My husband is loud. Like, so loud. His loudness knows no boundaries or borders but sometimes he does have a different volume setting. Louder. Now this volume setting usually comes to life while enjoying one of his biggest passions which just so happens to be basketball. We live in Utah so we love our Utah Jazz and have been so fortunate to attend quite a few games this season. The past few years have probably been some of the harder times we’ve experienced so on the nights we have Jazz tickets we schedule a babysitter and I actually do my hair and makeup. We get ourselves some food and get to eat it while its still hot because we aren’t busy feeding our kids and we head to the arena. These nights have turned into my favorite nights. There is however part of the night that always puts me just a tad on the edge of my chair and it sounds like this, “C’MON REF! WHAT KIND OF CALL IS THAT? FOUL! FOUL! SOMEONE BETTER CALL THE COPS BECAUSE THAT DUDE JUST GOT ROBBED!” So while my husband stands screaming, you can generally find me pulling at his sleeve saying “Babe, sit down. Don’t scream.” And when that doesn’t work I just place my chin on my hands and wait until he’s done.
I’ve always been very aware of what others think of me, and in some situations I don’t care but in a lot I do. Is that a good quality? No. Do I wish I didn’t? Absolutely. But the reality is that anytime someone is whispering even if they accidentally glance in my direction there is a good chance I’m going to feel like it’s about me. Queue me checking my teeth for food and smelling my own armpits. So I think it’s fair for everyone to safely assume that when I KNOW those glares are about me, my discomfort level goes through the roof. That being said, it’s no surprise that the other nights game pushed me over the edge.
We got to the game both in great spirits, so excited for our night away and time together. We found our seats and immediately I started feeling sick. This baby guys, she’s getting the best of me regularly, especially in large crowds where there are so many things to smell. Anyways, the game started and my husband was immediately in the zone. I attempted to pull on his sleeve a few times, I tried telling him to shush, I even told him he was being way to loud and needed to be quiet. When nothing worked I sat back in my seat and tried not to throw up. All of the sudden out of the corner of my eye I saw a woman lean over and whisper to her husband while looking at me following one of my husbands cheers. My stomach turned, I knew she was talking about us. “Please sit down babe” I said. He just smiled and said “babe, I’m enjoying my night! It’s okay!” He was right. I was probably making assumptions anyways. I sat back in my chair again. Another yell “ATTA BOY! WAY TO GET TO THE LINE!” Again another glare and a whisper to her husband, but this time she rubbed his back and laughed as if trying to calm him down while he simultaneously put his finger in his ear closest to us. This was for sure about us and the discomfort set in again. They took a selfie of them at the game, she showed her husband the Instagram post, they both laughed, her husband said “seriously” and rolled his eyes and then she looked back at me laughing.
And so this pattern continued for the duration of the game. Loud yell, followed by glares, laughing while rubbing her husbands back with frequent exclamations of “oh my gosh” or “woooooow!” I continued to tap him on the leg, pull on his arm, ask him to sit down and be a little more quiet while my anxiety built higher and higher. Finally my husband asked me what was wrong. I didn’t hesitate, “that woman down there is so rude! She’s constantly making comments about you and your loudness and constant commentating . She keeps glaring back at us and it’s making me mad and very uncomfortable! He sat down, grabbed my hand, kissed me and said “if that’s how they want to enjoy the game then let them, you enjoy it how you want to. Don’t let them decide how your night goes. Just enjoy it.” Then he said “I don’t even know why I sit down” and jumped back up without missing a beat. “YEAH! MAN I LOVE ME SOME GEORGE HILL.”
While I’m a little embarrassed to admit it, I was heated but I’m going to blame it on my extra dose of hormones. I was so overwhelmed over something so small that my heart was beating out of my chest. I was frustrated with my husband for being so stinking loud and at that woman who was being so rude! I was already not feeling well and in my usual position on the edge of my seat ready to control his outbursts and she was just making it worse. I mean couldn’t she just have been like everyone else and just watched the game in her own fashion my husbands very obvious passion aside without being rude to other people?
I excused myself to go to the restroom, not because I actually had to go but because I needed a breather. I sat in the stall frustrated and all of the sudden reality settled in and I felt awful. My husband was loud and it was obnoxious sometimes but what others didn’t know is that those games are our break from a reality that isn’t so hot most of the time. He wasn’t doing anything wrong. He wasn’t sitting in an opera or a symphony concert hall. He was at a sporting event that he just so happened to love and was acting extremely appropriate for the setting he was in. He wasn’t vulgar or out of line, he was loud and that wasn’t hurting anyone. Then reality set in further, how long had I been trying to silence my husband or diminish his personality because I felt it was over the top when in all actuality it just wasn’t what I would say or do. I was horrified with myself. I sat trying to think if there was anything about me that my husband was constantly trying to change or telling me he didn’t like, I couldn’t think of a single thing. I sat there in a stall at a Utah Jazz game realizing that while my husband had excepted me 100% for who I was a long time ago, I needed to improve as a wife.
I suppose I should take a second and say that there are things in a relationship that should not be accepted or deemed appropriate. Examples may include any type of abuse, a lack of support or help in your home and family etc. This article however isn’t about those things. I once heard a quote that said “You don’t have to love his passions, but you have to love that he loves his passions.” I can think of many things in my relationship that this quote applies to, his choice of music sometimes, his love for YouTube videos, his raw sense of humor, but those are part of who he is and I love who he is. My husband accepted my love of Desperate Housewives and Oreo obsession the day he met me. He accepted my absolute distaste for vegetables and my ugly cry and lack of using actual words when I’m mad. He loves me despite my inability to wash the clothes and fold them in the same day and my habit of being overly patient with my children even when they deserve some harshness in their lives. The point is that there are so many things that I do that could leave him sitting on the edge of his seat ready to control me but instead he loves me, not in spite of those things but because of those things.
Since I’m a sucker for happy endings let’s get back to the Jazz game. So there I am, sitting on a toilet in a stall completely dressed for an excessive amount of time and I decide that I love my husband. Not that I’ve ever not loved him because let’s be honest from the day I set eyes on him I had to have him. I just decided that I love all of the stupid, annoying, obnoxious, non-hurtful things that make him who he is. I love that his laundry doesn’t make it in the hamper because he works so hard all day to take care of us that he’s to tired to even think about where his clothes end up and tosses them on he floor before crawling into bed. I love that at 7 AM in the morning when I’m wishing that I was still in bed that he’s driving me nuts with all of his energy because he’s happy to have another day. So I leave the bathroom and head out to the game, never mind that it’s the fourth quarter and I’ve wasted 3 others being mad at some woman who doesn’t matter, but I am on my feet. “LETS GO BOYS!” She glares. I smile. “LETS GET THE WIN! NICE BOARD RUDY!” This time it’s me yelling. We scream our way through a close game together that night, me a little out of my element but him completely in his.
Ultimately it’s just one of those things that made me realize that my husband wasn’t waiting for the fourth quarter of our lives to enjoy me and our marriage and our life. He’s enjoys it now annoying parts of me and all. No more waiting until the fourth quarter for me. No matter how loud he is.
Loved this post!
I loved this. My husband is so much louder than me, particularly his laugh during movies. I always get a little worried that someone’s going to get angry at us at the movie theaters, but after seeing so many movies, I finally realized that I love his passion for good humor and if other people have a problem with it, then they’re just not living their life right.
I’m in tears….i loved this! Tears of joy for your happiness and I don’t even know you…just stumbled across your blog.
I’ve read a couple of posts. starting with the one regarding being married to black man. I am glad that you can appreciate how difficult it can be to be married to an African American man in america. The conversations you are having with your sons and ones that I have quite frequently with my nephew. what I did want to tell you, is that it seems you care alot about what people say or think of you. Maybe because I am a bit older, or perhaps because I am a African American female I have learned (and I am still learning) not to care so much what people think. Don’t waste, your time or your energy (or what precious time with your husband) worrying about what others think. Teach your sons (which I am sure you are) to be respectful, kind, loving, hardworking young men, focus on building a long lasting marriage with your husband (I am sure you are) Your critics are unhappy with themselves and wants to use the opportunity to manipulate you in feeling the same way. May God bless you both!
I have read a couple of posts. starting with the one regarding being married to African American man. I am glad that you can appreciate how difficult it can be to be married to an African American man in america. The conversations you are having with your sons, are ones that I have quite frequently with my nephew. what I did want to tell you, is that it seems you care a lot about what people say or think of you. Maybe because I am a bit older, or perhaps because I am a African American female I have learned (and I am still learning) not to care so much what people think. Don’t waste, your time or your energy (or what precious time with your husband) worrying about what others think. Teach your sons (which I am sure you are) to be respectful, kind, loving, hardworking young men, focus on building a long lasting marriage with your husband (I am sure you are) Your critics are unhappy with themselves and wants to use the opportunity to manipulate you in feeling the same way. May God bless you both!
I read a different article that you wrote and im sorry even through your enlightenment i still found your ideals quite naive and privileged….the fact that your blog is 3boys….is one of those “boys” that you refer to your black husband??? Lady to refer to a black MAN as a boy in itself is extremely racist….obviously you jave no respect for your man or you are jist like every other white person who marries outside of your race without doing your research….to reference a grown man as a boy is degrading….slaveowners refered to black me as boys….that is sickening to me….your article about now rasing your children to be law abiding contribiting citizens of the world…..as if black mothers dont do the same….again extremely offensive and “mighty white” of you…..your blog is for white women because everything you write screams of racism
I don’t think she means to be disrespectful or degrading towards her husband. And I bet if referring to him in such manner offended him, she wouldn’t do so.
You are thinking what I thought. Omg..it was pure innocents…heart felt words coming from a wife and mother…a person who did not know racism existed…but now knows it’s real…she has taking herself out of the safe equation unknowingly and she is now a target as a wife and mother.
Treina – many women and men, regardless of skin color, lovingly refer to the men in their life as “my boys”. Black fathers and mothers say this about their grown sons, “My boys” is said with pride. It’s a personal endearment to group the males together, and I’ve heard it said lovingly. I’ve heard it used as an insult too, but that’s not the case here. This culture we live in doesn’t always regard 1700-1800’s slavery talk any longer – although, again I stress that exceptions are made by vile people, still. Those are the haters. Chelsie’s blog was about her fears, and how she’s learning to parent bi-racial children, in a still, sometimes judgemental society. I believe you’ve taken her words in a direction that just wasn’t the case at all. Interracial relationships carry their own unique societal problems, and in the racist charged atmosphere we’re in now, I truly think asking the questions before commenting may be the key to finding the real truth. Be blessed.
Hello everyone. Rarely do I make comments or respond to others comments because I love and respect the opinion of others and it’s hard to keep up with what is happening without glueing myself to my phone. I have however noticed an issue that has been trending in the past few days that I will comment on. I want it to be clear that my husband is a man. He is the father of my children. The protector of my family and the head of our household. I love him and have more respect for him then I have words for. We have often joked, him included that I am the mother of three rambunctious boys who love to play, make messes, have fun and get into trouble together. They are my boys just as much as I’m their girl and that doesn’t take away from me being a woman, their mother and his wife.
After I have read and viewed so many people’s concern over this topic I asked my husband sincerely if I had hurt his feelings or made him feel belittled. He simply laughed and said “no honey, not at all.” The title of my blog for those of you that find yourselves completely immersed in its offensiveness will soon be changing as it will no longer be applicable or accurately represent our family. But please know that I did not mean any harm or to offend anyone that may have seen this differently then it was meant.
Thank you all for your expressions of concern.
I read this and it feels like I am reading about my own family. Exactly like my family.
I enjoyed reading this post, and was brought here by a link that talked about your experience with racism. It’s rare to read a piece about what it’s like to see the world through entirely different eyes – the piece brought back my memories of being pulled over by the police in Ogunquit, ME – one of my headlights was flickering, and the police officer who flagged me down was rude, angry and loud, and insinuated that the car might be stolen. I’m a brown man with an unusual name, and experiences like that are pretty common. And yet that is nothing like being black. Thank you for writing, and for doing so with such patience, such optimism and gentility. Best of luck to you, your husband, and of course, your lovely kids.
I loved this piece.
It speaks of how pre-occupied we get in how other people are “feeling” and not immersed in just living our own lives. I was hoping that was where the article/blog was leading to and glad that it was resolved in this way. You spent 3 quarters watching someone watch you and your husband and gave your precious time of your night out to her. That lady spent all of her quarters watching you and your husband instead of enjoying her experience and night out with her own husband. Isn’t that the real tragedy? What someone thinks of you is really none of your business. So in life we must all just carry on as if everything is “business as usual” and try not to offend or cause harm ot anyone. There is enough in this world for all of us and I daresay at a sports game that should be a given. Love your husband and cherish him, focus on you and your family and don’t lose precious time worrying, wondering or assuming what others are thinking about you. Celebrate your good fortune of having an amazing family that you are blessed to have! Afterall that is all that really matters. You are always to visit the Cayman Islands, we hardly will notice it here a nd if we do, we won’t say anything anyway.
Love to you and your boys Chelsea!
Hello Chelsea , I have been so moved by your loving insight and deep honesty into the reality of the “mixed” marriages . I am from a mixed marriage and have married into another “mix” and have had 2 wonderful children and journeyed enough with them to be in a complete mix and the story goes on ….! The greatest support for me came from a boundless Love for Life , a deep joy ….regardless…. There are many beautiful completely mixed people ,situations , languages ,and reading of our Life …. I found this so exciting that I would pick in any given circumstance the most beautiful story ,or behavior,or emotion or…..etc,etc ..
That was my inner path to cope with the chaos of the mixed up minds !!! Still going strong and sending you happy vibes for beyond there is always the reality that we are from one same HeartBeat ….. but who can grasp that , huh ? ❤
There is ABSOLUTELY NO NEED for an apology. Those who are offended are totally and completely off-kilter. Goodness! They are so focused on racism (I am not saying they are racist) that they consciously and subconsciously look for it in just about every statement. They probably also fall in the category of thinking that every ‘white’ person is racist. How sad.
Please, please do not apologize. Your courage in sharing your story is commendable and the encouragement you have afforded others by telling your story cannot be under-valued.
We can only hope that people will be bold enough to shed their discriminatory blinders (whatever they may be) and be able to see the beauty of the human being.
I don’t believe it’s too much to ask, is it?
Mudsharks never cease to amaze me. A blonde with a monkey husband and a subhuman half monkey baby. The police needs more target practice anyway. A good way to lower your genes. I just feel sorry for the white son. I would be embarrassed if this thing was my mother
You two are the cutest! I love your posts and the great perspective you have on life. Thanks for sharing:)
Swear down this is the best,sweetest blog I’ve ever read in my life.. Trust me I’m glued to it already. What an amazing/cute family. Your family is a combination of Texas Barbecue Ribs, tacos, sausage, chocolates. buttermilk biscuits and apple pie. LoL ! Stay blessed and please don’t stop blogging!
Loved the read. I’ll have to pass this along to my wife, for she goes to the Jazz games for the Dippin Dots, while I badger the refs and players for 48 minutes of basketball. Hopefully Hayward sticks around and we can continue our playoff push a little farther next year! #takenote
This is so adorable, your husband is a keeper. Much love to you and your family, can’t wait to read more x
I too have a loud, obnoxious, amazing, husband who LOVES basketball and the Jazz. I love your perspective and how this is written. You are nicer than I would have been. I would have turned to that woman and let her have it. Let’s double date to a Jazz game sometime and we can both smile next to our loud husbands. 🙂