Hi. It’s been awhile. But here I am. Back on this page writing the thoughts that are in my head. Take ’em, leave ’em. Do what you want with them.

You know the saying, “you marry your mother/father”? Well usually, a guy marries his mom. Finds someone that in some way emulates that caregiver he grew up knowing was always there when he needed her. Daughters tend to marry that man that reminds her of the strong provider her father was. Well, my wife and I flipped the script some. She can tell her own story if she wants, this is my side.

I didn’t marry my mom. I married my dad. Sort of. Not in a weird way. I just did. It took us long time to figure that out. Therapy helped. (Always does if you’re curious.)

I was the middle child and only boy and I spent most of my life trying to impress my dad. My parents divorced when I was around four. My dad and mom decided that my mom would have custody and we would see him on the weekends. And we did. My dad was not a deadbeat in anyway. It was probably (and still is), one of the easiest divorces to grow up in and live through. They never put us in the middle of anything and when it came about that my dad would take us full-time, that went easy for us too. For the most part, but that’s someone else’s story.

Anyway, just wanted to clear that divorced kid junk up. It wasn’t bad. But it did probably cause my need to impress my dad to be stronger than it should have been. I did a lot just to get some recognition from him. He didn’t fail to give it, but it wasn’t his strong suit. I knew my dad loved me and for the most part that he was proud of me, he just wasn’t really good at displaying it most of the time. My best example of this is when I graduated from university. I elected to not go to my graduation because I didn’t feel like it was a big deal to anyone but me, so why bother. Weeks later when he asked when it was and I told him it had already happened, he was upset. He had wanted go and see me graduate. I never knew because I never felt he thought me even attending university meant anything, yet alone was a good idea. Who knew?

That in some ways sums up my wife as well. She’s not great at showing love. I know she loves me. I know she’s proud of the things I have accomplished and how I do my part in this life we built with each other and our children. Unfortunately for me and mostly her, there is a standard I think I long for in my head, that is too hard to reach and so sometimes I feel she falls short. When really? She’s doing a great job. I’m just a little broken. I should probably tell her that more often. Instead, I tell her how much I love her.

I’ve learned over many years that I have this problem and I do my best to not show or say what I’m missing. (Obviously, I don’t always succeed.) In turn, she does her part to try and show the little bits of affection I crave a little more than what she naturally would be inclined to do.I’m overly romantic. She occasionally finds it too much. (Probably even annoying). I try to level it off some and fail most of the time and she does her best to not roll her eyes at me when she might feel it’s too much. 🙂

Side note: Even right now, I’m finding it hard not to write all the things about her that I love. I’m hopeless.

It’s a balance. We’re still learning. Probably always will be.

I know that in spite of our differences here and what I feel I may be missing, I don’t want to try this with anyone else. She gets me. I get her. Together? We’re great friends. We are an amazing set of parents, who allow each other to pick up the pieces or places the other one needs to drop and our girls are turning out alright. We’re not perfect. They won’t be perfect. My old man wasn’t/isn’t perfect. But it’s about finding the best parts even when there are imperfections, that allow everyone to move forward and find happiness. We are.