MY RED DRESS

It was a getaway weekend of epic proportions in our world! We had purchased concert tickets a little more than 7 months in advance. We had arranged babysitting for the mini monster and booked a hotel 5 hours away from home. This would be an anniversary to remember!

It was the day before we were to leave town when I realized: I had never been to a secular concert before, and had no idea what to wear! A co-worker advised that I would see every dress code imaginable there, so anything I would wear to work would be appropriate. My oldest daughter recommended something casual, in keeping with country music. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I thought for the amount of time and money and planning invested, it might just be worthy of my best red dress and my fake pearl necklace.

I did, in fact, see every dress code upon arrival. There were short shorts paired with crop tops and flip-flops, jeans with tank tops and cowboy boots, leggings with flowy tank tops and ballet flats ... and a ton of maxi dresses. Worn by tall, slender girls with long, thick hair. And there I sat: a middle-aged fat lady in my long, red dress.

The concert was amazing. My husband was great company! Stepping outside, the breeze was refreshing as we lined up for the shuttle bus to return us to our hotel. True to my people-watcher self, I listened and observed the people around us in conversation. The one lady in particular who caught my eye was a middle-aged mother who was clearly older than she appeared, based on the age of her husband and her adult son. I noticed her perfect makeup, her frilly shirt, her wavy hair, her tanned skin and the twinkle in her eyes. And there I stood: a frumpy middle-aged mom in a plain red dress.

We boarded the bus, chatted about the show, and exchanged Snapchats with the kids back home. Arriving at our dropoff point, we walked across a parking lot and hit the walk light that would allow us to cross the street to our hotel. It seemed to take forever for the light to change! I cracked a joke about standing on the corner for a little too long while wearing a red dress.

That's when he rocked my world. My husband laughed, slipped his arm around my waist and drew me close. He told me how great I looked and how much he had enjoyed our evening together. He wished me a Happy Anniversary. And I soaked it all in, standing there in my best. red. dress.

A MAN, HIS MOM AND MARRIAGE

Although I listen to a wide variety of music, my favorite types are Christian, Country and '80's music. Because my battle with depression mandates that I am careful what I feed my mind, I don't often listen to country music. For that reason, I had not heard Tim & Faith's new song "Speak To A Girl" until this week. Powerful!

SPEAK TO A GIRL

 

She don't give a damn 'bout your Benjamin Franklins, she wants Aretha

She don't really care how you're spending your money, it's all how you treat her

She just want a friend to be there when she opens her eyes in the morning

She wants you to say what you mean and mean everything that you're saying

 

'Cause that's how you talk to a woman, that's how you speak to a girl

That's how you get with the lady who's worth more than anything in your whole world

You better respect your Mama, respect the hell out of her

'Cause that's how you talk to a woman and that's how you speak to a girl

 

She don't give a damn 'bout your pride or the lies that you're hiding behind

She just wanna feel that you're real, that she's near to the man that's inside

She don't need to hear she's a queen on a throne, that she's more than amazing

She just wants you to say what you mean and to mean everything that you're saying

 

'Cause that's how you talk to a woman, that's how you speak to a girl

That's how you get with a lady who's worth more than anything in your whole world

You better respect your Mama, respect the hell out of her

 'Cause that's how you talk to a woman, that's how you speak to a girl

 

 

This song hit a nerve with me, because I have seen this for myself. How a man treats his mother is absolutely indicative of how he treats (or will treat) his lady. Although I knew this to be true, I did not understand the logic or the science behind it. From my personal experience as a mom of boys, I think it's linked to a mother's unconditional love. Especially during the rebellious teen years, a boy can get used to being able to say whatever he feels in the moment and knowing his mom will still love him the next morning.

 

What has surprised me in recent years is the shift. I hadn't actually realized what was happening until I heard the lyrics to this song, but I have observed it to be true: when a man's relationship with his mother changes, his relationship with his wife will also change. It does not matter if it is for better or for worse; whether he draws closer or more distant with his mom, he will do the same with his lady. If he does not feel free to speak his mind to his mother, he will not feel free to be truthful with his wife. They are directly linked.

Ladies, this means it is in your best interests to choose carefully. Be intentional about watching how your love interacts with his mother. Look for someone who remembers his mother's birthday, who honors her on Mother's Day, and who phones home regularly. Observe if he is able to have a respectful difference of opinion with her without disrupting the relationship. You are observing your own future.

Men, this is a call for integrity. Please don't show us one thing and become another. Don't impress us with flowers for your mom if you're going to follow that act with forgetting our birthdays and anniversaries. Don't tell your mother she's beautiful and then reject us for pornography. If the woman who has disciplined you can still be beautiful, the woman who cleans your underwear and sleeps with your night farts should be beautiful to you as well. Remember - beauty is more than physical attraction: it's who she is on the inside. If you have ceased to see her beauty, give her the same courtesy you gave your mom and move on.

It has been noted by mental health professionals that the best predictor of future behavior is past behavior. I wonder what the world would look like if those words were applied to every romantic relationship between a man and a lady. I wonder if more couples would identify an issue and care enough to break the cycle by seeking counselling. I wonder how many kids would be raised differently ... and how many boys of the next generation would know how to appropriately "Speak To A Girl." Because that's on us.

 

 

 





To My "Practice Husband"

Hi. It's been a long time. Twelve or 16 years, depending on whether you're counting from the last time we saw each other in the courtroom, or the last conversation we had. So you're probably wondering what's prompted this letter: it was a song.

I was listening to country music radio (yes, still a country fan) when I heard the singer's words: "I just miss you, and I just wish you were a better man." My heart stopped, and my breath caught in my throat. I couldn't believe your face had flashed before my eyes. But it's true.

I held onto bitterness for a very long time. The bad outweighed the good, but there were good times. I had to dig pretty deep to find them, but it helps to remember them now. It helps to speak them out loud to our children, who were too young to remember much of those days. They don't remember us dancing or playing Ping-Pong or serving at the soup kitchen together. But I tell them, because I want them to know those days happened. I'm OK with saying I miss those days, when your laughter was contagious. And I'm OK, too, with saying I wish you were a better man. Because just when I had begun to find a place of forgiveness in my heart, you stabbed it with a new knife.

Back in the day, I chose you. I chose you to be my first husband. I chose you to be the father of my children. I chose you as my eternal partner. I chose you to grow old with me. And now, I'm sorry.

I found out later you married me on a $5 bet. I'm sorry that $5 bet cost so many people so much.

I chose to marry you when the options before me were to marry you or never see you again.  I'm sorry I wasn't level-headed enough to see the value of taking more time to truly know each other.

I chose to stay through flaring tempers and swinging fists, because I believed our children deserved to know their father.  I'm sorry I made you a father, and kept you in that role too long; it is abundantly clear to me now that you either did not want, or were not ready for, children.

May I pause for a moment to brag here? Our children are beautiful. They are my treasures. In a world of hurt and anger and things we got wrong, I got it mostly right with them. Sure, there were teen moments ... but we got through them. And those kids are two of the world's most amazing adults to date. They are hard workers with kind souls, freckles and deep blue eyes. They are astonishingly protective of each other, and of their friends and chosen family.

I asked them if they wanted you at their high school graduations. I have kept tabs on you through the years via a "creeper account" on social media. I always knew the day would come that I would have to answer questions, and I wanted to be ready. Confession: I had years to prepare, and still wasn't ready. There is no way to prepare for the emotions associated with a moment like this.

Although they were not ready to have you attend their high school graduations, they are ready now. A daughter has questions. A son seeks a conversation with a man he doesn't remember. And your response? Classy as ever. You refused to acknowledge him on social media. You accepted her friend request, but refuse to send a single message. Not even "hello." Clearly, you were done with them the day you pulled their photos from your wallet, threw them on the windowsill and walked out. You're a special kind of demon.

Am I angry again? Yes. Will I let it weigh me down again? No. You were my practice husband. You taught me how to identify a real man. You taught me how to choose a real father. You taught me how to raise strong, intelligent human beings. You taught me more than you took from me. I will not let you win now.

I am grateful for all I have learned. I am sorry for all you have thrown away, without knowing the beauty it held. I am saddened for the tears in my children's eyes. I am blessed to see those tears absorbed by the shoulders of a man who carries a weight that was never his by rights ... but it's his by choice. For all the choices I have made, the greatest choice of all is the choice made by a man to step into a broken home and love it whole again. Thank you for being my practice husband; you allowed me to get it right with the man who matters most. My second-and-forever husband. The real father of my children.

I wish you no harm. I wish you no luck. I simply wish you were a better man.

Farewell,
Vicki