Because Marriage is Hard

Marriage is hard. Harder than math. The algebra kind. Of math… not marriage. I don't know if there's an algebra kind of marriage. If there is, that shit would be exponentially harder.

Mr. Jones was getting on my last nerve just days before we boarded a plane to a resort in Baja Sur. It had been building for several months, beginning with the move and leading up to just two weeks prior to the trip, where it finally subsided, but in no way had disappeared. Several times, I came close to sending a lie via email to my PR contact. I had it all planned. I would tell her that Mr. Jones had to work and that he couldn't get out of it and we would both say, of what a bummer for Mr. Jones, but the trip will still be very enjoyable. 

But my deep seeded Catholic guilt won out and I wasn't able to A) lie and B) punish Mr. Jones for being a jackass, even though I thought he deserved it. 

Why was I so mad at him?

Because life LIFE IS HARD!!! 

Throw in a few months of unemployment and of picking the last pennies from the "extra money" account and moving an entire home into storage or across the border, not to mention losing all of my plants that kept me calm in times of stress… and all of life's regular hardness has an extra sharp bite that hurts. It makes you fragile and it makes your relationships even more fragile. And hot headed Latinas should NEVER be around fragile relationships when they are particularly… hot.

Within a day of arriving at the resort, I could feel my shoulders relax. I let out the breaths I had been holding and I breathed in the fresh air. Within a day of being there with Mr. Jones, I remembered the thing that we promised each other so many times before. The one promise we have not properly honored.

"Let's make sure we get away together often," we always promise.

We make that promise because we know that we need that time to be a couple. We need that time to get away from life and kids and laundry and car problems and bills and just be a couple. We need to carve out that time and that money and MAKE IT HAPPEN. Otherwise, we'll find ourselves spending that same money on lawyers.


I'm organizing all the pictures I took from our fabulous trip to Villa Del Palmar in Loreto and I will have a wonderful post about our experience up shortly. But I couldn't tell the story without unloading the truth about the days leading up to the trip. And I certainly couldn't put it in the post that I'm going to write for the very nice people that flew us there. So here it sits. Judge or nod your head. It's all good.

And if you're in a relationship, you'll read about Villa Del Palmar Loreto and you'll want to go there and I'll say, "GO THEN!" Because marriage is hard… but love is sweet.

And we need the love.

And all the feels.

Hairdresser for Hire

hair cut scissors.jpg

I cut my man's hair today. 

I've been asking him for years to let me cut his hair. I mean, it's not like he has much to cut! But he liked the special attention he got at the salon. The shoulder rub, the hot towel on the face, the scalp massage. 

Up until a couple of years ago, I always cut my son's hair.  I finally decided he needed a "big boy" cut and sent him to the salon with his dad. He also liked the shoulder rub, hot towel, and scalp massage. But since we moved far from everything familiar, the boy's hair got way too bushy, and I had no choice but to pull out the scissors and the clippers. He wasn't happy with it. He liked his longish locks and I in his opinion, I had cut him back down to an average boy haircut. My daughter and husband both thought it looked fine and I did leave it longer than I used to, so except for him mourning his long big boy cut, it was a success.

Plus, now I can see his face and it's just SUCH A CUTE LITTLE FACE I WANT TO SQUEEZE HIS CHEEKS!!! 

(Pausing for a mom moment... okay, all better.) 

So a couple of days ago, after seeing that I did, in fact, know what I was doing with the clippers, my husband came to me and asked me to cut his hair. I was stunned! I said yes, and then I got nervous. What if I make him look like a mental patient? What if I leave a bald spot amidst the little hair he has left? What if he hates it? 

We went out on the patio, me with a little black comb and clippers, him with a stool to sit on. Then I went at it. Half way through, I could see that I was doing a good job and I started to get a little cocky. "I should charge for my work!" I thought. Then I got all immersed in the character of the hairdresser and started talking to him in a sultry voice between clips and snips.

"So... how was your week?"

*snip snip* 

"You been flying lately?"

*buzz snip buzz* 

He almost anwered me.

"Want a hot towel and shoulder rub?"

He got all excited and said "YEAH!"  

"That'll be extra."

And that's when he remembered he was talking to his wife.