You’ve no doubt heard the term Selective Listening (SL).  Kids are experts at this (”I didn’t hear you ask me take out the garbage!  Honest.”), and husbands come in a close second.  I’m ok with this; I’ve found ways to overcome SL.  It’s simple really – after I’ve asked them to do something, I inquire:  “Did you hear what I just said?” or “Do you understand?” or “Hello?!  Are you listening to me?” or “Please take those things out of your ears and listen to me.”  Sometimes I forget to follow up for confirmation of message received – I’m in a hurry or being forgetful myself, so on occasion I still get:  “What are you talking about?” or “You asked me to do what?” or “I just must not have heard you.” or the very wise, “If I would have known you wanted that done, of course I would have done it!” or the one about the garbage.

Anyway, like I said, when I’m on my toes, I can prevail over SL.  What I haven’t figured out how to directly deal with is Selective Noticing (SN) – sometimes also known as (in my own mind) Selective Seeing.  So, what is SN, you ask?

Note:  I hate to typecast, but after speaking with quite a few women about this, they all, 100%, related to what I was saying.  So, I’ll go ahead and lump all women together and all men together for the sake of this blog.

Many of you probably know what SN is – after all the title is pretty much the definition, but do let me clarify.  Like SL, this mostly affects kids and husbands (or male partners).  Sometimes you (the woman is you here) think that perhaps they are losing their sight, but you don’t see them running into things and they still watch TV just fine.  So it must be that sometimes when they see a thing, they just don’t notice that thing.  The message gets stopped on the way to the brain – or rather the brain uses some kind of sorting mechanism to select what is actually noticed.

An example:  You do the wash and fold the clothes while watching TV.  You put your own clothes away but leave your husband’s on the back of the couch.  You go to bed forgetting to grab the clothes.  You go to work in the morning and don’t think about the clothes.  You get home, they are still sitting exactly where you left them, and you think, mmmm….why weren’t these put away?  So you leave the clothes (yes, guys, this has now become a test – so what?) just to see how long the pile will stay there.  Another day goes by – the clothes haven’t moved but the pile is a bit lop-sided from people brushing up against them.  Another day – now a few on top aren’t folded anymore because they have fallen off the pile, picked up and set back down (yes, kudos for picking them up off the floor, I think).  And so on until you figure it will never be done, and you either put them away yourself – or, like I do, you ask your partner, “Do you know how long your pile of T-shirts has been sitting on the back of this couch?  I mean, I know you don’t think it’s my job to do this just because I’m the woman, right?  But if not, how did you think they’d get put away?”  And he replies, so very sincerely, “I guess I didn’t notice them there.”

How can this be, you ask?  He walked past those clothes probably 50 times in those 4 days they sat there.  How is it possible?  But yet their denial-of-noticing is so damn heartfelt, you can’t help but believe them.

So what can you do?  The only thing I’ve figured out is this:  tell him that his clothes are on the couch and ask him to please put them away.  Then, if I’m on the ball, I’ll say, “Honey, are you listening to me, did you hear what I just said?”

This concludes another view from my married life.

I’ve been on a bit of a blog-writing-hiatus.  Switching jobs, training my replacement, and helping my dad promote the book he just wrote (see www.beyondfossilfools.com to hear the podcast we made, and search Beyond Fossil Fools at YouTube to see the video) has kept my brain too occupied and full to write.  Then, on the 5th we left for a road-trip to Canada’s mountains-majesty to attend a destination wedding.  We just got home a few days ago.  Much more on this later.

Today, I want to write about something I’ve been thinking about for a few weeks.  A relationship-revelation sort of deal.

My husband and I got embroiled in an “emotional debate” (argument just doesn’t fit for what we do).  As a general rule, we get along famously – we’ve figured out a lot in the area of marriage communication.  However, when we do start down this tension-filled path and start to butt heads, it seems to almost always take the same damn form.  Sound familiar?  We continuously agree that we’ll get over/fix/avoid going there, but inevitably every few months we find ourselves there.  Again.

Anyway, after the ED was over, I began to reflect on it in a way I never have before.  I thought:  how does Steve approach me when I’ve said/not said/done/not done things that bothered him, and how do I react?  Do I also get defensive?  I thought some more.  And more.  And for the life of me, I couldn’t think of the last time Steve had confronted me.

Could this be true?  Do I do nothing that bugs my husband?  Wow.  What a wife I am… dang near perfect if Steve’s lack of confrontation is any gauge.

But (I thought, as reality trickled in), how about the times I’m mean to him because I’m stressed?  How about the times I don’t follow through on things I’ve said I’d do?  How about the times when I’m stubborn or illogical or jump to the wrong conclusion or don’t say the thing he wants to hear or….what about all the times I’ve said/not said/done/not done the exact same things that, when he does them, I have to “address it”?

The only conclusion I can possibly come to here is that Steve accepts me.  As I am.  He knows that sometimes, because I’m human and we are in a long-term relationship and these things happen, I will do upsetting things.  But it must not matter to him, it’s not worth even bringing up, because it is completely insignificant in the face of the love he has for me.

OMG, I thought.  This cannot be true.  I mean, him loving me and accepting me the way I am is 100% wonderful.  But you can see the not-so-nice flip side: all of our EDs are started by me?!  I think, no, no, NO, they are started by the things he has said/not said/done/not done.  Right?  I mean, these things need to get cleared up.  I shouldn’t hold on to them; I need to talk to him about it so it can be resolved and fixed.  Right?  RIGHT?

Ummm.  Maybe not right.  Steve doesn’t seem to suffer by NOT bringing these things to the table.  In fact, he seems more content by not doing so.  Wow, I thought.

Incredible.  In a kind of life changing sort of way.

This concludes another view from my married life.

My son graduated last weekend. Up to the actual day of the ceremony, I was doing a dang good job of ignoring/avoiding what was coming up. That my first born will be leaving soon. That this chapter is now closed: the one where he grows up with me there to guide him. That I’m old enough to have a son who is graduating from high school. I wasn’t thinking about any of this.

Case in point:
A few weeks ago when my husband realized that a gig he had set up last fall fell on graduation weekend. I felt bad for both husband and son–my son would miss not having Steve there, and Steve really wished he could be there. (It was an out of town, three-day gig that he could not really opt out of.) I was angry at how the timing of things occasionally just works out so crappy. However, I didn’t connect his absence with anything to do with my frame of mind. Why should I? I was handling everything just fine. I didn’t need Steve there for me. In fact, when loved ones asked this past week, “How are you doing with all of this?” I would shrug and say I was doing just fine. And I was just fine: denial was doing its job.

And then Saturday arrived, and BANG! It hit me. Right between the eyes: kicking my butt, flinging me around and stomping on my heart. I woke up feeling beat up. I felt lethargic and teary all day. On the edge. I dialed a wrong number and got choked up. Denial, my brain declared, is no longer an option. This is happening.

I knew I should be feeling excitement and pride, but mostly my heart was filled with anxiety and a sadness I couldn’t really put my finger on. I mean, how can we be expected to give our children away? We’ve protected, nurtured, disciplined, coddled, influenced and loved these beautiful little people like NOTHING ELSE IN THE WORLD. They are ours, damn it.

So, yes, I felt it keenly: my husband wasn’t there. And I needed him. Not the graduate, but the mother of the graduate. I couldn’t believe how much I missed him; how intensely I felt Steve’s physical absence.

As family and friends showed up, I pulled it together. The distraction was a big help; lots of hugs an even bigger help. So the tears dried up until, of course, the band started “Pomp and Circumstance” at the ceremony. There they were, this time including my son, entering with their flowing gowns. It was a potent, magical, teary moment.

I wanted Steve there next to me during the ceremony. I wish he would have been part of the get-together at the house afterward. I was surrounded by love, but I wanted him. He’s the only one in the world whose touch, whose arms around me can soothe me.

And that got me thinking….

First of all, that I should just get over it, and take the drama down a notch…he’d be home the next day, for crying out loud.

And second of all…..that the power of physical love, the physical connection, between lifetime partners is unmatched. I’m not talking sex here…well….yes, sex is part of it, but only a part. I’m talking about a partner’s touch. There’s just nothing more powerful out there. It really does deserve to be treated with supreme respect. And never taken for granted. I forget this sometimes, but last weekend brought it all back home….

….along with Steve. So I feel better now. That is, until the day we drop my son off at college a very long way from home.

This concludes another view from my married life.

Spring is here!  In Minnesota, this is a big deal.  More so this year it seems; winter dragged on forever.  (Maybe we say this every year.)  The sunshine and warmth has me feeling great:  I’m happier, funnier, friskier, kinder, sexier.  In fact, I feel lighter somehow (despite the pounds I put on post-Caribbean-vacation).  Is this the work of sunshine?

I spent almost the entire weekend outside.  I shopped (greenhouses), planted, mulched, cleaned up fall debris, etc….  It was relaxing, invigorating, and satisfying.  The only thing missing was my husband.  And miss him I did and do.

Steve’s been super busy – day and night: he’s recording a CD, playing and engineering and planning/publicizing the release concert.  So I haven’t seen much of him for weeks.  We’ve shared a few meals and a few walks and met up in bed a few times, but other than that, zip. Nada.  And as we get into spring, that’s becoming harder to take.

There are all sorts of projects on hold that need his expertise or strength (i.e. getting the deck furniture out of storage/installing a railing/making a fire pit/finishing steps/on and on).  So I am waiting patiently.  Or maybe not so patiently.  But at least, because of the sun’s positive influence, my impatience is not turning into anything more nasty.

Note: Actually the friskiness (uhhh, randiness?) is winning out on almost every other emotion/action (well, except when exhausted, then sleep is still trumping everything…).  Oh, how I love spring!  Maybe I’ll install in our bedroom one of those lights that mimic sunlight next winter.

Anyway, over this Memorial Day weekend, besides some practices and gigs (we both have them), we are spending time at home.  We are going to tackle some outside projects together, and I couldn’t be more excited (is this kind of pathetic??).  I really love working side-by-side with my husband; particularly on outdoor physical tasks.  Now that I think about it, I’d rather do this than go to a movie, out to dinner or to a show.  I don’t really get it. (If you have any answers, please let me know)

Along with the work, and maybe this has something to do with my affinity for it, there will be Coronas and lime, maybe some pain-killers, some great meat to grill, a summer pasta salad, warmth (praying) and sunshine (my fingers are crossed – covering all bases) this week-end.  All this with a layer of flirting and frisky over it all…..I can’t wait.

Have a fantastic Memorial Day Weekend.

This concludes another view from my married life.

Do you have a TV in your bedroom?  We do.  It was installed there a few years ago in preparation for my back surgery recovery.  It has stayed there ever since.  Yes, in the face of the experts that rail against it, we are keeping the TV in the bedroom.  We like it there: damn the consequences.

Note: We watch pretty rarely – never the news – usually movie - maybe a few times a month.  I think moderation here is key to why it works for us.

Consequences?   If you haven’t heard, many studies have been done and many, many psychologists speak of the numerous problems (insomnia, obesity, lower grades) with kids having TVs in their rooms (they are outlawed for my kids’ bedrooms), but how about adults?  What effect does it have on couples?

Well, one report I read found that Italians (the study was done in Italy) with a TV in the bedroom have sex at least half as many times per month (one article said 7 times down to 1.5, another said from 4 to 2…) as their no-bedroom–TV peers. Yikes!

Another study (in Osaka, Japan) said that people perceive they get less sleep if they have a TV in their room.  I don’t know what that means. (I only included this because it is such a goofy thing to report)

For Feng Shui advocates like Kathryn Weber, it’s an absolute no-no:  “Television is a distraction to romance and it takes away from a room’s restful qualities because when it’s turned off, the TV acts like a mirror, reflecting you and your sweetie in bed.” My husband would think this an advantage, but no:  “This disrupts your chi and can even cause insomnia.”  Damn!  I don’t want disrupted chi.  And I want to be able to sleep.

But I don’t want to give it up TV in bed!  Would our sleep be more restful?  Would we really have sex more often if we tossed the TV?  And if so…would more sex outweigh the pleasure of in-bed TV watching?

What!?
Is that wrong to ask?
Am I a wicked wife for even framing a question this way?  A thoughtless lover?
Are you shaking your head?

O.K., it does sound bad/ignorant/crazy/unsophisticated etc…but before you start wagging your finger in my general direction, please indulge me.

My arguments FOR Bedroom TV:

First of all, if I’m feeling frisky, the TV won’t go on in the first place.  Second of all, if either of us starts feeling frisky mid-movie…well…a person can always rewind back to the spot where attention was diverted.  Thirdly, some shows can instigate friskiness (and not necessarily just porn).  Fourthly, snuggling up body to body in bed to watch TV (no one said you have to wear a lick of clothing!) feels a lot more intimate to me than separately reading books, and I hear no one rebuking bedroom reading!

Last of all, this is what I won’t give up:  we start a movie, I crawl into bed (he says, “Comin’ in?”, I say “Yeah,” and he raises his arm to pull me in), I put my head on his chest, his arm wraps around me, and he starts rubbing my back.  For that precious time, 1.5 to 2 hours, we won’t do anything else; just relax in bed, touch and focus on the same thing with NO DEMANDS for anything else.

Usually I fall in and out of sleep throughout the movie.  Each time I wake, I’m in his arms, his hand rubbing me, close enough so I can just turn my head to kiss him and then snuggle back down to float away again.  Can you see why I really love this?

Call me clueless or chi-less, but this is cherished time.  The TV stays.

This concludes another view from my married life.

A girlfriend (Teri) and I were talking about dating. Specifically, I was asking about the latest guy she dated and doesn’t want to date anymore. “Too many deal breakers,” she dismissed. “Okay,” I pushed, “list ‘em.” And so she did. Half way through, I got a pen.

Here are some:
He swore
He called his mom, “Momma”
He socks were really stained
His breath smelled
He smoked when he drank a lot
He was often late
He was a sloppy dresser
He was sloppy
He laughed out loud at movies
He answered his home phone with, “What’s up?”
He drove too fast
He told her to drive faster
(there were more)

“Stop! What in god’s name are you looking for? A man or a robot? Most of these aren’t deal breakers, Teri, they’re quirks, for crying out loud.” I was sort of yelling and sort of laughing. I mean, can you imagine? She retorted, “What the hell happens to all of the non-deal breaking irritants after you get married, Pauline, huh? From the looks of most relationships, these quirky little nuisances all add up to marriage breakers. They do! I’ve seen it. The big things get fixed, the little things grow until they smother you!”

Well, I had to stop there. I was silent. Had no retort, no reply, no…..ADVICE! I mean, we have to ignore all of these little goofy, untamed, ungroomed, unsophisticated, odd behaviors we have or no one would ever get together. Don’t we? If not, our species would die out, I’m sure of it. We are all too riddled with failings to be scrutinized by un-accepting eyes.

And then it hit me. It is not our little mistakes and flaws that doom our relationships. We all get to have flaws, dammit, and we all should be with someone that accepts them, dammit. This is what I told Teri: we might say that we fight about the small stuff, but it’s still the big stuff/hurts/jealousies/lies/etc underneath that allow us to be bothered with the small. She didn’t know if she bought it, but I smiled.

Listen, if we weren’t upset about something major, I really truly, honestly believe we could actually JOKE about our small failings. Even better, when we’re happy about the foundation of the relationship, we’re willing to change those little irritants that bother one another. Teri looked like this made sense, but wasn’t willing to agree yet!

So we turned back to the list. (BTW - this guy she’s seeing is really a great guy. She does like him a lot.)

He swore (he’d probably stop if he knew it bothered her – if it slips out once in awhile, she could just CHILL, right?)
He called his mom, “Momma” (SO WHAT?)
He socks were really stained (buy him new socks)
His breath smelled (this is a really tough one, we agreed, but worth it to confront. She has to bite the bullet and tell him, no matter what happens, in the end, the guy will thank her for this)
He smoked when he drank a lot (if he drank a lot a lot, I’d be worried, but it only happened once)
He was often late (tell him to pick you up 15 minutes before you need to go, and then work on the on time thing with him)
He was a sloppy dresser (buy him clothes and/or help him dress – I love to help my husband get dressed for a gig)
He was sloppy (this could be a deal breaker, but on closer inspection he really isn’t that bad…she was just on a roll)
He laughed out loud at movies (GET OVER IT)
He answered his home phone with, “What’s up?” (see above)
He drove too fast
He told her to drive faster (she was really reaching here at the end)

After all of this we were laughing pretty hard. How absurd we can be? How stupid? Teri decided to give the guy a little slack. Maybe he’d even change some of is ways for the good of them.

I learned something, here. I did.

Next time I am stomping around, pissed, muttering to myself the non-deal breaking list of my husband’s nasty habits and quirky tendencies, I’m going to get out pen and paper. I’ll write down the list and go through them one by one to see how small these problems are – how stupid it is to dwell on them. And to thank the heavens there’s no deal breaker among them.

You know, I bet a lot of the time I’ll find that it will shine a light back at me. And then I’ll see how my husband overlooks, embraces, laughs about, doesn’t care about, loves me in spite of and doesn’t judge all of my little quirks and icky habits.

This concludes another view from my married life.