May 4, 2012 by Heather
Hannah Blogs is a guest post written by my sister. She and her husband, Matt, have a delicious little 6-month-old daughter (my niece!!), Harper. Hannah enjoys the finer things in life, such as eating a bowl of cereal and wearing the same tank top four days in a row. We are two years apart in age (I’m older) and are BFF. Enjoy her wise words.
Yesterday while at Walmart with Harper, a kind lady behind us in the check-out line said something to the affect of, “Well, look at how cute HE is!” This has happened before, and it doesn’t ever bother me because I’ve probably made the same mistake (although I NEVER say anything out loud unless I’m totally sure of the gender. Duh, I mean come on), but it got me to thinking. Harper’s carseat is green. Her stroller is green. Many of her belongings are gender-neutral because, let’s face it, that’s just practical. So I’m very careful to put something pink or girly on her whenever she’s in her stroller so that nobody will call her a boy. My point: Why does a green carseat/stroller automatically make my child a boy? There are just so many assumptions. Assumptions rule the world and it’s dumb. You know what assuming does.
Many people assumed I had a career path all planned out when I decided to major in English. Many people still assume that I will have some big career utilizing a very narrow view of what an English degree prepares you for. No, I am not going to write for a living. Some people think this is the only thing an English degree teaches you to do. I chose to major in it because I like English and love to write. I didn’t really like anything else. Being paid to write would be great, but along with getting paid for it comes being pressured to do it to somebody else’s liking and on somebody else’s schedule. True creative writing, at least for me, does not perform under pressure.
Many people assume that once you squeeze a baby out of your taco, or in my case a very yummy pelvic incision, that you take 6-8 weeks off to “get the hang of things” and then you jump right back into the saddle of working America. For some, perhaps. Some may not have a choice. But for me, no. My greatest achievement to date is being a mother. I am so blessed to spend my days inspiring an innocent child’s existence with love, appreciation, counsel, humor, and a firm belief that God is sovereign. What “dream” job can compete with that?
Many people also assume that getting married is just a title. That it’s merely something fun to do on a Saturday so that you can go on a fabulous honeymoon and come back with your hunk-a-hunk of burnin’ love and live the exact same way you did when you were single. And while you are still the same person, you can’t expect to have a great marriage if you only look out for yourself. It is important to make an effort to do things out of sacrificial love, even if it is something you might not like doing. You’d be surprised how far the “little” things can go.
For example, cook for your husband. If you don’t know how to cook then learn. It means so much to them. Try to have a clean house for him to come home to after a long workday. Tell him you’re happy he’s home. Make sure his khakis are clean. Turn all of his blasted underwear/t-shirts/socks/pants right-side-out before you fold them. Wear uncomfortably pretty panties sometimes. Buy him Folger’s instead of store brand, if that’s what he likes. Let him hang out with his friends. Trust him when that dumb Victoria’s Secret commercial comes on the T.V. Lighten the mood by joking that you don’t know why they put you in their commercial. Kiss him every night before bed. Vocalize in all those moments when he’s just so cute. Brag on him. Let him be funny. Respect him even when he doesn’t deserve it. If you really love your husband these things will not be chores. Don’t just ASSUME that he already knows that you love him. See what I did there??
I don’t know how this turned into a marriage counseling session.
I am getting my hair chopped off today and I am so excited. Harper sweetly and slowly plays with my hair. It’s precious. I also get to see the pregnant girl who runs this blog and her funny husband – who called me the other night just to tell me about his “cool” new GoPhone – this weekend. Sayonara suckers.