Here is the definition of a Rambling:According to dictionary.com Taking an irregular course. Straying from one subject to another; spread out irregularly in various directions.

Now take note, this is a serious rambling, if ever there was a rambling.

If there’s anything my heart breaks for it’s divorce, and broken marriages. I see the struggle on people’s faces. I see the hurt, and feel their grief. There was a night when I worked at Starbucks I was sweeping the cafe. There was a couple sitting in the corner bickering. There was another man with them. He may have been a lawyer, a friend, a family member maybe, attempting to mediate. As I got closer I caught a few of their bitter words. I gathered that they had been going through a divorce, and were in somewhat of a custody battle. “I don’t understand why I can’t see my children more often. There are times that you’re away, and I’d love to spend time with them.” the man said. “You don’t see them more often because they don’t want to spend time with you.” The woman replied in a harsh tone. Every word that escaped her lips  was so venomous. It pained me to even think about how she had gotten to that point. How hurt has she been? How tired is she of fighting?

They battled back and forth for a while until one of my supervisors felt the need to come over and quiet them as many other customers were beginning to feel uncomfortable. The rest of the couple’s words somewhat melted together in heated frustration. I couldn’t get past her words. “They don’t want to spend time with you.” I don’t know the circumstances, and I certainly don’t know the man or woman. But I didn’t need to. My heart still broke for them, and their children. Were their insults at all helpful to the situation at this point, or were they only negatively affecting their children for life?

I wished so badly for them to see themselves from my perspective. I felt for the woman but there is no doubt I felt for the man as well. His words quickly reminded me of that last scene in Mrs. Doubtfire. Where Robin Williams is fighting for partial custody of his children.

The idea of someone telling me I can’t be with them, I can’t see them every day.. It’s like someone saying I can’t have air. I can’t live without air, and I can’t live without them.

I wish there were more parents out there like that. Ones that would fight for their children no matter the circumstances. Growing up in a broken home caused me to grow up very quickly. I’m so grateful for my mother was always unbiased towards my dad. She never spoke negatively of him to me. She wished for me to form my own opinion of him. I don’t know how she did it, but I am grateful for it. I didn’t need to know details of their marriage at such a young age. Too many adults share information with their children that are not for children’s ears. The child begins to view one parent in a different light because the other is telling them so. It’s so very manipulative and upsetting to me. Allow your children to grow. Speak highly of your spouse. Show your children what a happy healthy marriage looks like.

I never believed people could truly love one another forever. It wasn’t until I met Brandon that I knew for sure it was possible. There is no trick to marriage. You will never have enough helpful tips. And it isn’t just blissful after 15 years. It’s hard work day in and day out [Period] Sometimes Brandon doesn’t put his dish in the sink. Some days I let it consume me. Flustered, I’ll mumble to myself “Doesn’t he know by now?” Then some days it’s an honor for me to put his dish away. Because that extra dirty dish belongs to my husband whom I love. Those dirty socks lying just a foot from the hamper, I groan as I toss them in. But then I remind myself who they belong to and I smile. “Babe!” I’ll say in shock, “You’re socks have done it again! They’ve jumped right out of the hamper. I don’t know how they do it.” If those dirty socks weren’t there that would mean I had no husband there. So rather than live in frustration I have to choose to find those little quirks, and cherish them.

This is another one of those “Go tell your significant other you love them” posts. And do you know why? Because it’s necessary. Every day, it’s necessary.

Once, I watched this terrible movie where a woman was abducted from a grocery store parking lot. Just packing her groceries in her trunk, and within seconds she was snatched up. I now refuse to go grocery shopping alone, especially at night. I much prefer for Brandon to be with me for many reasons.

1. Protection (Don’t judge me. I have been hit on at the grocery store by meat packing men, true story.)
2. To keep me accountable from buying junk food.
3. So he can pick out all of the desserts and juice he wants. (Many a time I have come home with 2 juices in tow.) “Two juices that’s it!?” He’ll say. “I’ll finish that in two days!” The boy has low blood sugar I’m sure of it.

The catch to having Brandon grocery shop with me is there needs to be a list. He speaks of nothing but the list. “Do we have a list?” (while we’re on our way) “Where’s the list?” (when we walk in) “I feel like we’re not getting anything on the list…” (in the store) Well… that’s because I just scribbled a bunch of things down so you’d think there was really a list. The majority of it is in my head. This was one of those moments in my marriage when I realized you’re spouse is around to keep you accountable, and they force you to be a better person. You don’t know how many loving discussions we’ve gotten into over chips, or string cheese. I finally bit the bullet and decided that if it’s important B, it’s important to me. I have now learned that the best thing for us to do before we tackle the task of grocery shopping is to communicate beforehand. Go through the house, figure out what we’re out of, and write down anything we think we’ll want. Steer clear of categories such as ‘fruit’ and ‘snacks’. You’ll be in those sections forever! This makes for a happy husband in the storeIf you’re as bad as I am, and had him come along., and a much quicker shopping trip.

We recently went to Wegmans when apparently there was supposed to be a snow storm. We had no idea about the storm as it was 50 some degrees outside and sunny. Thank goodness we had our list prepared because I have never been in such a crowded grocery store. At one point I was walking down an aisle and a woman was bent over. She began backing up… several steps… without looking… what on earth? Don’t people know not to bend over like that in public? You never know what some weirdo will do to you. 

We later walked by a woman with her two preteen children in the cereal aisle. “Keep walking.” she said to the kids. They weren’t concerned about getting out of the way, they wanted their fruit loops. She proceeded to push the cart… into her children, causing that awful pain in the achilles. You know it, it’s happened to all of us. Then you look at the driver of the cartMost likely a family member. and scowl. Apparently the worst side of people is brought out during a ‘snowmagedon’ or ‘snowpocalypse’ (which are two words I despise for some reason. Maybe because it’s only 4-6 inches of snow and I will be driving the next day?) You are only snowed in for a day people. Do you drink 3 gallons of milk in a day?

Needless to say, we made it home where I was able to witness something once more. The attempt to carry every bag inside in one trip. Why can men not accept that there should definitely be 2-3 trips back to trunk? I can drop off a load of groceries inside, come back out, grab some more, and come back out again to close the trunk by the time he has loaded up one arm.

That is seriously what he looks like. An accomplished smile crosses his faces while he trudges into the house. Don’t mind the trail of items that have wriggled their way out of that tangled mess. “Here babe.” I say motioning for the spot I cleared out on the counter or table. Nope, couch looks like the appropriate place to set them down. Then he’ll plop down beside it like “What? I just carried all of that in for you. Aren’t you grateful?”

Truth is I am grateful. The dynamic in a marriage is so precious to me. B has his antics, and I’m sure he could tell you mine. Sharing your life alongside someone is such a gift. So the next time your man carries all of those groceries in at once smile at him, and say thank you.

I often feel the urge to write when I’m at work. It’s much like feeling a craving come on that needs to be satisfied. So what am I to do when I’m at work and feel the urge to write? I look for inspiration around the office, and occasionally express my writing in email form. The following is an email I typed up to my manager.

Subject: Potential Heart & Soul Award goes to… Kristen Suchocki!

Alison,

While you were away it came to my attention this Thursday night that around 5:30pm Kristen was really getting into her therapy. I stepped out of the front office to find another thing to add to our burdensome Thursday. A broken stool. She has been so dedicated to her patients, wheeling all around them.. Stabilizing them, mobilizing them, making them feel all better, you know. She thought all was well in the world of Kristen until suddenly to her dismay the wheel of her stool broke off! Shattered might I add. It’s ok, don’t fret, our beloved PT was just fine finishing her session in crouch position. However, we can’t stand aside and expect her to be able to meet her full therapist potential in uncomfortable positions. She is a bride to be! You remember the stress, right? We must make her comfortable.

Our poor Kristen now desires a nice new long lasting stool. We know the expenses for Stafford are great. We also want you to know that we greatly appreciate all of the therapy materials you have provided us with. Do you think that maybe there would be any way we could get our poor Kristen a new stool?

Sincerely,

A very bummed out Kristen, and Natalie

Wasn’t that much more entertaining to read than Kristen broke the stool? Ok now go run out into the gym and take a look at it!

Happy Friday!