Men and women speak different languages. Most of the time I try to speak clearly in hopes that my husband, Ace, will understand. Most of the time I end up frustrated and hurt that he hasn’t “heard” me – or really understood my words. It’s like I’m the Charlie Brown teacher, “Waaa wa wa wa waa”.

The most recent battle of words has been over expanding our family. Baby number two is just a twinkle in our eye as we jump into bed, giving the baby making journey another go. But that’s the fun part. We are focused on making sweet, sweet love so that we never conceive a child through a “we have to have sex because I’m ovulating” scenario and more of a “we get to have a lot of sex right now especially because I’m ovulating” scenario. Ace seems to be on the same page with the baby making (yeah! More sex!), it’s all the other nesting nonsense that is causing the communication breakdown followed by tears.

I don’t need to get into all the back and forth drama. He’s spatting defenses, I’m spatting long-winded explanations and justifications. I’m mostly talking about the elaborate reconstruction of our house (in a dream world) and he’s mostly telling me that I’m crazy and living in a dream world, when I realize… I’m never going to get him to walk this journey side by side the whole time. In a sense, he’s looking at the path and carefully stepping from stone to stone, while I’m looking at the birds and the trees, maybe sometimes tripping up on the path, but enjoying it just the same (or even more). My views and my language are always going to be foreign to him. I can either let myself be worked up by his frustration or I can figure out a way to power my own vojo and be ok with whatever comes back at me in response.

After we reached the crescendo of our mismatch of words, I stepped away to get some air and got distracted by the garden hose, watering a particularly scorched section of lawn. GaGa, our yellow lab, came over to chase the splash that was created where the water hit the grass. As I moved the hose around, she kept chasing the splash. Watching her knocked me out of my funk. Laughter spilled out as I realized that all I need to worry about is being present. Move on. That’s one thing Ace can do way better than me. Move on. The discussion is over. It didn’t really mean anything, not really.

Be the power in my own vojo. That’s what I need to do. Be ok with my ideas and don’t rely on others for self-worth. What matters is the power I hold in myself and the love I am able to give. Being present and not dwelling on what Ace or anyone else thinks creates the power in my vojo.