Enough.

I'm immersed in Present Over Perfect right now, Shauna Niequist's book that I pre-ordered months ago. I'm 36 pages in, and already, this stands out: 

"A friend and I recently talked about how invested we both are in people thinking that we're low maintenance – we both want to be seen as flexible, tough, roll-with-anything kinds of women. And this ends up keeping us from asking for what we need, for fear of being labeled difficult or diva-ish."

I have no fear of being labeled difficult. But I do have a simmering resentment that those fears are not misplaced. I've spoken up about time with my family and have been told that it was a "power play." And no one else protested that label but me. Something is very, very wrong when expressing needs, drawing boundaries, advocating for equal say is labeled as being difficult or controlling.

I work way too hard – both at my actual job, and then again, at home – and am way too tired, you know, growing a human being and all, to be ok with this: being mocked and vilified for asking for partnership, in my marriage and in my family. The price for being "flexible" is steep – exhaustion, disconnection, resentment; the penalty for speaking up is equally heavy – malignment, contempt, and the most emotionally hurtful label any mother can be given, "selfish."

I would love to wake up one day and realize that I was being silly and ridiculous and that what I thought was reality was just a figment of my imagination. But seven years into marriage, and this is still the alternate universe that I'm living in.

The women say, "Self-care! Happy moms are the best moms." And the men say, "Sure, honey, rest up. I'll just be spending the afternoon playing the most expensive, elitist, and time-consuming sport known to man – golf." 

I would love to take a spa day – sipping mocktails by the pool after an hour-long pregnancy massage and another hour-long facial. But that would take precious time away from my boys and precious money away from actual needs – diapers, student loans, an umbrella stroller for our upcoming trip.

I was an Econ major. I am well-versed in opportunity cost, trade-offs, optimization models. And yet, how do I optimize this life? How do I check off the boxes of: nourished, fulfilled, connected and also the boxes: good mother, happy wife?

I want to be heard, I want to be acknowledged, I want partnership. When has that turned into too much to ask for?

There's been a lot of talk of injustices lately, and for good reason. There is a danger to silencing voices, a danger to using privilege and your own metrics to compel others to live the same way you do. These inequalities are not just in the space of the "other." They coexist in our own homes and our own families. They play out in our otherwise happy lives, in the early morning silence, behind closed doors.

I don't have an answer to this. I love my husband, I love my family, I love my work. And yet: enough. I'm tired of struggling for partnership. I'm tired of justifying my needs. I'm tired of competing and negotiating and strategizing for a good marriage. I am straight-up, unapologetically tired.

January Book Club: Date Night In

Datenightin

The day that David proposed, he assembled a picnic of food from our favorite places. He picked up roast beef sandwiches from Clementine’s, mint lemonade from Literati, strawberry steak salad from Damon & Pythias, cupcake babies from Vanilla Bake Shop. I had an early class, and all I wanted was to go back to my room and take a nap. But the food convinced me. He was speaking my language, a language that I had discovered sometime in college, somewhere along our string of dates.

Seven years since then, some of my favorite memories involve food, with him.

There was Athens on our honeymoon. We took naps in the afternoon, sunburned and tired form the heat of the day. By the time we woke up, the subway was closed, so we would take a taxi to the plaka. One night, we had street gyros after seeing Public Enemies on a building rooftop. Another night, we ate dinner by moonlight, al fresco at a restaurant that served us watermelon after our meal. It was the best watermelon I’ve ever tasted.

Then, on our first anniversary, there were strawberries in wine at a little restaurant on a corner in Santa Barbara, one of my favorite places in the world. On vacation in Palawan, on our island-hopping tours, we ate fish, bought fresh at that morning’s market, grilled over a fire, small enough that we could each have our own. And afterwards, in town, halo-halo that we ate out of pastel-colored plastic ice cream sundae glasses.

In Shanghai, our home for over a year, we lunched at Mr. and Mrs. Bund for David’s birthday, one of about five days in the city where the sky was actually blue. The sauce served with the steak was foamed, and the fruit with lime and pop rocks will always be a favorite. The first time we went to Da Dong in Beijing, we walked for miles in the freezing cold, not realizing that there was a location down the street from our hotel. The Peking Duck is the best there – the skin so crispy that it melts in your mouth and the sauce almost a molasses, rich and dark. They have complimentary drinks in the waiting area, because there is always a wait at Da Dong, and the last time we went, they had pitchers of a strawberry whisky cocktail.

We celebrated our 4-year anniversary in Paris and the wedding of one of my college roommates. The only time we’ve ever ordered a full bottle of wine for ourselves was in Paris, at Le Bistrot Paul Bert, where Dave picked out the best Pinot Noir i’ve ever had and where the raspberry macaron we had for dessert was the size of my head.

Fancy dinners out aren’t at the top of our list now, with a baby and my strong affinity for sweat pants. But date nights are more important than ever, when we take time to connect not about work or bills, but about our hopes and fears and the work that God is doing in our hearts these days.

This month, I’m reading

Date Night In: More than 120 Recipes to Nourish Your Relationship

 not only in the kitchen, but on the couch. It’s already found a place on my coffee table, along with

Our Q&A a Day: 3-Year Journal for 2 People

that I get so excited to fill in every day (that would make a great gift for Valentine’s Day, if you’re looking ahead).

One of the big themes in my life seems to be 

waiting

. And the other big theme, it seems, is 

creating space

. I want to do more of it in 2015, starting with date nights in, starting with cooking through this book, creating space to connect month by month.