V Day 2014

I’ve heard a lot of exclamations about V Day recently – victory day, one billion rising day, barbie-on-the-sports-illustrated-cover day, someone-complaining-about-something day…. I just can’t even keep track anymore. I don’t mean to be glib about anyone’s missions or passions or quests for social equality – really, I don’t.

I just really, honestly can’t keep track.

But my V Day today, for example, involved red roses and a babysitter. Really, can it get any better than that?!

Valentine’s Day used to be something I taught my foreign language students about in Russia. “Hmmmm…yeah…I think saint so-and-so….somewhere….did something…. so we get chocolates and cards with hearts. Yeah! Let’s practice love poems in English, shall we?

(Except I’m an American and would never, ever say “shall” in public. Not a chance.)

Back in the day, my (then) boyfriend / (current) husband and I would make grand plans for the day, starting with champagne for breakfast and ending with lingerie and other things I can’t mention because my mother-in-law still reads these posts.

But these days… give me a night out with a few J&B on the rocks and – BAM! – Happy V Day to us, baby!

Now, listen ladies. LISTEN! This is not to say that romance is dead. Nothing is further from the truth! I had roses delivered to my door and a lovely note that expressed good, honest, true-to-the-bone emotion (which, as all you women know, is essentially the equivalent of Bilbo Baggins searching for the Holy Grail… )

So grab your man/woman/partner/animal and CELEBRATE all you lovely people out there! Celebrate, as a friend recently reminded me, the moments when you dance in the kitchen and crack open a bottle of champagne on a Tuesday for No Reason Whatsoever.

Good stuff!

Happy v-day to everyone, no matter what your cause of celebration or method for intaking happy substances into your system. Enjoy the moment, dance in the kitchen, and enjoy the babysitter while they’re still on the payroll!

Good stuff 🙂


Three years ago today…

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For all you busy, overworked and over-stressed parents out there, take a minute to kiss your spouse – your husband, your wife, your better half, your partner-in-crime.

They are special beyond words.

Two (+) years and counting

To my Dear Husband,

Remember those days in that faraway land when we first met and were insanely crazy about each other? Remember how we spent the nights without sleeping – just talking and loving and laughing with friends and dancing in our underwear in the living room?

Yeah, those were good days.

Remember how we were separated for a year when I was studying in England? Remember all those joyous reunions and tearful farewells at LHR? Remember all the good friends we made among my classmates and how you became a part of the extended Oxford family? Remember how you supported me during my moments of self-doubt and celebrated me during my moments of victory?

Yeah, those were good days too.

Remember the days we’ve had all over Norway – in Stavanger and Oslo and Bergen and Fevik? How we’ve always crowded too many friends into apartments that were much too small? Remember our shrimp parties and taco parties and sushi parties and Thanksgiving feasts and 17th May brunches and champagne for no reason at all?

Yeah, those were definitely good days.

Remember when you knelt down on your knee at Lake Como and asked me to marry you? Remember how I answered, “Yes, yes, a thousand times yes…“? Remember how we gathered our friends and family in Amalfi to hear us both say, “I do.“? Do you remember the view out our window on our first morning as a married couple?

Oh, wow, such good days.

Remember when I called you from Stavanger and told you I was pregnant? And the first time you felt your son kick inside of me? Remember when Per Christian was born and you held him in your arms and looked up at me with tears in your eyes? Remember when you climbed into my hospital bed and we took our first photo as the Svendsen family?

My-oh-my, is it even possible to have so many good days?

To my dear husband, partner, friend, lover and fellow parent on our second wedding anniversary… I remember all these days and so many more.

And I’m still insanely crazy about you.

With all my love,
Your Wife.

For better or for worse

There’s a long list of people out there who say that having kids changed their marriage forever. And they’re usually none too positive when they say it, seemingly hoping to travel back in time and remain childless if the opportunity were available. “Don’t get us wrong, we love our kid(s),” they all insist. “But…..”

And there it is – the BUT heard ‘round the world. The BUT that only married people with kids can understand. The BUT that scares couples everywhere away from the baby path.

Here’s my thinking – there’s really no way for a marriage not to change when a little one comes along. It’s an entirely different life, made up of three people rather than just two. It’s a threesome (or foursome, or fivesome…) for all eternity. I think anyone would find an eternal threesome a difficult relationship to manage.

Before having children, a marriage is pretty black and white. Every month at work, you receive a salary to confirm that you’re doing your job correctly. You have rational, adult conversations with rational, adult people and decisions are made, well – rationally. And then you come home, and you have all your free time to spend doing exactly what the two of you love to do together.

It’s simple. It’s easy. It’s your own.

Things inevitably change when you invite a third person to the party. 80% of your days are like your good days at work – and when they’re good, trust me, they’re really, really good. Your child does something simple, which seems extraordinary to you, and you smile lovingly across the table at your spouse. You both smile a lot on those days, and you feel closer to this family unit you’ve created than you ever imagined. You’re bound deeply together by a miniature package of extraordinariness. This is how children change a marriage for the better.

You don’t always hear that side of the story, and that’s a shame.

More often, you hear about the other 20%. On those days, you’re dealing with an irrational boss who refuses to issue clear instructions, and who just does whatever they damn well please. On these days, you’re moody and almost definitely short-tempered. You feel like a failure in one way or another, or maybe in a hundred ways all together. It’s been a bad day at work for one or both of you – there’s tension in the air, one or both of you is pissed off, and angry words may be spoken.

It happens. For better or for worse.

At Casa Svendsen, we’ve definitely had an 80/20 split over the past year. There is truly a domino effect of emotional happiness in our house, which begins with the smallest (and yet most powerful) one among us. When Per Christian has a good day, then so does Mommy. There are lots of giggles and silly stories to share in the evening. Pappa comes home to a happy house and is, by extension, also happy.

The opposite curve works the same way in reverse – a grumpy baby leads to a grumpy Mommy, who feels exhausted and run down by the end of the day. I then, of course, take it all out on Per when he walks in the door. On these days, Pappa has to bear the brunt of all my own feelings of maternal inadequacy because our son is too young to shoulder such burdens.

Luckily for us all, Per errs on the less emotional end of the spectrum and realizes, quite rationally, that whatever troubles await him at home shall soon pass. Per Christian won’t always be so small and require so much work. I won’t always be home alone caring for him. We won’t always find him such a mystery to understand or feel ourselves to be so helpless – although I do expect that we’ll always feel entirely inadequate for the task.

Is it all worth it, you wonder? The simple answer is “yes,” but the more honest answer is “not always.” Here’s the thing – despite the challenges of the 20%, I really, really don’t want a time machine (most of the time). I would not give up my son for all the free time in the world (most of the time). Yes, I’m tired and yes, I do miss my former ability to impersonate a calm, rational adult. And of course I miss our carefree days alone, drinking Prosecco for breakfast on a lazy Saturday morning, as opposed to venting on my husband all my furies after a difficult day of tending to our meatloaf.

But my son is a part of me, taken directly out of my body and walking (stumbling, actually…) around in real life right before my very eyes. How miraculous is that? I can watch him and see reflections in him of both my husband and me. He is an extraordinary being; I can find no other words for it. And when I see my son in this light, I know that I love my husband and my family down to my deepest, darkest core.

So yes, children change a marriage, there’s no way around it. We lose our tempers more often and are made to bear more responsibility than we could ever previously imagine. We will never, ever again get to be selfish and think about only ourselves. Our threesome is here to stay, and all the subtleties of joining three separate people into one loving family unit have to be managed with care.

There are 20% of hard times for our unit, when my husband has to play the roll of punching bag because the real criminal agent is too young to understand Mommy’s frustrations.

But then there are 80% of really great times, when I walk in the door and see my son literally bouncing with excitement over my arrival. And then I see my husband standing right behind him, with an equally large smile on his face. We’re a family, and we’re so very blessed.

That’s just how a marriage with children works. For better or for worse.