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Twenty-Nine Years

Twenty-Nine Years

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Happy 29th Anniversary to my best friend and amazing husband, Clint. (Damn. We’re getting up there in age, babe!) I can’t imagine anyone I’d want to go on this journey with other than you.

Our post ceremony kiss

I remember when our biggest issues were who was making the bed, or stop squeezing the toothpaste from the middle (sorry!), and the right and wrong way to fold the towels (not even bringing up fitted sheets), and of course forgetting an “important” day.

When life threw some pretty hard curve balls at us like losing our baby boy and then losing parents, we had to figure out how to adjust to how we worked together as a couple in a new, harsher world. We struggled but never lost sight of the “we” part of the equation. We grew closer in spite of the pain life caused us and even the pain we caused each other. We’ve always found our way back to one another.

No matter what, we can count on each other. We’ve seen more loss, more death, more pain, more suffering, and more tragedy in our lives together than either of us could ever have ever imagined. Things that could tear a marriage apart. But when one of us was nearing a breaking point, the other always stood strong for both of us until the undertow’s pull let up and we both stood up strong again.

We’ve raised three amazing and unique kids who have grown up to be amazing and unique adults. (And, yes. Yes, bless the weird and wonderful in them!) From those first few months of crying with that colicky little pain in the ass (we survived!) to truancy court (totally their fault!) to going toe to toe with administration over a dance (closed minded asses!), we survived with a lot more humor and good memories than outsiders could ever understand. And now? We’re sending the baby off to college. Where did the time go? (I know… My face and your beard.)

But here’s where it gets tricky. Twenty-nine years ago I made a promise to you. I promised when the kids were grown, it would be a time of celebration for us. A time to look back on all that we have been through and the family we created together and raised to be the strong, confident adults they’ve become and celebrate a job well done as we look towards our next chapter together. I promised, though there’d be tears, there would never be regret. Only excitement for what is to come. Wherever that may take us and whatever way we’d get there.

Here is to our next 29 years and the 29 after that! May we never stop laughing, never stop dancing, and never, ever stop reaching for each other’s hand.

How exactly does this apply to me?

How exactly does this apply to me?

imageSee how nice I was in the last entry?  How sweet and loving I was in regards to my husband.  Well, it is not our anniversary anymore.  And whereas I do still love him, he is still a man and says things that –let’s be honest here– get him into trouble.  I do understand it is not intentional, but nevertheless, he would be found guilty in a room full of my peers. (Wives.)

Occasionally (okay often) I call him near the end of his work day to see when he will be heading home.  I am not so much checking up in him as I am trying to decide if I have enough sanity left in me until he makes it home.  That, and sometimes he has things to do after work.  Or nights he has to work late. Or sometimes, yes, I just like to bug the hell out of him.  So sue me!  But this particular time last week I called just to see if he had any idea when he might be home so I could plan dinner.  (I said PLAN dinner not COOK dinner.)

Me:  So, any idea when you might be heading this way.  (Called after his normal time that he leaves, I might add.)

Him:  Why?

Me:  Umm, well, so I can plan the evening and stuff.

Him:  *silence*

Me:  You know….figure out dinner plans, see if you would even be home for dinner.  Those kinds of things.

Him:  (And people, take note, this is where he messed up.) Well, I just don’t see how that pertains to you or what you are doing.  How does when I leave effect what you are going to do?

Me:  How it “pertains to me”?!  No you didn’t.

Him:  (Well, really just insert whatever backpedaling and ‘oh-shit’ ways of a man trying to get out of something he innocently said that pissed off his wife unexpectedly.)

Since that day last week, there have been many times I have taken advantage of that phrase.

What’s for dinner? 

I ate.  How does your hunger pertain to me (or apply to me–as they are interchangeable)?

I am out of clean socks.

I wear sandals, so how exactly does that pertain to me?

This house is getting out of control with clutter.

Really?  I can pretty much look past that, so how exactly does this pertain to me?

See?  It works in any situation.  Oh, sure, I will let it drop. (But will reserve the right to revive it at will and my whims.)

Try it.  I really is quite fun!  And before you get mad at me for beating a dead horse (or an error in comment judgement by my husband) remember that we have been together 19 years.  The statute of limitations of overlooking comments like that passed like 9 years ago.  And don’t think he doesn’t do it back to me.  I am just the one who blogs it. 

So before you say, “How rude!” might I say to to you…

…How exactly does that pertain to me?

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Sweet 16! (How sweet it has been!)

Sweet 16! (How sweet it has been!)

image Today I celebrate my 16th wedding anniversary with my very best friend in the world. That’s right.  SIXTEEN years.  We have actually been together for 19 years.  Which is rather amazing considering that I am only 26.  (Anyone buying that?)

What an amazing ride it has been.  We have seen each other through more things in the past 16 years than I could have ever imagined.  We’ve lost a child and brought 3 amazing and healthy children into this world.  We have seen births and deaths, marriages and divorces, new jobs and job losses.  We’ve seen each other at our best and our worst.  Because we met when we were just teenagers, we have learned about real love.  Adult love.  Love that sticks around when you don’t particularly like each other.  Love that wakes up with you day after day seeing the bed head and bad breath and still smiles at you.  Love that doesn’t see those new lines in your face or the grey sneaking into your hair.  Love that holds on tightly to you when your life is turned upside down and you try to blindly find your way to the new you.  We have learned to love on a level so deep it is beyond description.  (Though here I sit trying to do so.)

When we got married I was a skinny, big haired blonde in college with no idea who I wanted to be when I grew up.  Sixteen years later, I am a not-so-skinny-thankyouverymuch, blunt cut redhead who is still trying to figure out who I want to be when I grow up.  Through it all, Clint stood beside me.  Never waivering.  And trust me…when I go all MENTAL over a bad haircut, or get banned from Fry’s for stripping down and climbing into the washing machine, or have fights with U-Scan machines and even when I try to convince him that our laptops share the same deep love for each other that we do, there is plenty of ammunition to run for the hills and have no one think twice about his choice.  But he stays and loves me unconditionally. 

In short, we laugh together.  A lot.  So many of our late night talks end up with both of us laughing that real, belly laugh that makes you feel happy from head to toe.  We find humor in even the hardest of times.  He is the man I always knew he would be when we met as teenagers.  He is the father I always dreamed of for my children.  He is the part of my life that keeps me grounded, yet lets me reach for my dreams with his full support.

I really do love this man.

Sixteen years.  I can hardly wait to see what the next 16 years bring. 

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Shadow of Doooooooom

Shadow of Doooooooom

For as long as I can remember, I have suffered from insomnia.  (Unlike the insanity in which not only do I not suffer from it, but I enjoy every moment of.) So, for me to say I’m going to bed that usually means I will hit the pillow about 45 minutes or so from then.  Even then, I will most likely still be awake for at least an hour.  Most nights I will read or write.  Generally something non-disturbing to my slumber-loving husband.  When he says he is going to bed, he is usually catching some serious Zs within moments.  All things being equal.  Unless of course you introduce the A-B theory.

The A-B theory pretty much involves A (me) annoying the every loving crap out of B (him).

Case in point:  An hour after announcing I was going to bed, I actually made it to bed.  He had just crawled under the covers and closed his eyes ready to sleep.  (Silly, silly man!) In my defense, I had every initial intention of just reading.  With my book light.  But then the giggles hit.

“Clint.  Hey, Clint look!”

I begin to do that thing where you hold a flashlight up to the ceiling and then take your hand and slowly cover it as if the Shadow of Doom is descending upon your room.  Sound effects extra.

“Yeah, cool.”

“Hey!  You didn’t even look!  LOOK!”

“I’m tired.  I don’t want to”, but he still pops one eye half open. 

Eagerly, I begin again with the Shadow of Doom (complete with the spooky ghost-like sounds effects.)

Both eyes pop open as he raises up on an elbow and stares at me.

And stares.

“What?!  Come on now, Clint.  No one can resist the thrill of The Shadow of Dooooooooom!”

*stare*

“Tomorrow, I am totally going to show you how when I shine a flashlight on my hand you can see the blood vessels and bones of my hand.”

“Shut up.”

“Pfffft! You used to be fun.”

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Dude! That’s gotta hurt!

Dude! That’s gotta hurt!

Sometimes my entries write themselves.

The other morning I was stumbling into the kitchen for my morning speed fix cup of coffee.  (Sidenote: This just so happened to be the day after Clint made an appointment for his Big V -or Freedom Day as I like to call it.) After taking a huge life-giving gulp of my nectar of the gods coffee, I was able to pry my eyes open.  When I I did, I glanced over to something that caught my eye on my counter.  Yes, this absolutely made me spew my coffee all over myself and my counter.  What the hell?

I did indeed see what I thought I saw.  Yes, my friends, it is a plastic man straddling a knife. 

No one will fess up to putting it there.  No. One.  And I swear by the gods of the internet, it was not me.  If I am lying, may Harley (the dog otherwise known as Sir Poops A-Lot) defacate my carpet everyday for a week. 

Clint didn’t see the humor that I did.  For you men who think I am a horrible bitch for laughing at this, you’re right.  I am.  But really…it is funny in light of the situation.

So if you are the one who set Mr No Nuts on the knife, thanks for the giggle, but honestly, I am going to have to ask for my key back.  It freaks me out that you got into my house and did that.

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Could I BE any happier about this?

Could I BE any happier about this?

I am very happy today.  I found out something that is going to change my life dramatically. (As well as someone else’s.) However, I did not ask that certain someone if I can talk about it, so to protect his identity, I won’t use real names. Let’s call him Dick Richard. 

You see, some of you know “Richard” as the father of my children and my husband of almost 15 years.  (No names, please.  Let’s respect his privacy.) I got a call from him today saying that…

….wait for it….

He is scheduled for his vasectomy next week!

[We interrupt this regularly scheduled blog to bring you the happiest of happy dances, the giddiest of giggles and the loudest of hallelujah shouts ever experienced at this blog.  Do not adjust your computers.  The issue lies with the author.  Feel free to dance along.  We now return you to the regularly scheduled entry.]

Was it wrong that I was in Kohl’s and shouted out “Wooo hooooo!!” quite ecstatically?  (Don’t worry sweetie, I used my gift card.) Is it wrong that I can’t stop telling EVERYONE I know that at last the snipage will occur? (By the way, the mailman said he really didn’t care.) And really, is it wrong that I am making jokes about it to him?  Like:  ‘Call the vet and maybe we can get a 2-for-1 deal!’ or ‘Do you want me to get frozen lima beans, frozen corn or shall we just make sufferin’ succotash?’

Yeah, okay, maybe the jokes are too far, but damn I am one happy woman!

So mark your calendars.  April 7th.  Family Local National Holiday, folks.

*skipping off doing the Snoopy Happy Dance*

Oh, and of course, all snipage jokes are absolutely accepted.  I must share the joy! 

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