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How to be a waffle: the art of compartmentalization

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There is this great bit from My Best Friend's Wedding  where Julia Roberts and Cameron Diaz are discussing who the guy should be with based on what type of food they are. "No, creme brule could never be jello.  You  could never be jello!" "But I  have  to be jello!!" I have zero interest in creme brule. It has long since been established I am 100% unavoidably jello. And I am totally chill with that. What I want to be is a waffle, but just like poor Cameron Diaz, I can't be. I am sentenced to be spaghetti for the rest of my life. Before you start thinking I let the two year old write for me today, let me explain. There is a book called, Guys are Waffles, Girls are Spaghetti by Chad Eastham , which a review on Goodreads posits as the healthier alternative to I Kissed Dating Goodbye  (more on THAT monstrosity another day). The premise is based on neurological research that shows how men and women process information differently. Men have little ment...
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BLOG MOVED TO WORDPRESS

https://hillyannet.wordpress.com/ Due to annoyances with google, I moved "Messy Buns & Latin Chant" to Wordpress. Follow the link to see new posts, and to subscribe to the new site!
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Treat your husband like a child

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My husband and I celebrate our third anniversary next week. Traditionally, this is the leather anniversary. The reason being that this year, the couple begins to see how tough their marriage is and how their marriage will stand up to trials. One lesson that I have learned in three years that I believe will help my husband and I through the rest of the trials in our lives together, is that resentment can be incredibly destructive, and that it is vital not to keep score of wrongs. A few days ago, my husband did something that upset me. It wasn't out of animosity; it was simply that we had a miscommunication about priorities. We discussed it, and we both apologized; but yet, I let myself be bent out of shape for most of the day before coming to a stunning realization: I don't brood for hours when my sons annoy me.  I don't hold a grudge when they stomp on my feet, bite while nursing, throw their food, unfold the laundry, or just throw a fit over nothing. With...
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