Monday, August 19, 2013

Roses, Rainbows and Recipes

I think I am the only freak of nature who is soooo over new things. 2013 is the "Year of New" and I am ready for the Era of "Been There Done That".

I cannot tell you how many times a lovesick fifteen year old took over my mind and body as I found myself, at 30, doodling my name over and over again...before we got married...

Monique Danye` Hoskins...Monique Danye`Criddell Hoskins...Monique Hoskins...Mr. &Mrs. James Hoskins...Mrs. Monique Criddell Hoskins

and I smiled and roses and rainbows appeared and a robin perched on my windowsill and tweeted a tune.

Yeah, the process of inaugurating the "new" was not that lovely and sweet. 
Ladies, changing your name is 1. annoying and complicated and 2. quite traumatizing. 
The social security lines are just long. 
There is nothing romantic about waiting for your number to appear on a scrolling marquee in a room full of strangers...Which is why I have yet to get a new license. Don't tell James. 

Although, I don't know if I haven't visited the DMV because of inconvenience or because that 2x3 inch piece of plastic is the last shred of my former identity; plus my picture looks great...This made the blog so I am guessing it is probably the latter. I love discovering things as I type. 

I can't help but to feel that changing my name is some sort of betrayal to my family of Criddell's. My poor dad, who adores James, "forgets" my last name each time we talk. 

"Hello, Mrs. Crid errrr uhhhh, Hopps...Husk...Hoskins...yeah that's it, Hoskins."

I have a new name attached to a man other than my father who has loved, supported and cared for me for 31 years. I have a new "home" because wherever James is that is home and it actually feels like it. I have a new job that James knows more about from day to day than my family. I have a new church and new friends. I have an entirely new family...I even have a new mac and cheese casserole recipe...You don't understand just how deep things just got. This may be more crucial than my name.

This dish is more important than Thanksgiving turkey and Christmas ham. 

It is a legendary Criddell recipe.

Angels take pause to sing when the oven opens. 

And yesterday I changed the recipe to something brand new....Don't tell mom. 

 I LITERALLY had to talk myself into it. . I changed my mind a few times.

Sundays are our clean eating days because we until the plate is clean. I'm talking about the most fatty, carb-infused meals I can think to make. It's a Hoskins' House Rule. On Sundays calories don't count unless you count them. So I turned on some gospel music, took out a few sticks of butter and got to cooking. James and I melted into OUR newness. This is what Sundays would smell like for us and our future family...reeeallll buttery and warm. 

As good as the new felt and always feels, at least momentarily, I could hear my old name calling out in desperation. 
She is afraid of  being forgotten.
She is just going to have to learn that she is not being left behind. 
She can come along with all of her old recipes and family traditions.  

The old has been so good to me but I still get butterflies when I write my new name. Roses bloom on Sundays at the Hoskins' house and the robins are warming up. Rainbows appear when we kayak. And I'm pretty sure that the angels gave a celestial, slow-clap standing ovation when I opened the oven to the new mac and cheese...because it.was.good.


Thursday, August 15, 2013

Gold Nugget Bride

August, something, 1999, my parents were held up at pen-point by Xavier University of Louisiana. They emptied out their bank account and left me waving them goodbye as I forced and faked wanning confidence. I was now a XULA Gold Nugget (really, why did that name get all the votes?)...and I had no idea, whatsoever, how to be a gold nugget, because, what does that even mean, first of all, and second, all I knew about college was dating (which I had yet to experience), parties (which just was not my scene) and staying up to study (ok I can do that one). Was I just supposed to become a shiny, priceless metal destined for academic success overnight or would I morph overtime somehow melding my identity into that of my new future alma mater? Fear? I didn't even know what to be afraid of. I just knew if I was going to survive I had to become a nugget and quick.

August, something (the 8th I think), 2008 I dumped my savings into first month's rent, deposits, U-haul fees and first installments at Truett Seminary. I moved into a cavernous, snow white apartment furnished by A couch, A TV and A kitchen table...I had no need for the table. I dropped every dime I earned to pick a new identity. I went from being nugget (to a Lumberjack at SFA...you get the rhythm I'm beating out) now to a Baylor Bear. Bears are awesome! Right? I mean, we are both brown so that's a start. No one told me how to be a bear but I spent some time as a nugget and a Lumberjack so I could fake it til I made it. Baylor Bears study a lot while wearing nike shorts and drinking coffee. Since I was too old to fully conform I settled for hot cocoa and Adidas. No one questions a 28 year old black woman with a faux latte.

February 16, 2013 James and I (and our parents) spun around Waco flinging checks in every direction so that James could become a husband and I could become a wife. Ok, at this point I learned my lesson. Having successfully matriculating through adolescence and dizzying individuation I knew that preparation and research were key. So after 6 months of premarital counseling and great accountability from friends we pretty much gathered the gravity of 2 becoming 1. We did the "I do, You do", danced a jig and flew to Denver.

We returned a week later to begin work on one of life's most complicated equations...1+1=1.

I was comfortable with becoming one. And as of tomorrow we have been "becoming" for 6 months.

James is a good person to become one with. He is super loving and other mushy blog stuff you've read.

We have laughed at our collection of inside jokes and kitchen-danced a whole lot.

We have argued well and grown from dissent.

The only problem is I'm still one person. I made a mistake in my days as a Gold LumberBear. Growing each year, I still lost myself a little in the collegiate song and dance.

However, I haven't lost myself in this marriage. I don't think I am supposed to, either.  I just don't know what the heck to do with myself.

So this is one of the things that I have learned (I could have done six but that is uber predictable).

I am still me, one, and that is O.K.

James and I are two, different people who compliment each other like crazy and can't get enough of each other but God still calls us by name...Our own names...Not some odd Hollywood nickname mashup like JaNique or Momes (our names clearly do not mash well). God still calls me Monique. He is still transforming Monique to be a good woman not just a good wife. He still has work for his daughter to do on her own even though James and I may partner up from time to time. We don't have to always hike together, eat at a great restaurant together or shop together. That's not what gives the marital math problem weight and meaning...we aren't disconnected and doomed for divorce if we pray separately or pour ourselves into different ministries. These TWO become ONE because these ones are becoming like Christ. That is the strange math and He is the ONE we become even while we remain TWO and I'm so glad we have a lifetime to solve this equation.