"Excuse me. I need some space."

I came across this quote, so nicely put by a two-year-old, while reading my friend's blog, Wifeytini. It has stuck with me since then because, well, first of all I think it's pretty adorable and hilarious that a toddler needs some space, and secondly, because I've finally reached the point where I need mine as well.

As you probably know by now, the husband and I don't have your average dating story. Our long distance romance didn't consist of going on physical dates, it consisted of scheduling Skype dates that took into account a seven-hour time difference. Instead of meeting once a week at a restaurant nearby and then saying goodbye for the evening, we were flying across an ocean and meeting for two weeks, one month, or even three at a time ... and then saying goodbye for the next few. That said, we never went through that phase of spending a few hours together here and there. No, we were spending some pretty good chunks of time together. And when we were together, we were together. I'm talking joined-at-the-hip, not-letting-you-out-of-my-sight together. I mean, wouldn't you be that way too if you only got to see the love of your life every three months or so?

This trend continued when I moved to Amsterdam. We were so happy to finally live together that we spent every available minute in the same room. If he was in the kitchen cooking dinner, then I was in the kitchen helping him cook, chatting about my day, or doing who-knows-what ... but I was in that kitchen with him. If I was sitting on the couch, then he was sitting on the couch next to me, likely with the side of his body pressed right up against mine. I think the word inseparable just about sums up what the husband and I have been, whenever possible, for as long as we've known each other. But, as Bob Dylan so aptly put it, "the times, they are a-changin'."

Just about one month ago, I decided to retire to bed before the husband and read my book. Now I realize that this sounds like a completely normal activity, but for me it wasn't. For me, it was the first time I had actively decided to do something that didn't involve my man even though I could have chosen to be with him. A few days later, I attended a ladies-only social event, leaving the husband home on his own for a few hours. And now, well, taking the time to do things on my own is becoming a more frequent occurrence.

The thing is, I'm not so sure how I feel about reaching this new point in our relationship. On one hand, I realize that it is healthy to have a life outside of your couple, and believe me, I am happy to create one of my own. Taking the initiative to do things for myself is increasing my overall happiness, not to mention that it's also boosting my confidence, leading me to make more friends, and forcing me to be more active in finding my place in Amsterdam. On the other hand, it makes me a bit sad that the pressing urge I had to soak up every minute with my man is fading. Maybe it just means that we're settling into married life, but it's taking some adjustment to realize that spending time together is now the norm, not a novelty.

But this is what I was waiting for, right? I mean, I was anxious for this "common life" (as the husband likes to call it) to start for so long, and now it is here. I am fortunate to wake up to the love of my life every morning, and kiss him goodnight every evening. And what's more, I'm fortunate enough to have such an abundance of time with him that it's perfectly fine to need some space. I think I just need some more time to get used to this concept.

"It Smells Cheese" and the Occasional Communication Breakdown

I've said it before and I'll say it again. In fact, I'll even write it down.

Once you date a non-native English speaker, you'll never go back.

The things my husband says are amusing, endearing and sometimes downright hilarious. I just can't get enough. Now, this is not to say that my husband isn't incredibly well-versed in the English language. Quite the contrary, actually. His vocabulary is one I could only dream of having in a second language (or third language in his case), and I often catch myself wondering how he learned some of the words he uses.

That is, until he turns around and exclaims,
"Wow, that shower totally washed out my brain!"
Cue my giggles.
"I mean, that shower completely brainwashed me!"
More giggles and an explanation of what brainwashing really is.

Or that time he asked,
"What are we going to make with this butterscotch?"
as he picked up the butternut squash I bought at the market.

Or every time he walks into the apartment while I'm cooking and exclaims:

He doesn't like cheese.
Yes, he's half French and half Dutch, has easy access to the world's best cheeses, and won't eat them.
Oh well, more for me.

Or, "It smells fajitas!" and I don't know whether to laugh at the omission of the word like or shudder because I'm reminded of that creepy scene in "Silence of the Lambs" when the psychopath threatens to use the hose on his victim unless "it rubs the lotion on its skin."

I could go on for days.

Unfortunately, not all of our little communication breakdowns are endearing or hilarious. There are bigger cultural differences expressed in language that have occasionally left either my husband or me feeling misunderstood or frustrated. The one that shows its ugly head most often is my tendency to express approval and his tendency to provide criticism.

I'm currently reading the book Americanah by Chimamanda Ngozi Adiche, in which one of the main characters moves from Nigeria to the U.S. for school. "When you visit the home of an American with some money, they will offer to show you their house," she is warned. "Please smile and follow the American and see the house and make sure you say you like everything." Sounds pretty accurate, doesn't it? I'm finding more and more that Americans have a special way of sugar-coating and approving of most things. We choose not to point out negative aspects, or worse, admit that we don't like something.

I will always remember the first time the husband came to Minnesota and ate dinner with my family. My mom made chicken and remarked that it was a little dry. "Yeah, it is a bit dry," he agreed. I was shocked. Surprised. Appalled, even. I mean, you don't tell someone that the meal they prepared was lacking, do you? Especially not the first time you're meeting them. Nope, not in the States. But apparently in many other places that is fair game.

Let's say someone presents you with something new. Chances are that this new thing (be it a recipe, a movie suggestion or an activity to try) falls on of the following spectrum, with most things falling in the middle (or being good).

In the States, we have the tendency to completely ignore the left side of the spectrum in our comments. (I'm talking about in-person comments towards people we care about. From what I've seen, our comments in online forums are the exact opposite.) Because I started with the food example earlier, I'm going to keep that going to illustrate what I mean. In America, if our friend or relative treats us to a meal that isn't very good or just ok, we'll probably say, "Mmmm, this is good," so we don't hurt their feelings. If the meal happens to be good or really good, chances are that we'll say something along the lines of, "This is great!" And if something is, indeed, great, we'll promptly exclaim, "Wow! This is awesome!"

My husband, on the other hand, is from a culture that doesn't feel the necessity to inflate reactions to such an extreme. To him, the bad is bad, the ok is ok, and the good is, well, the good isn't even necessarily just good. When I try a new recipe, I can expect to hear a comment along the lines of, "This is good, but could improved by this, that or the other thing." And awesome? Well, that word is reserved for nothing short of a miracle.

You can probably imagine our mutual frustration. My poor man makes a meal and is subsequently showered in nothing but compliments (sounds terrible, doesn't it?). What he really wants and even expects, however, is some honesty and advice about how to improve things for next time. So, I've been doing my best to work on this. I've been trying to be more critical and voice opinions other than just the positive. I mean, they do say that honesty is the best policy, and it definitely makes for more interesting conversation.

I also find myself wishing that I wasn't so used to receiving positive reactions when they're not necessarily deserved. If I had come from a culture where honesty was expressed more frequently, I wouldn't find myself needing to develop a thick skin in order to take constructive criticism, and I might take that extra step to improve things that I view as adequate.

At the same time, however, chances are pretty good that I am already aware that my cheesecake crust is a bit soggy or that the soup could use more salt ... so I wouldn't mind being spared the critique and just receiving a enthusiastic compliment instead.

Marriage Musings: "What my baby wants, my baby gets."

I will always remember the first time that I looked at the husband and said "What my baby wants, my baby gets." I will always remember this because it was quite possibly the first time that I consciously, actively, deliberately pushed what I wanted to the side in order to make him happy. (Side note: I realize this makes me sound completely spoiled and self-centered -- which I really hope is not the case -- but this is truly the first time I remember thinking "Ugh, I do not want to do this at all but FINE, I'll do it anyways" and then making up my mind to not only go along with it, but also to enjoy it.) It wasn't some huge, life-shattering event, but in the end, it made a big difference.

Let's back up a bit. In March 2012, we were spending a week in Florida for a spring vacation. It was our first time together since he had proposed, and I was on cloud nine as we enjoyed our time together as an engaged couple.

This is what cloud nine looks like.

Yet all I wanted to do was lay on the beach. Lay on the beach, dip my toes in the ocean, soak up the sun, and repeat. Yes, that is pretty much all I had planned. It was my only break from school and student teaching that semester, and I felt that I deserved to be a lazy pile of bones if I wanted to. The husband, quite contrarily, had had enough of laying around. He was ready to get off the lounge chairs, take a shower, walk along the beach and into town, and find a place for dinner ... a plan that was much more active than what I had in mind. But, I could see that he needed to move, so as I stood up to head into the condo, I looked at him and said:

"What my baby wants, my baby gets."

I felt a bit cranky at first, but quickly realized that a cranky partner for the evening was not what he wanted, and not what I had agreed to with my previous comment. So, I sucked it up and let him call the shots. As we left the condo and started walking, I could see the husband getting excited for the evening and my spirits were also lifted. We had a long, romantic walk into town along the shore and an even more romantic evening together. An evening that has proved to be one of the most memorable nights of our trip, and an evening that never would have happened had I been stubborn and selfish.

This saying has now become quite commonplace in our marriage, and I believe it has made a big difference. Marriage is, obviously, about compromise, but I think you can even take that one step further. Marriage is about noticing when your partner wants or needs something more than you may want or need something else ... and then making it happen.

Ever since that day in March, the husband and I have taken care to notice when the other has an idea that they feel strongly about. We then we recite our little mantra and put it into action. I urge you to try it in your own life. I bet you'll find that not only is the happiness it brings to your partner (or friend or parent or sibling) infectious, but making it a point to push your wants aside for the benefit of another feels great as well. It's a win-win situation, I'm telling you!

Marriage Musings: Always Kiss Me Goodnight

Welcome to the first installment of a series of posts I've decided to call marriage musings. This might be a little ambitious since, to date, I only have three ideas for what I'm going to include in the series, but I'm just going to push on anyways with the confidence that more will come with time.

For this first marriage musing, I'm going to have to come right out and say that our married life is going quite swimmingly. The other day, as we were watching our nightly episode of Six Feet Under, one of the characters made a comment about the first year of marriage being the toughest. We immediately exchanged a glance and noted that we have not yet felt that way. I attribute this to three things. First, we're undoubtedly still in that honeymoon phase you hear so much about. Secondly, I think we're still on cloud nine that we're actually together. In the same city. With no plane ticket ominously looming over our heads waiting to call one of us back home. No, now we're creating a home together, and that is a truly wonderful feeling. Lastly, I feel that we really work at our relationship, our connection and our communication.

I hesitate to use the word work, but because my thesaurus is failing me, I guess I have to. I hesitate because, though we do work at our marriage, it doesn't feel like work. I can honestly say that I enjoy the effort I put forth to make things run smoothly. When the husband is happy, I feed off his happiness. And when I know that I contributed to his good mood, that feels even better. The work is most definitely worth it.

Plus, a lot of our efforts are fun.

Over the summer, during one of my many trips to the Albert Cuyp Markt, I came across this piece of artwork slash photo display that, despite it's kind of ugly hodgepodge appearance, had a good message.

Always kiss me goodnight.

Of course! Began my inner monologue.

Of course I kiss my man goodnight every night. 
I totally do. Right? 
Yea, I do. I must. 
Why wouldn't I?

I decided that day to really pay attention to these goodnight kisses. It just made sense.

So now, each and every night, I make sure to set aside a special moment. I take the time to say goodnight, and give that handsome husband of mine a kiss. This tiny moment in time gives us one last chance to really connect before we fall asleep. And not only is it nice, it's almost therapeutic as it requires you to leave some of the stress of the day behind you. After all, to give a meaningful kiss, you can't be angry. To give a meaningful kiss, you have to be present. To give a meaningful kiss, you have to let yourself love and feel loved. That hardly seems like work.