More on home, expectations, and such

About a year ago, we came home to Knoxville after a visit to Fort Wayne. It was the first time in my life that I didn't think of leaving the Fort as leaving home. 

If you know us, or have read this blog, you know Nathan and I never planned or wanted to leave Fort Wayne. Somehow, we both managed to spend all of our growing up years and early adulthood in that city. As a place, it was my firmest idea of home. It was a heartbreaking decision to leave. Before all three of us even moved to the new place in Illinois, we knew it probably wouldn't work long term. That realization came so quickly and unexpectedly. 

I came to Tennessee pretty upset that we were even farther from Indiana. We never, ever intended to move twice. I hated it. After a few months of hard adjustment (and some helpful insight thanks to Just Moved! Ministries that moving actually is hard), one might say that I dragged myself into trying to make Knoxville home...I stubbornly didn't want to; I missed my idea of home terribly. But, my efforts worked. Knoxville became home. I really thought we'd spend the next fifteen years here. I suppose it only makes sense that now we have to leave.

I have no expectations of staying in Indianapolis long term. Our history now informs us that it's only a mere possibility. 

The idea of home has been a mess for me these last four years. Like I said in the last post, I don't like learning from this. I put in so much work and dream so many long term dreams about home as a place and certain people just to leave them and have to start all over. I recognize the benefit of the lesson, though. I do believe that only God is constant, is everywhere, is unchanging, is home. And this experience is really *ahem* driving that home.

Hebrews 13:8 Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever.

Daniel 7:14 ...And His kingdom is one which will not be destroyed.

Psalm 18:2 The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer; my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold.

Here We Go Again

We are going to move again. I hate moving. It's right up there with death of a loved one and serious illness. Our first two big moves have been hard, lonely processes. Both of them have also brought beautiful people into our lives. It's so hard leaving them. I've been crying for days. Starting over is the worst. I do realize that it can get better, but that new beginning has (for me, so far) really sucked. 

I fully believed we would live in Tennessee for a long time. I did not, in any way, count on the serious downsides that are ultimately influencing the decision to leave. I made this place home. I can hardly wrap my mind around leaving already. I don't know if I'll be able to consider any place home again. Dramatic? Maybe. Ugh, I hate moving.

Three years ago, I would have welcomed a move back to Indiana with open arms and much excitement. Now, I'm going because it means so much to my husband. (Please know he repeatedly offered to turn the opportunity down for my sake. But marriage is so much give and take and I can't ignore what this means to him).

I know God is in the pain and the process and I (do my best to) trust Him for the bigger picture. I am also learning that He needs to be my place because the physical places have been taken from me far too easily and the loss devastates me every time. 

We believed we were going to raise a family in Ft. Wayne. We almost believed we were going to do it in northern Illinois. We believed for sure it would happen in Knoxville. I've lost hope it'll happen anywhere except the everywhere that the Lord dwells. And that's still hard. Because I want a permanent place and familiar people so much. 

Psalm 18:10 The name of the Lord is a strong tower.

Colossians 2:7 ...so walk in him, rooted and built up in him, established in the faith...

Isaiah 43:19 ...I will make a way in the wilderness and streams in the dessert.

And one that was shared with me recently, Jeremiah 33:3 Call to me and I will answer you, and will tell you great and hidden things that you have not known.

When Food is a Problem

When I was in college, an older couple invited me and a classmate to dinner for a project we were working on. I don't remember the details of the project, but I remember the dinner:

Grilled steak kabobs with onions, peppers, and mushrooms. I choked the meal down and politely nodded in agreement as my classmate raved over how wonderful it tasted. When I got back to my dorm, my roommate was bewildered that I would feel ill after a meal that sounded so amazing. I was trying hard to get over the texture of grilled onions, peppers, and mushrooms in my mouth. I felt silly trying to explain it.

Before we left Illinois, I went to a dinner for my MOPS group. Someone brought a pan of pasta from a local restaurant because it was the "BEST stuff ever." I tried it, but I could barely swallow the combination of chicken, garlic, and onion. It was awful.

I remember gagging on spaghetti and other Italian dishes regularly as a child. I have had nightmares about onions. I wish I was making that up, because seriously. Who has onion nightmares? I vividly remember the time I (around 7 years old) took a big bite of mashed potatoes, only to gag so hard I threw up. I wasn't expecting them to be full of potato peels and taste strongly of garlic.

When Andrew started to refuse food a couple years ago, I was ok with it. We'd made a big move, his world had changed, and I completely understood food texture issues. When he gagged to the point of throwing up, I got it. Except that he kept regressing, eating less and less, refusing foods that had once been acceptable, stressing me the heck out. And I was already stressed at the time. I hated moving. I know my child picked up on it. Did my stress cause his eating to worsen? 

I don't know. He was a better eater once, but never a great one. He was occasionally gagging on food before he started refusing so much of it. And the fact that his peers seem to go for treats so easily (ice cream, donuts, popcorn, chips, etc) and he has never done that...I don't know. Then there's family history. Me. My father-in-law is very picky. I'm told my maternal grandfather was very picky. Maybe it all condensed into my child. 

We've been in feeding therapy for nearly a year. It is, by nature, a slow therapy. We're exploring sensory processing disorder and hoping for answers on that soon. It would help explain his problems sleeping and a few other issues (and maybe help with food!). In the meantime, I am a mom who never in a million years imagined that extreme picky eating would be our biggest struggle yet in raising a child. Here's to figuring it all out and praying for improvements.

My Two Cents

I think every blogger who cares about it has said everything there is to be said about Fifty Shades of Grey. 

Here are my two cents anyway.

When I was working at the library reference desk a few years ago, a woman with a child in tow came up and asked me in a quiet voice if we had "the latest mommy porn book all the moms are talking about." I had heard about Fifty Shades of Grey, but that was the first time I paid attention. I had not yet heard "mommy porn," and I was a bit shocked she was searching for such a thing in the presence of a child. Shortly after, Fifty Shades became the next big thing, and I heard much more about it.

I found the fascination with the book to be confusing at first. It's not the first pornographic or erotic piece of fiction aimed at women. So, why did it become such a big deal? Why not another book? I think there are a few reasons. Fifty Shades started as Twilight fan fiction, so it was able to spring off of another hugely popular book series. Twilight already had a fan base of moms. Other blogs I've read have stated that porn use is on the rise among women. We live in a time when the media loves a shocking story, and "sex sells" is a well known adage. Combine it all, and Fifty Shades of Grey explodes into a big story.  

Today, I was with a group of moms who started discussing the Fifty Shades of Grey movie. A couple of them made a really good point that is sticking with me: if we, as Christians, are not ok with Fifty Shades of Grey, then what else should we not be ok with? What about all the movies that portray sex outside of marriage as a good thing? I am a chick flick, romantic comedy kind of girl. But if I am ok watching movies where the characters jump into bed together outside of marriage, am I any better than the Christian woman going to see Fifty Shades of Grey at the theater? No. I'm really not. And that's not to mention any other sinful issues in my life.

While I fully agree with all of the people who are opposed to Fifty Shades of Grey, I think I need to pay more attention to what I allow into my own life under the guise of entertainment. I don't think that's an easy thing to do, but I do think it's important.

On Facebook

I first heard about it senior year in college. I'd be standing in line in the cafeteria to pay for lunch when I would hear the girl in front of me say to her friend, "I found so many people from high school on Facebook. I thought I'd never see some of them again!"

I'd go to class and hear someone say, "I used to play with my neighbor every day until we were ten. Then she moved away and I never saw her again, but I just found her on Facebook!"

After overhearing a handful of these conversations, I decided to create a Facebook account. It was still only for people with .edu email addresses. You couldn't post statuses yet, but you could choose how you were feeling from a drop down list of emotions. My first "status update" about Facebook was, in fact, made on AOL Instant Messenger. I informed my friends that I'd joined after hearing about it so many times around campus.

How it has changed.

I like Facebook for two main reasons. The first is that I can stay in touch with family in a way that I couldn't before. We "see" each other more often, thanks to Facebook. It does not replace real life interactions, but it keeps me updated on family news. The second reason is that it helps me feel more connected in general, especially this year. As a new stay at home mom in a new state in the dead of winter, Facebook provided a daily reminder that other people were out there, kept me connected to friends I'd left behind, and kept me in touch with other moms. 

I was seriously hoping the active Facebook mom community I had back home would be here, too. I was disappointed to find it lacking. The majority of people I've met here avoid Facebook or use it sparingly (and I can understand that). I wonder if it'll be more active in our new town.

I do wonder what life would be like without it. I have occasionally thought about cutting Facebook out of my life. Like many others, I also fall victim to the comparison game. I see those status updates and pictures that make so-and-so's life look perfect, and I get jealous. For a while, it contributed heavily to my homesickness. I almost cut Facebook out at that point. Almost. Without it, I wouldn't have nearly as many people to compare to myself. I might devote the time I spend reading status updates to something more important. 

(Side note: before Facebook, I devoted a lot of time to reading books. I'm a huge advocate of reading, but I don't know that it's more important than other things I *could* be doing instead. I kind of think I'd go back to reading more in lieu of Facebook...)

As I'm writing this, I'm thinking that the mom connection is currently the strongest reason I stay on Facebook. I don't want to repeat all the mom bloggers out there, but I probably will, because staying home is what I've known this past year and it is much harder than I thought it would be. I was not prepared for the overwhelming sense of isolation and boredom I have experienced. I have found that I desperately want to be out of our apartment at least once day. I am not good at sitting on the floor and playing with my child for hours on end. I WANT to be good at it, but mostly I feel like I'll go crazy. As I've shared before, he's not good with staying home for hours on end, either...but I still feel so hugely isolated. I can't quite nail it down. We go to MOPS and play dates and small group and story time and parks and church, but it never feels like enough. At home, we do chores and meals and take walks (and I can't wait till we have a house again with space for projects and messes), but I still feel like I'm stuck and alone and bored. To bring this back to Facebook, seeing all the other moms I know post similar thoughts and feelings helps me quite a bit.

Maybe it's just the "mommy trenches" that I hear about...toddler life is trying, after all. Maybe this is just where God has me, allowing me to experience this stuff for some reason I don't yet know. Or, maybe I need therapy. Haha. But, as for Facebook, I plan to stick with it for now.

here we go again

Eleven months ago: Nathan had been in Illinois for about two months. I was still in Fort Wayne, working and waiting for our house to sell. Nathan came home for a weekend visit. We went out to dinner, and he informed me that things weren't going well. I had just started to suspect he wasn't happy with our new place in life, and this confirmed it. 

We stopped house hunting and focused on apartments and storage facilities. Nathan wanted to stay with his job for at least a year. After that, he only knew that he wanted to leave this corner of northern Illinois. When Andrew and I moved out here, it didn't take long for me to agree. It's a nice area, but we can't easily afford to live in it.

I had no idea how long we would be in Illinois. Nathan started job searching before the one year mark. He had several offers, but nothing quite fit. The job search that landed us in Illinois was a bit rushed, as his old company was bought out and layoffs were imminent. We wanted to carefully and prayerfully consider options this time. 

The options have been considered. A very good opportunity has come from Tennessee, so we are moving. Again. God knows I never dreamed of living in three states in three years. In fact, it's still something I don't want...I very selfishly want us all to just go back home. I hope that changes, even when I am admittedly bad at changing. This experience has, if nothing else, taught me that I simply can't control where I live.

I will not miss the area very much, but I will miss the people. We've met some pretty amazing people, which I did not think would happen in the space of one year. It will be hard to leave them behind and start over, yet again, making friends. I hope the people we meet in Tennessee are as great as they are here. 

the weight

I think I've established that moving was hard. It's still hard. I don't feel like I've completely transitioned yet, and although people say I should give it two years, I wonder if two years really will make a difference. For the record, it has been eight months.

One of the many things the move brought was a lack of physical activity for me. I'm no longer spending twenty hours a week getting up and down at the library. I was semi-consistent with working out at home because our basement served as a convenient workout area. All of our exercise equipment is now in storage and inaccessible until we get a house. I can't exercise with Andrew around because he doesn't have the patience for it. Gym memberships are out. I don't really want to spend money on workout videos. Jumping of any sort is out, as we're not on a ground floor. And taking care of Andrew is a lot of work, but it is definitely not exercise. 

I also hate exercising. I don't get any good feelings when I do it. None. Ever. Hence, the excuses above. They might be valid, but they are still excuses.

I have gained weight in the eight months we've been here. Most of my clothes don't fit anymore. I am physically uncomfortable. All. The. Time. I could probably deal with the extra weight if I weren't so uncomfortable. I don't know how much I've gained (the scale is in storage, too), but I gotta do something. If it's a good day, I get an hour and a half to myself during nap time. I need to put a work out in there. Then, the really hard part, I need to stick with it. Despite the lack of good feelings, the absence of that positive rush, and the fact that I've never been consistent with a workout for longer than a month. Ugh. As Nike once said, "Just do it." That's probably the only way.

the persistence of homesickness

Every morning, I wake up and think first of home. I think about what I would be doing today and who I would see. The people, the house, the buildings, the roads, all of it, is so deeply ingrained. Whenever I need to go somewhere here, I think almost dually of how I would get to the equivalent place if I were home. I am amazingly homesick. Yes, I am quite sure it is ridiculous to some degree, but it persists.

I am trying. I'm getting involved here, trying to "get out there," and it helps. But I still miss home daily, sometimes desperately. It is, again, probably ridiculous to view one city as "home." I can grasp that there is more to the concept of "home" than that.

We don't know the future. We thought we did, but it was knocked out from under us, and now our future is even more uncertain than it was then. I suppose that's the big lesson in all of this.

Please know that I'm not trying to make people feel bad for me. I'm not looking for sympathy. I've heard all the advice and it's appreciated. I'm just processing, and blogging helps.

What should I say?

This article about what moms don't say in regards to new motherhood recently appeared on my Facebook feed and I read it with great interest. I found everything on the list to be true to my own experience. From what I remember only two people really spoke to me about the difficulties of becoming a parent. One told me about some serious breast feeding issues she'd faced. With the other, it wasn't even specifics, just some general "it's really hard and I am so tired" comments.

Everyone told me that being a mom would be great and I would love it and, yes, it wouldn't be easy, but I would just love it. I do love my little one and there are great times and I would not give it up. I just wonder if it might have been different if more people had told me about the difficulties of those first months with baby.

I felt like I got hit by a truck after giving birth. I did not love it. I did not like it. I thought something was horribly wrong with me because I was supposed to be loving it. Everyone said I would love it! My poor husband didn't know what to do with my misery because he was supposed to be loving it, too. I kept it from everyone else because it must have been just me; I had to be doing something wrong. And then I couldn't stand it and went to the doctor and she said I had postpartum depression.

I posted a blog about my experience shortly after my PPD diagnosis. Suddenly, all these moms were telling me about how hard having a baby was for them. I was so relieved that it wasn't just me. That was a big aspect of my recovery. 

I have wondered ever since why I didn't hear about the difficulties before baby. Maybe that part was just me... I didn't know to look for them or ask about them. But some of the same people who said I'd love it also said it was so, so hard after I told them I was depressed.

I don't judge them because I also wonder if I help perpetuate this problem. I don't readily tell my first-time pregnant friends about my experiences. I wonder if I should, because for me they were pretty bad. I don't want to scare these new moms or make having a baby sound like the first step to depression. I know it's not always that hard for everyone, but it does seem to be hard for many people. I will gladly talk about it if asked, but I really don't know how to bring it up unasked. And maybe that is why only two people told me (unasked!) about the hardships of the early months of parenthood.

on staying home

What do stay at home moms do all day?

Last week was my first official week as a sahm. We were still living with my parents because we were stuck in a snowstorm. It wasn’t too hard because I had their help and company. 

This is my first official week as a sahm without help. Ha. Thanks to my husband’s mad organizational skills, Andrew and I moved into our apartment on Saturday and we are pretty well settled three days later. 

And now…what am I supposed to do? I mean, yes, there are three meals a day and regular diaper changes and play and discipline, but I have no idea what kind of routine to create. It’s really weird to not have to be anywhere. It’s really weird to not know anyone within a ten minute driving distance. I can’t even get in my car and drive without the help of Google maps because I don’t know where anything is around here. Plus, it’s against the law to drive and use a phone. Which is good, but still. It makes going out feel like a pain, and then I just don’t do it.

Then there’s Andrew, who doesn’t sit in a stroller or cart very well. He wants to run and get into everything and the playgrounds are cold and yucky for another few months. He is another reason it’s hard to get out, even though I know he’s bursting at the seams to get out. It feels like chaos when I take him to a store, and so, well, I don’t. 

Ah, if only we’d moved in the springtime. Three and a half more months!

While I know routines and relationships and familiarity will come eventually, I still find myself wondering what stay at home moms do, because I feel like I am facing a lot of potential boredom! I’m guessing they go places and just deal with the fits of little ones. I’ll have to learn.

I’m starting to wonder if I’m not stay at home mom material. I know, I know, it’s way too soon to tell. It hasn’t even been a week. But that’s how bored I already am!

*I should clarify. I only have one child. My only stay-at-home stint was during maternity leave, and I battled some serious depression and physical pain at that time. I know plenty of sahm moms with more than one kid or a kid with extra needs who seem to always be busy. I know what stay at home moms “do,” this is mostly about how I have no idea what I am doing!

On leaving

As I write this, I am sitting in an empty house that tomorrow will no longer be ours.

Yes, I want my family back together. Yes, it will be amazing and wonderful to have my husband home every night and on weekends. Yes, it's awesome and a big deal that he has a steady job no matter where it is.

Still, moving away sucks.

A year and a half ago, we found the perfect home. We moved in, anticipating at least 15 years in this beautiful house that fit all our wishes for a family home. I imagined this as the place my son would grow up. I loved the idea of being near family and friends and all things familiar.

Then came whispers of layoffs and relocations. Nathan started a job search to play it safe, and we quickly discovered his ideal job would probably take us away from home. And then it did. So we go to a tiny apartment with the promise of another move about a year away.

I will follow my husband anywhere. I believe in his work, he is great at it, and I love it when he loves his job. But leaving is still hard. I didn't know how much I loved being here till I couldn't be here anymore.

My hope and prayer is that I won't become bitter about this. I teeter on the edge of bitterness a lot lately, constantly telling myself that I really have nothing to be upset about. We're healthy and there is employment and we will be together. There are people who can't say that.

What next?

Thoughts on the future...

The drive isn't fun. Why is the speed limit on 294 fifty-five if everyone insists on 75, 85, and, I swear, 100?? I white knuckled the steering wheel for a while. Horrifying for one who doesn't like to drive!

We looked at four houses. Three of them were FILTHY. I work so hard to keep our home clean for showings (absolutely spotless next to what we saw!) and these people let their homes collect inches of dust and cobwebs and bugs...oh, the bugs.

Why hasn't our house sold yet?? It's so clean!!!

That's the rant.

Good stuff? Well, it was pretty. Lots of nature preserves and walking/biking paths. Lots of stores people here often drool over (Trader Joe's, Whole Foods, etc). Lots of neighborhoods that look nice. Plenty of decent schools, even if we're still a bit confused on how districts work.

It'll be ok. Maybe even great. In the meantime, I'm still working on the idea of leaving home. I still can't say I'm excited for this change. On the other hand, I am extremely ready to have my little family back together. I'll take the change for that!

HUGE changes

We are moving to Illinois.

Just typing that is surreal.

Nathan’s job wasn’t going well. He started a job search a while back that led him out of state. He got several offers (because he is awesome at his job) and then he got a really good offer. And we are moving.

To say we’re not super excited about this is an understatement. We wanted to stay. We grew up here. We love our house that we’ve only been in a little over a year. We wanted to raise our son here. Our families and friends are here and we are very content with the familiarity of this place. This is home.

The immediate challenges this poses are a little overwhelming. We have to repaint our kitchen and keep Andrew from destroying the walls with food. Well-timed sippy cup drops are brutal! Then we have to put our beautiful home on the market and pray it sells quickly. Nathan needs a place to stay near his new job. We’ll be apart until our house sells. We need to buy a new house in an area where we are already finding school districts to be difficult.

I need to quit my job. I love my job so much. It makes me sad. :( On a happy note, I get to stay there till the house sells. (Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU, grandparents!!) I will not look for another job in Illinois. I’ll get to be a stay-at-home mom after all. I hope to get back into a library in the years ahead, when daycare won’t be so necessary.

There are positives. The final sale of this house will be one of them, as it will lift a huge financial burden. We both think the new job will relieve some of the stress we’ve experienced as a family. I’ll get to decorate a home without the threat of a move hanging over it. I have no idea what God has planned for us in Illinois, but this good job for Nathan is already a blessing.

 It’s just going to be hard to leave this place. It is home in a way that feels woven into the very fiber of my being. That sounds intense, but it’s true.

Matthew 6:25-27
“Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?

pffft

Some days, I seriously wonder how I keep myself and my child alive. Clothed. Fed. Mostly clean.

Today is such a day. I’m exhausted. We’ve been battling colds and assorted sicknesses for months now. I think one of us catches something every other week. Not kidding. It’s starting to wear me down. Nap scheduling has gotten all messed up. Clingy-ness is at an all-time high. I can’t do anything without a tiny person holding on to my leg and screaming because I’m not holding him. And to top it all off, some huge changes are looming on the horizon for our family. Details of that are for a future post, but I include it because it has contributed to the stress.

As I was watching said tiny person play (without fussing!) earlier today, I was thinking about how we’ve all three been little puddles of misery in the past few months.

Really, we do not have it that bad. Basic blessings include food, clothing, and shelter. On a daily basis. My husband and I both have jobs. We might be sick, but we are not desperately ill. We have a lot and then some. I don’t know why that can be hard to remember in the midst of hardship that is, in all truthfulness, pretty minor.

And now to go find something for this headache. I am blessed to have access to helpful medicine. :)

what sleep is not

About three months ago, we made plans to go to a concert and have Andrew spend the night with his grandparents.

To say I was looking forward to it is an understatement. I was literally hanging onto it as a beacon of hope for the future, and not because I was excited about the concert. 

I was excited to sleep in. No baby on Saturday morning to wake me up at 5:30 or 6 in the AM. Waking up on my own. Lounging in bed. A lazy morning of breakfast with a good book on my own time. I was more excited for that than I was for Christmas.

I used it to get through hard days.

If we had a particularly fussy day… “Two months till I can sleep in.”

If I was really tired or stressed… “Three weeks till I can sleep in.”

When we all caught colds… “Soon, I can sleep in.”

And then, the night before the concert, we got a phone call. Grandma was sick and could no longer take the baby for the night. 

I was CRUSHED. (Disclaimer- I’m not at all upset with grandma. I felt awful that she got sick.)

We still got to go to the concert, thanks to Andrew’s other wonderful grandma coming over to watch him and put him to bed, but my dreams of a quiet, restful morning were in pieces.

Yes, it was that dramatic to me at the time. And boy, did I feel stupid. I had put my hopes in something so temporary. It was just one morning. I wrapped so much hope and emotion into one morning that would have come and gone in the blink of an eye. I know better, or I thought I did.

Psalm 62:5 “Yes my soul, find rest in God; my hope comes from him.”

Isaiah 49:23 “…those who hope in me will not be disappointed.”

Romans 15:13 “May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.”

Real hope does not come from a morning of sleeping in. It comes from God. 

My challenge in the coming months is to remember that!

um, yeah...

Two things:

1. We got day care! Praise God, it worked out! 

2. The rest of this post might be a little hokey. It’s not like me to care about such things, but darn it, they’ve been on my mind!

Boy Meets World is revamping with Girl Meets World. Told you! 

Okay. Back in the 90s, I watched that show every week, from the time it started until the series finale. I was a fan of the early years (I was also ages 11 through 14 in those early years) and less of a fan in the later years. The relationship created for Cory and Topanga is one that I have often read about or heard about as the “perfect” relationship.

Really, I’m not making that up. This seems to be a sentiment held by people around my age who also grew up watching the show. It makes sense- Childhood friends who fall in love, go through hard times, overcome the difficulties to get married, and face the future together as a team. Classic love story. 

What bothers me is that it was SO CORNY. Oh. My. Gosh. So corny. “But,” one might argue, “you still watched it!” Well, yeah, I did, and I don’t even think I could explain why I still watched it (I was young? My friends watched it? The Feeny call?), but most episodes made me cringe once Cory and Topanga became a couple. Their relationship seemed so over done with really phony, overly emotional dialogue. 

Am I the only one who thought they were so fake? Does it even matter?? Not at all! It was a television show!! It’s just that so many people have been talking about it lately and it has been on my mind. So there you go. End of post.