25 Questions to Ask Your Mate on Date Night

My husband and I just celebrated (so, maybe more like "observed") our 33rd wedding anniversary recently. Yay! Congratulations to us!! Where have the years gone?

It got me thinking...there are a lot of semi-silly ideas out there floating around about how to keep your marriage either "hot," or "interesting," or "livable." One maybe not-so-silly proposal is the "date-night" tradition.  I have several young couple friends that like to tell me about how they take one night a week to "date," and I always nod my head agreeably while inwardly smirking at the sweet idealism...alright, if you are a young friend of mine, I NEVER INWARDLY SMIRK AT YOU...I'm just using poetic licence here, OK?

Because of all these young, romantic friends I am lucky enough to receive Facebook links that clue me in to "questions to ask your mate that start a great conversation!!!" Deep things like, "What was your biggest fear as a child?" "What's your favorite tree, and why?" and "If you could change one thing about your feet, what would it be?"

I am very sorry, but after 33 years you'd better come up with something better for me to ask than that. I have been with this man FAR TOO LONG to even CARE about his preference for oaks over pines.

So, for your consideration, here are---

25 questions to ask your mate on a date night (after you've been married for 30 years or more)

1.      What exactly was it that made you want to marry me again?
2.       How many of your socks do you think I've picked up off the bedroom floor in the last 30/35/40/years?
3.       What were you saying as you were drifting off to sleep last night...something about "mayonnaise" and "sheep dip?"
4.       By the way, your Aunt Agnes called again about the family reunion. Yeah, I know that’s not a question.
5.      What's the password for our Netflix account? 
6.       How old is our oldest child? Ok then, quick—what’s his birthday (WITH the year!)?
7.       What is that guy’s name on that show we watch on Tuesdays…you know…the one who was in that   movie we liked…you know…c’mon, help me out here….
8.       Where are my car keys?
9.       Have you seen the cat lately?
10.   Wow—has your hairline changed just recently, or are you just doing a comb-over now?
11.   What is your favorite meal that I cook? (you can choose between hamburgers and hot dogs.)
12.   Could you please start the grill?
13.   Why can’t I ever get my Facebook configuration figured out before they go changing it again?
14.   Do you remember the night we fell in love? No, not that one, the OTHER one!
15.   Could you see if my big toe looks infected?
16.   What kind of things do I do that bug you?
17.   You want to know what you do that bugs me? OK….forget it then.
18.   If we were stranded on a desert island and we could only bring along one living room chair, which one would you pick?
19.   Would you let me sit in it once in a while, or would you hog it most of the time and call it your “command chair?”
20.   Would you like a cup of  coffee?  No?  So, not grown up enough yet, huh? Hahaha…I  know how that annoys you…
21.   So, do you think I love you more than you love me?
22.   Or do you love me more than I love you?
23.   Does it matter?
24.   Why are you furrowing your brow at me?
25.   Are you hoping that this lasts for another 33 years? I sure am!  It’s a riot!

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY, BABE!

Parenthood: The Long Goodbye

...now the new mother, that leaky vessel,

begins to nurse her child,

beginning the long goodbye. 

(Kathleen Norris, "Ascension")

Carefully, reverently, she lifts the blanket covering her daughter. Her eyes travel over the sweet sleeping face, the still hands, the soft hair...perfection. All where it should be...just as God created her.

The hospital garage is cool and quiet. No nurses stand by to ooh and ahh, no family members are able to come in and share this time with her. Her beloved daughter lies peacefully on a gurney beside the ambulance, never to open her eyes again. Never to smile; never to respond to her mother's voice. This is not the "hello" of birth, but the "goodbye" of death. My mother touches my baby's sister's face for the last time. Her 21 busy, fruitful and blessed years of life on earth are over.



When we become a parent, we do not look forward to the possibilities of suffering. We naturally look ahead for our children, but these long gazes down the future tend to be for happy things--smiles, toddling, baby talk, cuddles, and then on to  medical school and financial success. What  mother or father in their right mind looks deep into a newborn baby's eyes and coos "oh, sweetheart, I can see it now...you'll be bullied at school for your overbite, have a boyfriend who abuses you, and won't be able to find a full time job until you are 30. We are so excited!"


And who really, truly can believe that one day that little progeny of ours will willfully walk out of our front door never to return as our dependent child?  Yes, in a sense they will need you. But you know what? They no longer will need your listening ear for every detail of their daily lives. Suddenly, it seems, they will have friends you have never met. Dates you know nothing about. Apartments or dorm rooms you may never get a chance to visit. Griefs and problems of their own they will never share, even with you. You who poured your soul out for their benefit. The umbilical cord is finally, irrevocably cut. And the pain will bring you to your knees.

I had to physically restrain myself when one of my children had a bad experience at their work place...I wanted to march right down there, hands on hips, and say to this manager "How DARE you treat my child like this!! What kind of an idiot manager would treat ANYONE this way? I'm telling on you to your supervisor, and you'd better give my child a raise for all the trouble you've caused!"

OK, mamma bear, I had to remind myself...this "child" is now 18 years old, and beyond your legal defensive screaming. But...but...I don't want any of my children to suffer! Please, let me straighten the path! Let me remove all the rocks, let me make sure the sun shines every day and no bad guys lurk in the shadows! Let me believe they will live forever...

Because that's what it really is. We look down that long, winding path and have that sinking realization that there is nothing we can really do to stop the lurking bad guys. We will be dead and gone, and our children will be walking that path without us to be their personal body guards. In fact, to be truthful, we may continue to walk our own lonely paths while their journey comes to an end. That is probably the hardest and most painful thought of all.

This is the core. This is a secret grief all parents carry. This can be tapped at any random moment, and will bring tears during church sermons, movies, beautiful sunsets, and even coffee commercials. The deep, abiding belief that "behold, children are a gift from the LORD (Psalm 127:3)" and they really are not our property. God can call them back to Himself at any time.

Should this be grievous? Should we complain? Or should we be like Job, who after losing all his children in one disastrous moment, says "The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord"?

I don't know about you, but seeing my mother lose a child and witnessing friends lose children, it seems like God is asking a lot for a "Job" response. And yet--He does. He asks us to back away...to give up...to trust Him with the future and with things most precious to us. He asks us to hold our children in a light grasp, ready to offer them up in a few fleeting years, or in a moment of time. He asks us to say "this is another human being...independent...made in His image for His purposes, not for mine."

Am I ready for that? Probably not. I'm in practice. I have quit giving (well, not so much!) unsolicited advice. I don't call and leave voice messages on their phones (I'm a good girl and always text). I try not to say "so...met anyone special yet?" too often. I don't insist they clean their bedrooms in their apartment 600 miles away. I still tell them I love them. Regularly.  So we shall see. God is working on my heart, one heartbreaking day at a time.

I shall close with my favorite parenting quotation of all time:

“Making the decision to have a child - it is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body. ” (Elizabeth Stone)

May God be with and bless each of us as we both struggle with and share our griefs with each other.

How to Raise Genius Children the Patented Sanders Way

OK, it has been observed my many people that I have 4 of the smartest children on the planet. By many, I mean by my mother and by my children themselves. But I'm sure many of you out there who are blessed enough to know my kids would wholeheartedly agree (except, of course, for the fact that YOU probably think you have the smartest children in the world. Well, you are wrong.)

I know you must be wondering by now...Carla, what IS your secret? Just how did your offspring attain such dizzying heights of intellectual magnificence?

It's a secret for a reason. Do you think I want your litter of humans out there in the big world competing for jobs with mine??

I will, however, let you have just a GLIMPSE; a peripheral glance into the vast system that is--

THE SANDERS SYSTEM for RAISING
 INTELLECTUAL GENIUSES

1. Marry a smart guy

I had little hope of passing on much brain cell power unless I could reproduce with someone of superior fire-power, brain-wise. My husband passed a rigorous test before being chosen as my mate. SAT and ACT scores, GRE scores, all-night Scrabble tournaments and Dr. Who knowledge all factored in.

2. Read to them a lot--major on Dr. Seuss


I like to  read to them in a chair. I do not read them with a bear. Not with a rat, not with a mouse. I only read to them in a house. I like to read them here and there; I read out loud to them everywhere. Bear, rat, mouse, chair; books in our house are EVERYWHERE!!








3. Live in a neighborhood that sparks conversation

Ask any of my children about the benefits of low-cost housing in a major city, and they will respond by assailing you with stories of stolen wagons, house break-ins,  stolen cars, drunks in the driveway, drug dealers in the alley, bike jackings, citizens arrests of garage break-ins, zombie Satanist killers trying to come in the house on an early Sunday morning, gun shot holes in the window sill, muggings, and really interesting SWAT team activity in the neighboring homes.

"So...how was your day?"
"Ah, the usual. Had to call the cops again."
 "Cool. I got an A in math today."

See how that works?

3. Keep them isolated from "cool" people by dressing them in hand-me-downs and thrift store clothes

Who needs the pressure of cheerleader politics and jock culture put-downs? Stick with the proven gangs--chess club, math competitions, crossing guard duty, AV club--anywhere that Payless shoes are accepted attire. Sweatpants fit the bill. As well as haircuts done at 9 PM on a school night by mom in the kitchen.






4. Give them absolutely no privacy

All four of my children shared a bedroom until my youngest was 3 years old. One bunk bed for the boys, a roll-out mattress on the floor for the girls. Rolled up during the day and put in the closet so there was room for play. They spent nights chatting about math theory, theology and the merits of various Pokemon (Pikachu rules, am I right??).




5. Feed them the highest quality Guv'mnt food

The day my oldest son realized I'd been feeding him reconstituted dry milk with his meals all along was a sad and difficult day. I had to swear him to secrecy--"you must NOT reveal this to the other kids, or no more processed cheese for you!" I always hid the 'adult' milk (i.e. 'real') in the back of the refrigerator and didn't let them see me pour it for myself.

The dry egg mix was a real challenge--I usually tried to hide it in another form of food (not always successfully). The canned beef stew may have possibly ended up (I will not confirm this) in the cat's bowl on occasion. The peanut butter, on the other hand, was always consumed wholeheartedly, and contributed to everyone's brain development.

6. Send them to high-quality public schools

I did have a slight concern about a teacher showing "Jurassic Park" in science class, and really did wonder about why kids were feeling compelled to throw chairs at each other in another classroom. But for the most part I found that public education in the inner city held a unique advantage...if you actually got involved as a parent at the school, they would bend over backwards to try to accommodate you. It's especially important to get the crabby school secretary on your side. (I actually brought flowers to one of them. I know; suck-up. It was worth every penny that year.) The school also inadvertently taught my kids survival skills--first duck, then run. Only fight back if absolutely necessary, and PROTECT THOSE GLASSES! However, your place in the lunch-line is God-given. Don't back down on that.



Now, I have other theories about brain development, like how they ate the same homemade pizza every Friday night for years and years, and how they never got many vegetable variations because of my husband's irrational fear of green peppers. But I'll save them for my upcoming cookbook, "Cooking for Brain-Power on the US Government's Dime" (the sequel to my popular "Beans Comin' Out'cha Ears" cookbook published last year).