Hi, I'm Dara!

Welcome to Living My Someday! 

Here on LMS, I share my Whole30 tips, hiking and travel adventures with my family, motivation + life  lessons, and a few blogging biz tips.

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Grown Men Aren't Children

M'kay, before I launch into what this post is really about, can I just derail into the subject of potty training...and how much I just hate it. I can't even say it any other way. I despise the entire process from start until it's anything-less-than-completely-finished.

Today, for example, was the day that I:

  • I stepped on poop, 
  • with my bare feet, 
  • while I was inches from the toilet,
  • scrambling to remove the dreaded Pull-up in a timely fashion.

So close, yet so very far away.

Anyway, moving along...I saw this the little treasure pop up on my Pinterest feed the other day.

Image via


Now, usually, I love 


. I have numerous examples of their wit pinned to my Pinterest boards, and I've shared many on Facebook and Twitter. 

This one, however, just made me angry, and it took me a minute or two to figure out why. While I was pondering, a somewhat distant memory came floating to the surface. Right around the time my husband and I got married, I found myself standing in circle surrounded by "seasoned" wives. Knowing me, I probably asked them to share some knowledge about how to make a marriage last, find joy in the everyday, etc. While I do remember sage advice being bestowed ("Focus on contentment, not happiness".), one notion rubbed me the wrong way. On the subject of a husband's ugly, ratty, or otherwise distasteful pieces of clothing, it was suggested that I hide, donate, or destroy the detestable item(s) without my man's knowledge or consent. Startlingly, this statement was met with head nods of agreement and a chorus of "mm-hmms". 

Wait. What?


That's no kid, that's a


, baby!

(this won't make sense unless you read it in Austin Powers' voice)

As I recalled this memory, I figured out what bothered me about that e-card:

the blatant lack of respect

. There's no need to worship the man, but a modicum of dignity seems like very little to ask. Nobody's perfect, and Lord knows my husband drives me crazy often and with great aplomb, but there is no way on earth I'd take something he loves and get rid of it simply because I don't like it. Likewise, I could never reduce a grown man to the level of child, even in jest. If there's an element of truth to every joke--and I believe there is--this sentiment is disturbing. 

Why are we infantilizing our significant others in this way? Ladies, I need to know what this is 'cause I just don't understand it. Are we making men out to be inept as a reaction against the patriarchy we live in? Or is this a quest for perfection, an attempt to be everything to everyone and "have it all"? I don't know about you, but I find this whole marriage/parenting/life thing to be pretty damn overwhelming and I


my man to help shoulder the burden; otherwise, this ship is going down! I could care less that he does things differently than I do and I certainly don't need to be hovering over him, making sure he's doing everything to my satisfaction. I'd much rather give him a hug, a kiss, and a "thank you" for helping us get through this life, together.

Image source

I'd love to hear your thoughts on this topic! If you feel lead, share your opinions in the comments.


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Thanks For The Memories, Austin!

Thanks For The Memories, Austin!

This Just In: The Internet Is Weirdly Awesome.