Why We Work

**For Valentine's Day this year, Bon from The Life of Bon and Taylor of The Daily Tay, got a link-up together for all of us romantics to write about why our relationships work. 

Great idea, and one I was going to skip, until I actually started to think about it.** 

Sometime this fall Peyton and I took personality tests and came out virtual opposites. While I was ESFJ (extrovert-sensing-feeling-judging) he was ENTP (extrovert-intuiting-thinking-perceiving). Basically, I'm a provider and he's an inventor. I'm all about relating and personal connections while he is centered on logic and envisioning.

We then took another test that was flying around Facebook a month ago, the iPersonic (take it if you haven't!), and got the same results. His title was "Groundbreaking Thinker" while mine was "Social Realist." Reliability is my number one, and it isn't even on his radar. He goes for innovation while I am all about tradition. His profile even said "it is often a challenge to have a long-term relationship with a Groundbreaking Thinker" while I'm, well... me. So there ya go- opposites attract. And we are about as different as can be.

But how exactly did I end up with someone who on occasion manages to be the most infuriating human I've yet encountered?

Or who is clearly on a different wavelength at vital moments when I wish he wasn't?

Or who has the ability to make me want to scream and run and wave my arms violently?

Welp, I think it comes down to a few simple things.

We are extroverts. We like people. We like company. We are comfortable in nearly any environment and don't have to deal with each other's anxieties that we just can't understand. I've dated some great guys, but none were extroverts, and it is truly refreshing to be with someone who just gets that basic bit of who I am.

We have similar core values. We are honest. We are kind. We enjoy helping others and truly care about the well-being of the world. I'm not trying to say that we are amazing (...we are) but I just find that these core similarities are oh so important when it seems like nearly everything about us is opposite.

We have strong senses of self. Which often times sucks, especially when we are battling each other. We both know who we are extremely well and are confident in our opinions. And when we don't agree? It hurts and escalates far too fast. But in the end, I think that from this comes a level of respect. Neither of us is a push-over and neither is faking it for the other. We present our real selves to love or leave, and we both choose to love.

We are relaxed. Not all the time, but in our day-to-day interactions and choices we stay pretty cool and collected. This helps drastically in parenting and keeps us on or around the same page. It also allows us to enjoy sitting at home night after night because we don't have to worry that we're missing out on the next best thing. We both know that there will always be another.

We laugh. Kind of goes with the relaxed thing, but it's possibly more important. Laughter is our glue, and we are both able to laugh heartily and often. At each other and ourselves. Both are vital.

We are both committed. And there's nothing like knowing the person you've gone through emotional roller coasters for is on board to do the same for you. It gives the most supportive sense of freedom.

Our differences often balance out. (Often being the imperative word). I'm punctual; he's far from it. He's a perfectionist when it comes to prep work; I'm sloppy as all get-out. He can listen; I can talk. I go feelings; he goes logic. And while sometimes these things don't always gel beautifully (or even at all), they often do. We fill in each other's spaces.


And of course, the most important thing of all...


We enjoy each other's company. Day after day, year after year, there is no one I would rather spend the bulk of my time with. There are certainly down times, but the majority of the time I am my happiest and most at ease with him. And while I can't say for certain that he'd say the same of me, I took to heart what he told me recently --

that I am, ahem, 

"the only woman that [he] would have met in [his] lifetime that [he] could have married." 

(aaaand cue the collective awww. or barfing...) 

And while those might be just words for lots of people out there, the fact that he was a confirmed bachelor for a veeery long time makes me believe it to be true. He wasn't going to settle. It's simply not in his iPersonic type.

So love you long time, P. 

For these (and many more) reasons.

{AllyElleCards on Etsy. Buy it. You know you have to.}

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Stay

Blog Every Day in May

Day 25/31 - Something someone told you about yourself that you'll never forget.

There they stood. Two people in a crowd. Two people drawn together by life, tied together by kisses, and wondering what the future held. She was one for words, oodles of words that could take up pages and fill up rooms. He was one for actions, time being the very best gift.

The Austin skyline lit their view standing on that rooftop deck. It was his city; she was just testing the waters. She had needed change, a little shaking up. New people, new experiences, a new opportunity to wipe it all clean and start over. So she moved. With a car and a dog and a trunk full of goods, she crossed the country with hopes to find whatever it was she was looking for.

She wasn't sure what she had found, but she was sure she was happy. It had been right, that much she knew. But he wasn't clear. He held her, he kissed her, his eyes smiled every time they met hers, but he wasn't ready to commit. He wasn't ready to take that leap, to lay his cards down to let her see. He was cautious. He was quiet. He was logical, but love defies logic.

So that night, that clear, warm, August night, when he pulled her to him as though she was his, she couldn't help but smile. It felt right. This night felt right. He'd realize it too, it was in those cards.

"I hope you'll stay. I hope you'll stay for a while."

Not an I love you, not even a commitment, but enough of his heart to show that she was right where she was meant to be. And that this place that had called her to it was indeed exactly what she'd been looking for.

**Linking to On Your Heart and Just Write.**

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The Twenty-Fourth Gauntlet

you know why I'm here.
Day 24/31- Your top three worst traits. 

I asked Peyton what my three worst traits were. With far too much speed and a bit too much fervor, he had them written down and was chomping at the bit to let me have it.

"Nag.








Nag.








Nag."

Whatever.

I then made sure he knew that quality sleep combats grouchiness.

And plenty of water is calming as well.

Plus exercise. Lots of exercise.

But I digress...

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A Rant and A Scaphoid... What?

Day 22/31 - Rant about something. Get up on your soapbox and tell us how you really feel. 

*Disclaimer: This rant will be kept short and sweet because I have more important things on my blog agenda today. Three in fact, so stick around.*

Friends-

There are many reasons to hate insurance companies- many, many, MANY- but right now I'd like to talk about the fact that they can choose whether or not to offer maternity benefits. And that the entire state of Texas has opted OUT of offering any benefits. So basically, if you get pregnant in Texas without group coverage from a job, you are SOL, my friends, S.O.L. 

Why had I not known this before? Why were women and men and politicians and children's rights advocates not banging down doors to get it? Pro-life or pro-choice, this should matter. This should be a unifying fight. Women's health matters, fetus' health matters, and I'm not even asking for it to be covered for all as a basic human right. I'm just asking for insurance companies to OFFER to have it covered, you know, because the whole being pregnant thing is kind of important to sustain the human race. I'm pretty sure Texas isn't doing this for population control, either...

My husband is a contractor. His industry has made drastic shifts to this employment method. It's great in some ways, and sucks in others. But the worst suckage is them making it apparent that we shouldn't have another baby, because a healthy delivery will cost $15,000. And that's HEALTHY. uuuggggghhhbkhkbgghhhhh... 

And while I'm itching to rant more, I promised short. It just makes me mad. Very, very mad. 

THE END.

*************************************

Now for the fun stuff.

(sorry for the poor quality videos. dang snap chat.)

First up....
Either I can't enunciate or Siri knows about my friend's stripper career that she's kept under wraps.
Her male stripper career, that is.

She may be many things, but a Scaphoid Cowboy she is not.
(Or is she...?)


Next we have...
Me getting a little excited last night watching Dancing With The Stars.
We're proud of you Jacoby. You did us proud. 

(I'm also proud of my coordinated leg weaving with the stars. I think I've found my calling.)

And finally...

 Our farewell to Mr. P's 70's pornstache.

I will treasure these forever. 

Forever and ever. 

Aaaand ever. 

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My Giant Problem

Blog Every Day in May
Day 20/31 - Get real. Share something you're struggling with right now.

I'm struggling with a lot right now. Like cleaning this house, unpacking countless boxes, fixing actual food, and the fact that it's not yet June and I'm not yet on vacation. 

But I was told to get real, so get real I will. 

I struggle with the fact that I'm taller than my husband. 

I know, I know. I chose it.

Well, I kind of chose it: I chose him. And I love him. And I wouldn't go back and do anything differently in those choices. What's awesome is he doesn't care one bit and I totally love him for that.
This is my struggle, my issue, and it seriously is just so senseless. 

Knowing all of that, I still have to admit that sometimes I just feel like this:

{via}

The Jolly Green Giant stomping through the Murray household. 

(Especially since I love me some kale and spinach and salad.)

I don't often talk about it less because of the fact that I'm embarrassed by it and more because I'm embarrassed that it even bothers me. 

I have a man whom I love. A man that loves me to the moon and back and treats me accordingly. Who brings out the best in me and lets me be myself. I'm beyond lucky and I know it. 

Plus friends, it's time we get real. I'm a feminist.
And do feminists worry about crazy stuff like being taller than their husbands?

Mmmmm.. no.

Feminists see that it's culturally created and has no purpose in life whatsoever. They point out how awesome it is to be able to reach the top shelves of cupboards and not have to hem store-bought jeans.

I need to grow up and get back in the twenty-teens or whatever the hell we're going to call them. 

But it's hard. Because I don't want to grow anymore. I want to shrink a bit and make it all perfect and Disney-like.

{even the tramp is taller... it's just ridiculous. via}

But since HGH isn't an option and I don't know of any shrinking potion, I guess I'm going to live with it. 

And luckily I've got a supportive, tall-gal loving man to help me through. 

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10 Words

Day 11/31 - Sell yourself in ten words or less. 

This kind of reminds me of the time I was interviewing for my used car sales position and was asked to sell the interviewer a pen. It was horrible, or more accurately, I was horrible.

But I think I did better on this one. I'm pretty sure it's what I used to lure Peyton, even if only psychically.
And it appears, as evidenced by our ONE YEAR OLD BABY, that it worked- hook, line, and sinker.

So, here goes:

[I'm] "everything you want and what you haven't realized you need."

phew. with 3 hours and 3 minutes to spare.

Happy birthday sweet always-my-baby-boy Declan!
Hopefully there will be a full recap of the festivities in the next few days. 

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If You Can't Say Anything Nice...

{disclosure: this photo has nothing to do with anything.}

Sunday morning Peyton came to me with a request.

"How about we agree to say nothing but kind words to one another for the entire day?"

(Novel, I know. This idea that married people might actually speak lovingly to one another for a whole day. pfff.)

After giving a few suspicious looks I responded with a hug and a sure, while we both acknowledged that this would be a mental exercise of the best sort.

And oh how it was. There were a few near slips, caught by the other with a warning that this was entering unkind territory. There were a few borderline statements made under the guise of being "the truth." There was probably even extra road rage from the internalization. But overall, if any of these lapses were called out it just became more amusing that we were doing this pitiful exercise and tension decreased.

Should we get gold medals? Umm... of course! I think that's only fair. I'd even take a bronze. I'm pretty sure that's why I agreed to this whole cockimamy idea anyway.

And as for future plans, I think we might have to ease into making it a habit. Don't want to be too hasty you know.

I'm thinking that Peyton's final proclamation - "I wouldn't lie to you, especially on the day I'm trying to be kind!" - showed that we really just need baby steps here.

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The Games We Play

Back in the day, before Peyton and I were officially Peyton and I, we were friends. Best friends I liked to think. My husband, though, was a little slower on the uptake...

First off, this story takes place on a trip to Home Depot. Not a very friendship-y activity, I'd say.

Second? We were diving into the Table Topics life questions, because every chance in a budding relationship holds infinite opportunities to learn the deepest, most intimate pieces of someone's soul. (You know: wheat or white, flat-head or phillips, dog or cat. Those types of things.) And once again, not an activity that I strike up with any old Joe on the street.

So there we are in the car, partaking in a Home Depot trip full of deep, probing questions, soaking in each other's presence and connecting with our heart-to-heart.

"Who would you choose to live on a deserted island with for two years?"

Peyton ponders this, for a bit too long it seems. "Chico? Noo, man. I don't think I could last that long with him... I don't know."

He was truly struggling.

"I don't think there's anyone. Nope, no one. What about you? Who would you pick?"

So I go for it, the first person that popped in my head. "Well... You."

Let's just say there were crickets. And pins dropping. And the man with the sad fiddle was about to step up.

"Oh, um, YEA. Yea, me too!" Some overly emphatic nodding and a pleased smile ensued.

"I'd pick you."

And not one to be proven wrong, the man up and married me. Now if only he'd focus on the whole Mediterranean yacht thing, we'd be one step closer to that deserted island.

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To My Mister, On His Birthday

{It's hard to write this in a cheese-less, vegan-friendly way because my heart just wants to wax on and on about what a spectacular human being he is. But, it being his birthday and all, I decided that he kind of deserves to read a nice thing or two about himself. So in the spirit of keepin' things real and celebrating P, I'm taking heart to paper screen. I'll just try to keep it more of a feta and less of an in-your-face bleu.}

Peyton-

Thank you for being born. I know you had quite the hand in it, so hats off to you. Thank you as well for moving to Austin, buying a house, and opening up a room to strangers. Without all those steps, I'd be a rich, happy lady missing the best piece of my soul. I'm pretty sure fate led the way for us and our intersecting paths. That fate is a sneaky one. It had me all fooled that you were nothing but a friend, that I'd live in Austin for a year, that I was going to have some amazing single girl times, then BOOM! Love. Thank goodness I caught on to it and dropped subtle hints that let you know what a triumphant couple we'd be. (You're welcome, you're welcome. You wake up and sing hallelujah EVERY SINGLE DAY for this fact, I know.)

Anyway, I'm beyond glad our story unfolded as it did. You're my rock, my best friend, and on more occasions than you should probably let happen but of which I'm so thankful for, my enabler to being lazy. You balance out my soul, desires, fears, and passions in a way I could never have expected.

You helped create, according to unbiased four-year-old Thomas, "the cutest baby in the whhhhole world!" Gotta give you some props for that one. Plus, you are following through and actually taking care of him, pretty darn well in fact. So please, I will now let the world know that you are an excellent hands-on dad, and I wouldn't trade you for anyone, not even Mr. Ryan Gosling himself.

But the most important act currently in our day-to-day existence is that you are our provider. You allow me to stay home and raise our child, to experience his first laughs, toe touches, and pterodactyl squawks as they come. This gift is more precious than any monetary good I could find and somehow I take it for granted far too often. (Now mind you, I haven't gone to the luxury stores yet...) So thank you, from both Dex and I (well, I at least HOPE that boy agrees), for giving us this opportunity that we will carry through our lives.

While there are about a gazillion more wonderful aspects to you, some of which I know and many of which I have yet to learn, I will leave it at that. Today I celebrate your spirit, accomplishments, and life while looking forward to the decades of experience ahead. 

Happy birthday love. Thank you for sharing your heart and journey with me. 

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