who I am thrilled to have my daughter look up to. You have found a way to make a huge impact while remaining grounded and sane. I applaud your efforts and I wish you the best. I know you will continue to succeed going quintuple platinum on your next three albums. I hope you are happy and find satisfaction with your craft.

I find your music infectious and I can never sit still when listening to your sick beats. I find myself mopping the floors to your energetic tunes. Your lyrics send a message of hope and inspiration, as well as power to know it is safe to be yourself. You have cornered the market on threenagers, teenagers, and thirty-somethings. I look forward to your 1989 tour, and I will see you in October.

Sincerely,

Crazy Mother of 3 Super Fan

P.S. My husband also loves you and uses the 1989 album as his workout mix 😉

Sunshine

www.thatsinappropriate.net

21Apr 2015

The Day Mommy Lost Her SH#T

by Meredith Masony ⋅ 6 Comments

One of my biggest parenting fears has always been that I will royally screw up my kids. They are relatively defenseless, and I have always been concerned with sending them straight to the therapist couch. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200 dollars. About a month ago, I had the kind of day my kids will definitely, at some point, relive in a therapist’s office.

Spring break was upon our household like the Bubonic plaque. Kids were crawling all over the place and I had 14 days worth of maximum security lock up to look forward to. I work from home which has as many benefits as drawbacks. One major drawback being, I can’t get my work done when my kids are home. I tried to find camps to send them to, but that ship had sailed.

The week started out with the common daily issues we all face in our households. There was a ton of screaming, crying, fist fighting, food throwing, running, and tattle telling. I was doing my best to keep it together. I was stressed with work, the demands of the three tiny hemorrhoids, and I was getting ready to have my second surgery for the year. I was not in the best state of mind to say the least.

It was day seven of the break. That morning I got a letter in the mail from my home owners associations stating that we had violated our deed restrictions and owed a $100 fine. I was livid. I had been battling with these Napoleonic retirees for months and I was done. I loaded everyone into the car and drove to the management office to pay my association fees and address my recent violation. I jumped out of the van to discover that the office was closed. My blood began to boil. I automatically texted my husband a list of obscenities that I could not blurt out in front of the kids. I boldly and feverishly texted that I was on the verge of throat punching someone and buckled myself back into my seat.

On the drive home the kids continued to fight over who was going to watch what when we got home. One kid hit another kid with a book in the backseat and I swung around screaming, “If I have to pull this van over you will not be happy!” My idle threat fell on deaf ears as I continued home with the miniature tyrants screaming that they wanted to swim. I tried to text my husband to calm me down but he was in a meeting and couldn’t respond.

We entered the house and I ran into my office to check my voice-mails. Just as I had dialed a number I heard two of my kids screaming and crying as though they were being mauled by a grizzly bear. I ran from the office to find them fighting over a stuffed penguin.

At that moment I lost my SH#T. I couldn’t take another second of the screaming and fighting. I grabbed the stuffed penguin and said, “If you’re going to fight over it, you’re going to lose it!” I then proceeded to make the penguin a double amputee by ripping his arms off. I stuffed him in the garbage can and looked back at my kids. They stood there, in silence, mortified that I had maimed the penguin from Madagascar. I shoved his mangled body in the trash can and smacked his beaten head with the lid. He had made his way into an early grave. I stood there in shock, I was now a stuffed animal murderer.

The kids took one look at me and were off like a bat out of hell and ran for their rooms. I followed, screaming hysterically about their constant fighting, and continued my rant for about five more minutes. Nothing in my path was safe. I slammed chairs, threw toys, clothing, and shoes. As I walked past a mirror in the living room I caught a glimpse of myself and I stopped. I looked like a crazy lunatic.

I needed to find my SH#T and put it back together. I went to the bathroom and cried for a few minutes. I then walked back out to the living room and sat all of the kids on the couch. I apologized, I cried, they cried, and we all hugged. My son looked at me and quietly asked if he could have his penguin back. I explained that he was now in a better place and he said, “No, he is in a trash can.” I tried not to laugh, but I did. My oldest chimed in with, “Yeah buddy, it’s gone. Mom went crazy on that penguin.”

It is most definitely a day that I won’t forget. It was one of my worst parenting moments, but it taught me a very specific lesson. I simply can’t do it all. I can’t take care of three kids, work from home, take care of the house, and keep any kind of sanity. I called my boss that evening and asked her for a week off so that I could properly do my most vital job, be a Mom.

So the reason I am talking about my worst parenting moment, is to let you know that it too shall pass. I know that my limits are real and must be acknowledged. We all fall, it’s what happens next that matters most.

03Apr 2015

7 Things Married Me, Would Share With Newlywed Me

by Meredith Masony ⋅ 13 Comments

I have learned a lot of lessons over the past 12 years. If I could go back and give newlywed me a few tips on surviving marriage, it would look a little something like this.

Fairy Tales do not exist: Life happens and the best way to deal with that is by going with the flow. Resisting the current will cause a lot of stress and arguments. We all watch movies like the Notebook and Dirty Dancing, and think, “I want that kind of super sexy passionate relationship.” Sure, it looks pretty hot, heavy, and magical, but that is not reality. I bet if Dirty Dancing had a sequel, Johnny would come home without the milk at some point and we would really see how passionate Baby would become. “Johnny, are you serious? What are the kids going to put on their cereal in the morning? I asked for one freaking thing!”
Let him go….anywhere he wants: For the first few years of our marriage, I nagged my husband to keep him close. I was always so upset that he would want to go away and be separated from me. I couldn’t understand why he didn’t want to be with me every second of the day. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, I truly believe that. Since having children, I am happy to have my husband go out and play golf, or do anything his little heart pleases. The only rule is that he takes at least one kids when he goes. He needs time away from me and I need time away from him. We both need time away from the kids. It is necessary for survival. I recommend some separation if you want to remain married, it makes sense I swear.
He is not going to change: I spent years complaining that my husband doesn’t clean toilets, or help with the household chores. I would actually ask him, “Why don’t you want to help me clean the house?” I can’t help but laugh out loud thinking about it. I don’t want to clean the house, why would he want to clean the house. We dated for a long time prior to marrying, and he was a slob then, why would he morph into a tidy companion. It was an unrealistic notion that drove me crazy. To this day I have never seen him scrub a toilet. I am positive that the Apocalypse will occur if he were to ever pick up a toilet brush.
Romance IS OVERRATED: Wine me, dine me, …..You know the rest. Being romantic is not for everyone. I love to see it on the big screen, but it is not something that comes naturally to my husband. I use to beg him for romantic gestures, but that is like asking a musician to perform surgery. We all have talents and strengths, and it is unfair to demand a talent that someone does not possess. Everyday does not need to be a page out of a romance novel, that is not real life. The nights that he gets up and does the dishes without me prompting him are the sexiest gestures ever. Watch out Mr. Grey, my husband scrubbed a pot!!! SO Freaking HOT!
Saying “I love you” is not enough: To show someone you love them, use actions not words. I am not the biggest fan of serious conversations, or talking about my feelings. I like to use actions to speak for how I feel. My husband knows I love him because I cook, clean, iron his dress shirts, pack his lunch, and buy his favorite toilet paper. Nothing says I love you like a clean, freshly wiped backside.
Don’t argue over where to go for dinner: Don’t spend 45 minutes discussing where to go for dinner. Be happy you don’t have to cook and if you want something specific, ask. He can not read your mind. I promise. We went out last week and I wanted steak. I said, “Take me for steak.” His reply, “Outback it is.” It was quick and easy, up until the point where my three kids terrorized the restaurant and one violated the bathroom.
Making Love is made up: Sex is a big part of marriage, but making love doesn’t look like a Hollywood movie scene . There will not be candles, music, or mood lighting every time the horizontal mambo will occur. Sometime you just need to do it because he asked. Sometime you need to do it because the kids are all asleep for the first time in a week. Sometimes you will just need to lock the bathroom door and do it while the kids knock and ask “why you are both showering at the same time?” I like the excuse about conserving water the best. We all need to do our part to save Mother Earth.

So if I could go back and tell that bright-eyed, young bride these 7 things, the first few years of marriage may have looked a bit different. At least now I know how to pick my battles. Marriage is a marathon, so buy comfortable under-ware that don’t get easily bunched and hold on for one wild ride.

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