Friends

I hate to admit this, but it's been awhile, so I'm going to...
Growing up, I had two imaginary friends.
I don't know how everyone elses imaginary friends start, because the name imaginary sort of implies you built them from scratch in your own mind. But mine began with a tragic story. Queue flashback...
I am the youngest of 4 kids, the only girl, with the closest sibling still being 5 years older than me. It was a lonely life. I remember begging my mom to play dollhouse with me, and whenever she was too busy, I'd run to my room yelling, "You're going to regret this one day when I grow up!" And you know what? She did.

One day I had been dragged along to one of my brothers Junior Jazz basketball games. As if sports weren't boring enough, I was supposed to sit on those bleachers and patiently watch ten year old boys chase a ball around. No thanks. If my 23 year old self can't handle that, you best bet my 5 year old self wasn't all over it.
Then, like angels appearing from heaven itself, I saw them: two little girls, about my age, playing just a few rows above us in the bleachers. And they were having so much fun together. Oh, what joy it must have been to have a sister! I made my decision then and there: I WAS going to be friends with those girls.
Unfortunately, I was a pretty shy little girl (when I wasn't threatening my mom for her neglect) so I knew I couldn't just go up there by myself. The obvious answer was to be escorted by my mom. Sadly, she wasn't having it.
"Please go with me so I can play with those girls!"
"No."
"You can play with their mom!"
"No." (Because SHE had sisters. SHE didn't need any more friends.)
"Please! I'll eat tacos and not even cry!"
"No you won't. Sit down and watch the game." Game? Was this supposed to be entertaining?
I'd like to say I summoned all my 5 year old courage, walked up to those girls, and we became lifelong friends. But sadly, that is not the case. Instead, I spent the rest of the game whining in my mother's ear to no avail.
However, there is an upside to the story, (sorta?) because those two girls became my new imaginary friends. The younger one, the brunette with the short pigtails, was named Noel, because that is what all my dolls were named and I'm pretty sure I didn't know any other names. Her big sister, with the long blond pigtails (I think I only knew one hairstyle too) was, obviously, named Biggie.
Biggie and Noel went everywhere with me. When my mom didn't want to play dollhouse with me, no problem! I no longer felt the need to guilt trip her, because I had two best friends to play with me! They were fun, they always wanted to do what I wanted to do, and they went home the second I was tired of them. It was a dream.
Finally, I grew up and got more friends. My cousin Allie moved closer, and she didn't have a sister either so we'd pretend to be each others sisters while we made perfume out of rose petals (doesn't work, by the way) and gave each other gel pen tattoos. I started school and made even more friends, and even though they weren't perfect, we had a lot of fun times together.

Now, flash forward a few years, and I meet my husband Caleb. Caleb has a lot of good friends, but he has 3 best friends in particular, and they have been friends since Elementary School. They are what everyone wants but what, for some reason, boys only ever seem to find.

What is with us girls? Why can't we form lifelong friendships too? Is it just me? Did Biggie and Noel give me unrealistic expectations for my friendships?
Throughout school, it seemed like most of my friendships changed on a yearly basis, depending on who was in my class and who liked the same things I liked.
But the worst part was I never seemed to deal with it very well.
I was always the friend who tried desperately to keep in touch with all my old friends. I'd send them a text with a little inside joke to remind them of the good old days. I'd do everything I could to stay friends with them, and then I'd get frustrated when the courtesy wasn't returned. I always stuck dutifully to the mantra Make new friends, but keep the old. One is silver and the other Gold.
Isn't that beautiful? Sniff, sniff.

There's a flaw with that mantra, and it's this: we are human. We are imperfect, and we change. Sometimes, more often than not, we grow in separate directions. And when that happens, it's ok to let go. It's ok to drop that small thread of friendship you've been clinging to for reasons you forgot years ago. It doesn't mean you have to ignore each other if you ever happen to bump into each other, it just means you don't have to force something that isn't there anymore.

I finally realized I was really getting myself down about friendships that had deteriorated over the years, so much so that I wasn't appreciating the wonderful friendships I have in my life today. Friendships with people who I have things in common with, people who I can see all the time and who make an effort to keep up our friendship on their end too.
We can't all have friendships like Caleb did, although if I'm honest, I do have friends I've had since Elementary school that I hope I'll always be in touch with, even if we go years in between seeing each other. The important thing is that you're honest with yourself about what you want, and what you deserve in your friendships. If I had never let go of Biggie and Noel, I would be the weirdo walking around talking to her two invisible friends, still bitter about not having a sister.
Ok, I'm still a little bitter about the sister thing. 
But the friends? I can safely say where I stand today... I've won the jackpot.

#sorrynotsorry

Can we just talk about the Hashtag for a minute?

Seriously. I know this is a tough topic for everyone, considering we are all so distinctly on one side or another. (The sides, of course, being absolute hatred of the hashtag and/
or utter bewilderment and confusion, and adoring the hashtag to the extent that it's starting to take over your life.) This may be hard to hear, but you know me... I like to deal with the difficult issues. If you find yourself falling into the latter category, please: consider this your hashtag intervention.

I remember a time when a simple # was the symbol for number and nothing more. Now, we say number to acknowledge a wide variety of things. It's sort of the virtual version of not shutting up. Where once we could post a picture with a simple caption My sister and I on Spring Break! we now feel the need to follow that information up with every possible question someone could ask about the picture. Wait, did you say Spring Break? #SpringBreak I'm confused, Spring Break of what year? #2014yo HOLD UP I thought you were a natural brunette? #RockinTheBlond But...but...what is that body of water behind you....? #ocean And those winged creatures? #birds And what did you have for lunch that day? #Justatepizza #sofull #hatemyself 

We have Twitter to blame, but I say more power to 'em for coming up with something new. I mean, congratulations. It really caught on. The problem wasn't when people were hashtagging on Twitter... the problem was when it started to invade all other social media, where it didn't even work, and in turn the rest of our lives.

You know how people like to write on the freeway overpass with cups? Welcome Home Elder So and So, I love you Blah Blah, etc? Well, I kid you not, I have seen some of those with HASHTAGS. AND SIDEWAYS SMILEYS! :) <--- Are people really not aware that the sideways smiley is a thing because it's all we used to be able to do on computers? Am I the only one who remembers when all you could do on your computer was play Minesweeper and draw one of these bad boys on Paint?

My point being, why oh why could you not do a regular, right-side-up smiley face in the real world?

See, there's a problem with hashtags that goes far beyond my sheer annoyance with them, and it is this: it opens up a whole new world of communication, while also leaving us completely limited with what we can do with it. Which is why I propose OtherTags: tags we can use in social media and OF COURSE real life in order to more effectively communicate:

* The Sarcasm Tag: Used to convey sarcasm in any statement. Ex: *GoodGoingHotShot. This one is particularly useful for people like me, who use sarcasm about as often as not, and have felt the pain of people  not fully grasping your sarcastic ways.

% The Drama Tag: Used to convey intensity and drama in your posts. Ex: %MYLIFEISOVER. This one will be extremely useful for all the people begging for attention. Wait, what? I didn't say that.

$ The Poor Tag: Used to accept donations from friends. $BringOnTheMoney, I'm broke.

! The Warning Tag: Used to warn others that your posts sole intention was to cause conflict among your Facebook friends. Ex: !GirlsCan'tPlaySports. This way, I can avoid reading the next 25 responses of arguments because let's face it, once you start reading them, you can't look away.

And feel free to use these new OtherTags simultaneously, and alongside the hashtag. For example, rather than just telling us all that you went to the gym, tell us with some flair! #GymminItUp *I'mSObuff !MyMusclesAreBiggerThanYours%

I say if we're gonna do this Hashtag thing, let's do it right.

But really, people. Haven't you ever looked at a picture of your mom in the 70's and laughed at her hair and shirt and wallpaper and shag carpet? Don't you think, someday, your kids will be looking you up online and see all your obnoxious posts with all the unnecessary hashtags and think the same thing you did about your mom's Farrah Fawcett hairstyle? Are we going to let hashtags become our own personal shag carpet?

The hashtag is like our money: the only thing backing it is our belief that it means something. Maybe it's the writer in me, but I couldn't stay silent any longer. Use full sentences. You weren't raised in a barn.

#jkguys
#nobigdeal
#i'mnotthebossofyou
#butseehowunintelligentthislooks
#srsly

The Fallacy of Newlywed...ness

    The other day, I was telling someone some story about Caleb and I, and they laughed and rolled their eyes and said, "Oh, you two are obviously still newlyweds." It made me stop and think because for one, no we're not. And for another, this person was shocked that Caleb and I are so nice to each other. That, obviously, is something that will go away with time. When we're done being newlyweds, and on to truly despising eachother, as we should be.
    I posted a link to this blog post the other day because it was something I've been wanting to write about, but of course he just says it so much better than I ever could. It basically just talks about how we all have this idea that men should respect their wives, but it doesn't work the other way around. I remember right after we got married, a lot of people asking Caleb, "So has she left you yet?" "Has she gone running home to her Mom yet?" Or some other equally insulting variation of that. Even though they were clearly kidding, it was a little bit strange that so many people asked him, yet nobody joked about that with me. Because, see, as the wife, when I got married I became burdened by this goofy, lazy oaf of a man who does nothing but drive me crazy as I cook for him and clean up after him and work hard so he can sit on the couch and watch the game.
I don't know how this started, but I'd say sitcoms are a safe bet.

According to TV, husbands are lazy and useless, and do nothing but sit around and drink beer all day. But that's ok, because this husband is married to a wife who is profoundly more intelligent than he is. She is left to micromanage every aspect of his life: his hobbies, his friendships, his career. When he inevitably messes things up like the big buffoon that he is, she steps in and makes everything better, and it's all just so darn entertaining.
    I hate to get on my soap box over something so trivial, but I can't help but feel a little bit offended for my husband, for husbands everywhere. What's worse, is it doesn't stay on TV. When we are bombarded with these images, we tend to become them. I can't tell you how many men I've seen fall into that role simply because they felt that's who they were supposed to become. Or how many women I've seen belittle their husbands with no regard for their feelings because they feel embarrassed by every little thing they do. I have all too often heard people say their husband is just like another one of their children.
     (Sidenote: I saw a meme about this on Pinterest the other day, so I was searching for the picture and accidentally stumbled across an article titled: "10 Reasons Your Husband is Just Another Child." It was full of such gems as "He gets hungry on long car rides and you have to give him snacks from your purse." and "You have to remind him where things go in the kitchen." Thank you for proving my point, Google.)

   We have to change our way of thinking. How is it ok that we demand respect from men, but don't feel any reason we should have to give it in return? 
   That was just my little segue into the other issue the comment mentioned earlier made me think about: this fallacy of being "newlyweds" or in the "honeymoon stage" of your relationship. I won't say it doesn't exist: being newlyweds is obviously very different than when you've been married a year, or five, or twenty. But that's only because of the newness. You appreciate each other more. You notice the little things in everyday more, the things that slowly go away or seem less important as you fall into a routine together.
Caleb and I love are a little bit obsessed with How I Met Your Mother.

    In one of the early episodes, Lily is upset because she's afraid she and Marshall have run out of "firsts." They've been together for years, and a lot of the newness is gone. I have to say, I would have been jumping up and down and cheering at this point. Maybe I'm weird, but man do I hate that newness. I hate first dates, I hate feeling uncomfortable or not myself. And man I hate getting dressed up everytime, worrying he'll come over early and see you without makeup, worrying you'll accidentally burp if you drink soda, accidentally burping when you drink soda. (Nooo, I'm not speaking from experience here. What?) I much prefer the closeness that comes with a long relationship. I can truthfully say Caleb is my best friend, and I'd take that over a first kiss with someone any day. 
   Still, I have felt the way Lily did myself from time to time. Not necessarily wanting a brand-new relationship all over again, but also wanting to avoid becoming an old couple that doesn't like each other anymore. Yes, I've felt like there was no in between. But then I realized something.

  When you're with someone long enough, your relationship is bound to change. But rather than focusing on the ways you've grown apart, why not focus on the ways you've grown together? Sure, you might fall asleep at night with a foot and a half of space between you, but before you fell asleep did you stay up late talking about your day? Do you dream about your life together, your shared goals? Do you congratulate each other on wins, and console each other during losses?

  I was blissfully in love the day we got married, but I had no idea what was in store for us. All I knew was we were both in it for the long haul, I had finally found someone I could spend forever with, someone who would love me unconditionally, through thick and thin. I thought I understood that. I was ready to commit, promise I'd be there for him too. But our first year of marriage really put it into action. It's one thing to say you'll love someone unconditionally, it's another thing to really love someone unconditionally. We went through so many ups and downs our first year of marriage. We disagreed about things. I got upset about dirty dishes. We stayed up too late and were too tired the next day. We did big things too: we bought our first home. We got a puppy. I got a new job. We lost a baby. All those things did so much more than bond us. They knit us slowly together into the family we agreed to become the day we got married.
  It's not going to be easy. You're going to drive each other crazy sometimes. But you don't have to get rid of all that "newlywed"-ness. You don't have to talk down to your husband just because he's your husband and you can. He doesn't have to spend all day in front of the TV just because you expect it. You don't have to become the couples you see every day on TV who treat each other badly and don't have an ounce of respect between them. Those couples are a dime a dozen. Instead, treat each other the way you did on your wedding day. Speak kindly. Hug them for no reason. Treat them like they are the greatest gift you've ever been given, not some burden weighing you down.
  You don't have to be a newlywed to act like one. And don't let anybody tell you that you should wish you were one again: all the ups and downs you've been through together since then are so much more bonding than that feeling ever was.

Why You're Never Going to be Happy

We girls do this weird thing to ourselves where we pick a person, or a few people, and compare every flaw of ours to every perfection of theirs.
Think you're not guilty of this? What about the last time you sat on Facebook, scrolling through someone's pictures, wondering why her hair is always so perfect, or why her kids seem so well behaved, or why her life seems so awesome.
For me, it was a girl my friends and I idolized for the last few years. She has really successful business with her husband, and is just all around awesome. We would watch all her pictures and videos and say, "Why can't we be like her?" She posted a picture the other day of her, skinny as a pole with a perfect round baby bump, standing on a balcony in LA. Everything about the picture made me envious. She was skinny, she was pregnant, she was in LA. But there was more, of course. It looked early in the morning, and she was already ready, so clearly she was more of a morning person than me. She could afford to just go to LA on a whim. Her clothes were cute. She was perfect, and I was, in every possible way, failing to reach the potential perfectness that she has already accomplished.
My friends in High School did the same thing with this older girl who was also from Brigham. Apparently when she graduated, she did everything right, became as perfect as can be, and an idol for us younger girls. I never really understood the obsession. Whenever they'd go off on the cute way she dressed or how handsome her husband was, I just sat there confused as to why she had become the goal we were all trying to reach.
The problem with this thinking, especially nowadays, is that we're comparing apples to oranges. Not even that, we're comparing apples to raccoons. Our real lives are not and will not ever be like someones fake instagram life.
Facebook and Instagram have become like a strange form of bullying among girls. We post pictures and statuses of only the best, most perfect moments of our lives. We look amazing and happy in the pictures, we're surrounded by friends and loved ones, our houses are perfectly clean and even though it's 2:00 on a Wednesday, none of us have jobs tying us down. We don't discuss financial troubles or marital problems or any problems, for that matter. And without even realizing it, we are setting completely unrealistic goals for the girls who are looking to us, wondering why they can't reach what we've reached.
It's absurd. No one is perfect. Do you really know anyone in your real life who is completely perfect in every way? Someone that you would trade everything you are to be like them? Once we get close enough to people, we see that things aren't nearly as perfect as they seem online.
After I saw that picture in LA, I realized I spent the next twenty minutes or so beating myself up about where I was at in life, and wishing I had half the things she had. But then I realized how crazy I was being. This was a girl I've never even met. I thought I knew her through her posts and pictures, but that's impossible. I was already planning ways to be more like her, and all that could do was set me up to inevitably fall short, feel worse about myself, and spiral down into the abyss of "I'm not and will not ever be good enough."
So instead, let's look at the facts. There are a lot of things I'm good at, and I honestly and truly love my life. Instead of looking at someone else as my twisted, distorted, online role model, why don't I look to myself and try to see myself the way others see me, online at least? What are the good things that I have to offer, the things that people are desperately hoping to find that I've already accomplished?
Better yet, why don't I find a real-life, living and breathing role model? If you absolutely have to compare yourself to someone, compare yourself to someones real life. Instagram is like People magazine. It gives us a glimpse into someones life without showing the real picture. Just like a practiced celebrity isn't going to go to the store without her cutest shorts and sunglasses on, so are the instagrammers of our lives not going to snap a picture until they look absolutely perfect.
I'm sorry to break the illusion that we've all been carefully putting together online, but I've seen it more and more lately among my friends and among myself, and it has to stop. It leads to a road of self-destruction and self-loathing. I'm not suggesting that we never try to better ourselves, just that we start living in reality instead of solely online.

And another issue: Modesty

Recently there have been a lot of posts about how Mormons view Modesty. Even from fellow Mormons, it seems there is a broad misconception out there. I can't find the article I read the other night, but the general gist was this: Women in the church are confused, because we are supposed to dress "sexy" enough to get a man, but modest enough to get a man who is a nice, worthy priesthood holder who doesn't like girls who dress immodestly. Apparently, us girls are lost and confused because we just don't know how to walk the fine line between beauty, and the ugliness that is modesty.
I was pretty surprised at what a big deal it was. I don't claim to be perfect, but the church's guidelines for modesty, unlike a schools or workplace, have always been very clear. After you go through the temple, it's even more simple: cover your garments. It's like drawing with a connect-the-dots. It really doesn't leave much up for discussion.
Let's go back a little bit here and let me just say: I get it. I get the pressure that we are supposed to dress a certain way to "be hot". However, that pressure does not AT ALL come from the church, it comes from the world. And the thing is, we know it's true. Despite anything you believe, no one is comfortable when they are dressed immodestly. You feel exposed. You feel like you're on TV and everyone is watching you. You feel like you need to keep "fixing" yourself (pulling your shirt down, fixing the sleeve length) because you're so uncomfortable.
All of this is general knowledge, but last year I uncovered a new layer to modesty that I had never understood before. Caleb and I were at a drive-in getting some food, and our waitress came over wearing short shorts and a low-cut shirt. I didn't think much of it until she leaned over to talk to us, and her shirt fell, leaving little to the imagination. This was obviously not the first time something like this had ever happened to me, but it was the first time since I'd been married. The second it happened, my blood started to boil. Now don't get me wrong, Caleb is NOT the type to have looked, and when I asked him about it later he had no idea it had even happened, but I was still so angry with the girl. Suddenly, she wasn't dressing to keep herself cool at work. She wasn't dressing to impress her friends, her boyfriend, or other boys. She was, in that moment, dressing for my husband's attention. Suddenly, all the times in my life that I had heard I should dress modestly came rushing back: is this what I was doing every time I stepped outside showing a little too much skin? Whether we intend to or not, when we dress in the morning, we are dressing, specifically, for each and every person we see that day. For our friends, our families, strangers in the store, other people's husbands or boyfriends, people we see at work, little girls who look up to us. And they are all looking at you and whatever you are exposing because you're putting it up on a pedestal for all to see.
There is a thing in Child Development studies that happens in Young Adults called Imaginary Audience. Remember in Middle School feeling like everyone was watching you all the time, when really everyone was too focused on themselves to notice anyone else? Well when you dress immodestly, you get that same feeling, except this time, your audience is anything but imaginary.
I wasn't a girl who liked to wear short shorts, as I just never felt confident enough in them. But I still remember arguing that tank tops weren't that bad, who cares if someone sees my shoulders? And all my mormon friends were wearing short shorts, so why not me?
I thought I understood. We've all heard the reasons. But that day was the day I realized the ultimate one for me: I don't want other women dressing to catch my husbands attention, and I don't want attention from anyone but my husband. So despite what that article said, No girls aren't asking for it when they dress a certain way and get treated a certain way because of it. We all have the choice. But I think it would have changed my mind to realize what I was actually doing when I dressed that way and stepped out into the world every day.

Beauty

About a year and a half ago, I had the awesome experience of being a counselor at Retreat for Girls. The counselors are all 18-23ish, single girls, and each of us were paired with 12 girls, aged 11-15. My group were all 13-15. Retreat was and is one of my favorite memories. I grew so much, and still love each one of the girls in my group!

During my two weeks at Retreat, I got really close with each of the girls. I thought that because I was only a few years older than all of them, I remembered what it was like to be their age. I had lived it, I survived. I could be a big help to them! I was pretty surprised to find out how much I had forgotten in the years since I escaped High School.

Primarily, how much Beauty matters back then.

So this is to each of those girls, and to any other girl, in the hopes that your experience will be better than mine.

Now, I won't be so bold as to say it doesn't matter now. Of course it matters. I worry every day about how I look, otherwise I would never bother to do my hair or put on makeup. But at that age, it's an obsession. It's on your mind almost constantly, especially while you are in school. It's all you think about, you worry yourself sick about your bony knees or your ghostly white skin or your zits even though everyone has them or how your hair is too poofy or your clothes aren't what's "in". You worry so much, that you fail to see yourself as you really are.

One of the girls in my group said during a devotional one night that she loved to come to Retreat because she always felt beautiful there. Why was that? Well, partly because Retreat is all girls, and the only boys you see for the entire week were the director's families, and the boys we passed from EFY. (Which they were forbidden to talk to, or I would shout things like, "How is that rash of yours clearing up?" I am going to be such an embarrassing mom.) But I think the biggest reason she, and the other girls (myself included) felt beautiful at Retreat was because we all felt loved. We started every morning with a devotional and scripture study, said prayers at every meal, and spent all afternoon listening to gospel-centered talks. It was hard not to be on a spiritual high 24/7, even as exhausted as we were. I learned that when the Spirit is with you that strong, the things of the world really do fall away. Because we know that Heavenly Father doesn't care what we look like. He would never send us away or forbid us blessings because our mascara is clumped or our teeth are crooked. 

It broke my heart to send my girls back out into the real world. In the year and a half since then, I have watched them grow, turn 16 and start dating. I have watched some of the things they post online. Some of them make me beam with pride (seriously, SUCH an embarrassing mom) and some make me cringe. But I know how they feel. We are all living in a world that demands that we be beautiful. We can never be completely satisfied with the way we look, because someone will always look just a little bit better than us. 

And beyond that, I can promise you that you do not see yourself the way others see you. All those self conscious girls in my groups, and I would have killed to look like any of them. Look at the people around you. Why do they all seem just a little bit more perfect than you? Do you really think none of them look at themselves and wish they looked like you? I promise you, they do.

To top it off, the more we worry about ourselves, the more self conscious we make others. I see girls who are much more tan than I am obsessing about their pale skin, and all I can think is how white I must look in their eyes. I see girls post super-photoshopped pictures in their newest, cutest, most expensive outfits, and my heart sinks. Why don't I have as much money as her? Why won't my hair do what hers does? And I can tell you, I would much rather be jealous of someone because of the fun trip they took, or the lifetime dream they achieved, than because of the outfit they're wearing.

I'm talking to you, everyday-selfie-takers.

To my girls and any girls going through the rough Middle and High School years... it gets better. But don't let it get you down now. I promise you the day will come when you will see a picture of yourself today and think, "Wow, I looked really good!" You may not see it now. You may be so blinded by your little imperfections that you can't see yourself the way God sees you, or even the way others see you. But if you just try to forget about those things, take a step back and decide that you are happy with yourself the way you are, I can tell you from experience THAT is where you will find true happiness. Not at the end of a 5 mile run on a treadmill. Not at the bottom of a crazy hair cut. Not after a long shopping spree. But right where you are, right now, perfect as can be.

Who You Marry Matters

When Caleb and I were dating, we spent a lot of time at his parents house playing the Wii. Although I preferred the "girly" games that didn't show off my lack of gaming skills, eventually we'd get tired of tennis and bowling and basketball and he'd want to play Super Mario Brothers.

Now don't get me wrong, I can hold my own when it comes to ATV Offroad Fury 2 (yes, it HAS to be 2), Tony Hawk, or Twisted Metal, and very few people on the planet can beat me at SingStar. (Sensing a theme here? We had a PS2, and that's about as far as my gaming skills go.)  And although I realized SuperMario Brothers isn't a super difficult game, I still struggle. Bad. I am just not coordinated enough to run, steer, and jump on that 2D plane, and when those giant Venus Fly Traps on steroids start biting at you, I just panic too much to reasonably handle the situation.

It's ok, I'm not upset. I'm good at other things. And hang in there, because I DO have a point.

The point is, we would eventually end up playing this game and all I would do was drag us down. It didn't take long for Caleb to figure out that I wasn't going to be the turtle-fighting companion one desperately needs in the Nintendo world. I wasn't the Luigi to his Mario. It was enough to break up any good relationship.

If Caleb was any other guy I've ever dated, things at this point would have gone one of two ways:

1) He would demand that we spend the next several months practicing until our fingers ached. He would yell, mumble, and roll his eyes whenever I somehow missed that jump and fell to my death. He would be frustrated that this is not an area I excel in.

OR

2) He would go back, turn the game to 1 player, and suggest that I watch him play, or maybe go make him some cookies while he plays, because he "needs to beat that level."

Instead, he did something completely unexpected. Caleb figured out how to pick me up (I should note, this function is supposed to be used to pick up someone and then throw them) and he carried me through the whole level. I was in a serious fit of hysterics watching this cute, tiny Mario carry cute, tiny Toad to safety. At the very beginning of the level, he would run to me, pick me up, and then proceed to make it through the rest of the level with me sitting on his little mustached head.

I realize you can take this story many ways: the serious gamer is probably appalled that I would give him such a gamer's handicap, but I think it perfectly describes my marriage, and why I fell in love with Caleb in the first place. First and foremost, he takes care of me. He never complains about how much harder I make things for him, he just wants me there, along for the ride.

There was a time I thought I would never be able to end up with someone like Caleb. I dated someone for almost 2 years who only treated me good for maybe 2 weeks of that relationship. Then, one day, I was sitting in Testimony meeting and this younger guy in our ward stood up to bear his testimony. He had this cute wife and a bunch of darling kids, and he spoke about them with such love. I watched him and my heart sunk, and I distinctly remember thinking, "I'll never have that, because I'm with so-and-so." As soon as that thought hit me, it was like I was lifted out of a two-year trance. I suddenly realized how much I was settling, and how poor my self-esteem must have become to stay with someone like him despite how unhappy I was. After we broke up, I went through my "I don't want to get married" phase, which every 20-something girl these days at least pretends to have, and I dated a few more not-the-ones before Caleb came along. I remember thinking that I could never trust someone enough to marry them, because every boy before had broken my trust. I had a lot of ridiculous relationships that are the topic of another blog post, someday. But I just couldn't imagine there was a guy out there worth all the trouble. 

Well, Caleb was worth all that trouble and then some. I know this is the most cliche thing I could possibly say, but he really did make all those bad relationships worth it. I can't tell you how many times a day I just stop in wonder at how I ended up with someone so great. Our relationship is one of my favorite things about my life: I love the way we talk to each other, the way we don't fight, the kindness we have toward each other.

Here is my other point: the sanctity of marriage is, and has been for some time now, under attack. What I have is not what we are supposed to want anymore. You are supposed to want a career, money, and a life of being single. A marriage isn't about a marriage, it's about a wedding. Little girls grow up dreaming of their wedding, a brief, one-day affair that is over before you can have a slice of your own cake.

The other day I saw this David's Bridal Commercial that kind of shocked me. I get that they are just trying to sell dresses here, but it so perfectly describes the way we view weddings these days: it's all about the bride. She's the Princess, and everybody better bow down to her. The wedding isn't about him it's not even about both of them it's about her. No wonder the divorce rate is so high.

I remember when I was younger asking my mom something about her wedding, if she was nervous or something along those lines. What she told me is something I have never forgotten. She said, "I just couldn't wait for the wedding to be over. The wedding was just an obstacle to get to him." I just thought that was the cutest, most romantic thing I've ever heard. And whether I realized it or not, I think it profoundly affected my own wedding day.

Don't get me wrong, I loved our wedding day. I have very fond memories. But the days that have happened since then have all been exponentially better. I am so glad that I never stressed myself out about wedding plans, I'm glad I didn't ask our parents to spend a fortune or alienate lifelong friends so they would wear the dresses I picked for them. Our wedding was a party, a celebration, the day we became a family.

Marriage isn't about choosing the "hottest" person who will choose you. It's not about giving up your dreams or your career to become a housewife who drives her 10 kids to soccer practice in a minivan. It's not about having a spectacular celebration where you are the highlight of the whole day. It's about finding someone to spend the rest of your life with. Someone who sees you without makeup and doesn't even see a difference. Someone who will pick you up, even when you're being nothing but a burden, and carry you past all the flying turtle shells to the finish line.