seven years and counting

Our marriage is many things (in no particular order) ...

Loving.

Supportive.

Fun.

Humorous.

Exciting.

Comfortable.

Easygoing.

Collaborative.

Blessed.

But it's not itchy.

Definitely not itchy.

one dozen

Twelve years ago, a boy asked a girl to go out with him.


Her life hasn't been the same since.

tough as iron, sweet as candy

Tomorrow, I will be celebrating my six year wedding anniversary!

And, in total harmony with the traditional gifts for this milestone (as listed in the title of this post), I am so truly lucky to be married to the toughest, yet sweetest guy I have ever had the pleasure of knowing!

Instead of sounding like a broken record (as is probably the case whenever I talk about my husband and/or our marriage), I wanted to do something a tiny bit different with this post ... So I dug through my (our) extensive stash of relationship memorabilia and found the card I wrote on our wedding day.

Almost exactly six years ago.

Have a peek ...

This is only a small part of it:

My Dearest,

I am so honored that you chose to spend your life with me. I know that I can make you happy and I will do my very best to spend each day doing so. I feel in a way like no other when we are together ... I feel special, and loved, and so many other things.

Many people have asked me if I am nervous about this wedding. I am so proud that I can honestly tell them "no." I have never been more sure that marrying you is so perfect and right. I can't wait for our first kiss, our first introduction as "Mr. and Mrs.," our first dance, and our many other firsts! I know that as long as I have you as my husband I will be content and all will be right in my little world. You are the greatest gift God has given to me and I am thankful every day for my good fortune.

My world would not be the same without you.

I will end this now. I'm sure that my long-windedness is hard to take on a day like today. If you get anything from this, just know that I love you and I always will. Who knows? Maybe one day our kids will look at this and think how corny their Mom and Dad are ... But I wouldn't have it any other way!

I love you! Now I really can't wait to be your bride!

Love Always,

Emily

Many of the sentiments (if you ignore all the statements about "firsts") still ring incredibly true today, all these years later. In fact, they sound eerily like something that might show up in our sixth anniversary card.

Just as I was back then, I am still so sure about us as a couple.

While some things are still the same as they were six years ago ... And some things are so very different, we are still standing strong. Through it all our friendship remains our solid foundation and our love only continues to grow and deepen and (dare I say) mature with each day that passes. I am so content and blessed by, not only my husband, but by the little family that we have begun building together.

I couldn't imagine my life any different than it is today ... And, to think, each moment (good and bad) that we have spent along those six years has brought us to this exact place!

I can't wait to see what the next six will bring ...

the easter bunny's got nothing on me

When I was in high school, and completely enveloped in my then-new relationship with my now-husband, a friend said to me: "Don't put all your eggs in one basket."

She was speaking to the insane amounts of time my now-husband and I spent together.

Of our near isolation from the rest of our friends.

On week days, weekends, school breaks, you name it ... We always ended up together. Just us. Whether over the phone or in person, that's just the way it was. We got along so well, why wouldn't we take advantage of those moments? Why wouldn't we want to be together?

The whole "eggs in one basket" chiding didn't sit well with me ... She was just upset that we weren't spending more "couples time" with her and her then-boyfriend. It wasn't really advice meant to help me ... More so to try and make me feel guilty about how my priorities were different than hers.

But sometimes you have to be selfish.

Sometimes you have to go with your gut.

Sometimes there isn't a "Plan B" to fall back on.

I am 100% confident that, if I hadn't taken the time to really connect with my now-husband back in our early days, to begin to construct that solid foundation, things would be drastically different today. If I hadn't made the conscious choice to dedicate myself to our cause, to really and truly immerse myself in us, we wouldn't be married and we certainly wouldn't have our sweet little son.

In many ways, I'm not much different from my high school self.

I continue to keep my "eggs" in one basket.

If I (stubbornly?) set my mind and my heart on an outcome, then there really is no alternative ...

If I sign up as a Biology major my first year of college, I'm going to stick it out no matter how difficult the coursework becomes.

If I take a job at the most dreadful Catholic grade school in all of Cuyahoga county, I'm going to honor my contract, even if most days end in tears.

If I decide on a natural labor and delivery, I'm going to see it through until the end (complete with unexpected back labor).

If I want to stay home with my child and simultaneously hold a full-time job, I'm going to make it work.

I'm not a quitter, and for as long as I have been me, I have never been one to do things "half way."

I see now that the key is maintaining focus. Putting your faith in something so much bigger than yourself and pressing on. Keeping your intentions true. Filling that basket with all of your eggs and protecting it with everything you've got.

Sure, sometimes an egg jostles loose, falls overboard, cracks.

Feelings are hurt, expectations squashed, dreams put in to question ... But you pick up the pieces and keep going.

You carry that basket ... Vow to handle it more carefully.

Learn from your mistakes.

But you stay focused.

Always, always stay focused.

You keep your eyes forward and take one step at a time.

If I stop and really think about it, I honestly couldn't imagine my life any other way than how it is right now. I know that everything that's happened to me up to this point, from the biggest of events to the seemingly insignificant details, has put me at this exact moment ... All of my eggs, tucked safely away.

Sometimes "Plan A" is enough.

my valentine

As I've pointed out before (in regards to "preserving" my memories of Malcolm's babyhood), I go all the way when it comes to documenting and keeping little mementos of the past.

For example ...

I have every greeting card my husband ever sent to me during my four years away at college ... And there are quite a few of them because we celebrated every "month" as another anniversary! I know, I know. That's a LOT of cards ... A LOT of cards, with a LOT of writing in them ... We liked to make them personal (you've got to get your money's worth when you're sending that many cards).

I have all the handwritten tags that came with bouquets of flowers.

I have the movie ticket stub from our very first date.

I have more corny photographs than I should probably admit (and that I certainly WILL NOT post).

I also have this:


This is a scan of a page from my 2003-2004 school planner ... My senior year of college.

As you can see ... A week after my "Micro Exam," but about a week before my "53 Month Anniversary," on March 25th, 2004 (at precisely 9:56 as indicated by the pink heart) my then-boyfriend got down on his knee in my dorm room and asked me to be his wife.

I said "yes" and the rest (as they say) is history.

This Valentine's Day won't be much different from any of the others we have spent since we began dating ...

We won't go out to fight the crowds at a local fancy restaurant.

We won't get dressed up and take in a show.

Instead, we'll make a nice dinner together and spend the evening in with our amazing son ...

Then I'll get some chocolate lava cake, my husband's signature dessert.

And (of course) I'll put the inevitable Valentine greeting card into the box with all the other memorabilia ...

he's a keeper

I was getting ready for a funeral of all things when my husband said to me (out of the blue):

"You look more beautiful today than you ever have."

I can't really remember how I responded because I was taken aback.

He just sort of threw it out there ... Without any warning or indication that it was coming ... But it had me thinking for the rest of the day.

We've been "together" for about eleven years and have known each other slightly longer than that. He's seen me just about every single day for the past six years or so, a majority of those days being of the mundane and boring sort. He's watched me (red-faced and exhausted) deliver a squishy, squirmy baby into the world.

Part of my brain doesn't quite understand how, after all of that, I can still be beautiful to him at all.

He's seen me as a teenager ... One that, although a little late to bloom, was confident and cute. One that loved to laugh and was comfortable in who she was.

He's seen me as a college co-ed ... Determined and focused, yet ready to see where life would take me. More comfortable with my (finally!) filled out physique and more apt to "dress up" and look presentable, make-up and contacts and fitted shirts and all.

He's seen me as a newlywed wife ... So unbelievably happy after a gorgeous wedding day where I was (for once) the most beautiful girl in the world. Frolicking on the beach in a bikini during our honeymoon (something I hadn't owned since I was a little kid) and knowing I could actually pull it off.

He's seen me as a new mother ... First glowing with the radiance only a pregnant woman can possess, and then with the unmistakable shine of leaking breast milk and baby spit-up. With sleepy eyes and a tired mind, but a heart so full of love and giddiness I could have stayed awake forever.

And now ...

When body parts that were once bigger have shrunken and body parts that were once smaller (and probably a bit more fit and firm) have increased in size and gone a bit softer. When stretch marks have left their fading, yet noticeable, grooves like animal scratches across surfaces that used to be unblemished. When clothes are baggy and "comfortable" and contacts are hardly ever worn. When teeth (sometimes) don't get brushed until the middle of the afternoon and hair is usually air dried in some sort of crazy, unruly style ...

Now.

Now, he thinks I'm more beautiful than I have ever been.

Maybe I should get dressed up more often.

just call me superwoman (or crazy)

While this could be the title of a post about following through on popping out a baby the "natural way," I'm not going to go there ...

Maybe some other time.

Seven months ago, when I signed up for an internet class at Cleveland State University, I thought it would be my big chore of the fall. With daylight hours slipping into darkness, and cool, rainy nights to contend with, I figured I wouldn't mind spending hours each night holed up in the computer room, reading from the glowing screen and responding to the various requirements of the class.

Seven months ago, when I applied (and was hired) at a local tutoring facility, I thought that it would be something "to keep me busy," a mere escape from the house. A moment to myself where I could continue to hone my teaching skills, make a little spending money, and still maintain my role as stay-at-home-mom during the day.

Seven months ago, when I emailed that application to the virtual school, I thought I was only appeasing my husband. He was becoming more and more concerned about us "hitting a wall" as the money I had built up from my time at work slowly dwindled away. Never in my wildest dreams did I think that anything would come of that tiny little email, two page resume attached. I certainly didn't anticipate the whirlwind that would follow about six months later.

Today, I am somehow managing to keep my head above water. I am completing my class assignments on time, working my part-time job in the evenings, and falling into a rhythm with my full-time job(s) during the day ... But the really funny thing about it, is that all these commitments, all the busyness and stress-fueled activities, only serve to remind me of how important the quiet moments can be.

And how much I truly love them.

Of course, I couldn't do any of it without the support of my husband. Without him to watch the boy for a couple hours in the evening, or to feed him dinner, or give him a bath, my whole well-timed, perfectly orchestrated balancing act would cease to exist.

My superhero facade would crumble.

I guess that makes him Robin to my Batman ...

I always did have a little crush on the Boy Wonder.

half of a decade

My husband and I have been married for five years (today!) and things are still absolutely wonderful.


I'm not surprised, really. I had a feeling that things would work out this way after our first, yet unofficial, date.

I was sitting at home, bored one summer evening and he called me.

"Do you want to go out and do something?" He eventually asked. "Grab something to eat? Catch a movie?"

At this point, we were merely friends (as I had the tendency to constantly remind him), and I knew he had other intentions. I didn't want to encourage him by going out, one-on-one, but I was really hungry and there was nothing good to eat in the house ...

"I guess we could," I said, as nonchalantly as humanly possible.

"Really?" There was a pause, like he hadn't expected me to take him up on the offer. "Okay ... I'll pick you up in twenty minutes."

Twenty minutes was about the time it took for him to drive from his house to mine. I certainly didn't need any time to get ready or primp or anything ... We were going out as friends. Strictly friends. No big deal. No need to actually look nice or anything.

When he showed up at my house, I was on the front porch waiting for him. I walked over to his parents' car (he had his license, but no car of his own) and got in. "Where to?" I asked.

He had it all planned out. He was taking me to a casual little restaurant that his parents used to take him to. It was movie themed (right up his alley) and everything had a catchy, if not corny, name. It wasn't much of a "hot spot," that evening, so we were seated in a cushy little booth right away. There was a piano player providing music and everything ... The mood was light. As always, we were having a good time.

We ordered our food: a "Humphrey Bogart" for him and some chicken fingers for me.

Things were going well (the conversation, the company, the food ) until the piano started a rousing rendition of The Entertainer. If you know this piece of music, you know that it starts slowly and builds and builds, getting faster and faster and faster until it just cuts off and stops altogether.

I found it to be an interesting choice of dinner music and made the comment: "This makes me want to start shoving food in my mouth," as I quickly brought the chicken fingers up to my face, one after the other, pretending to scarf them down.

Finding this particularly amusing, he agreed and we laughed and laughed as the song continued to play. Not more than five minutes after it had ended, he excused himself and disappeared into the men's room ... He was feeling sick.

Apparently, the laughter and the "Humphrey Bogart" didn't mix.

As I waited for him in the bathroom, our server brought the bill and I started going through my purse to find my part of the dinner.

A good fifteen minutes or so later, and he returned, looking pale and miserable. He apologized, and dug into his wallet, too, so that we could get out of there. Well, wouldn't you know, he was short on cash! In his excitement to get out of the house for our "date," probably with minimal questions, he didn't grab money.

He looked over at me sheepishly. "I'm short by a couple dollars," he mumbled.

"No problem, I've got it," I replied, going into my purse again.

I swear, his face went a little more pale ...

To this day, we look back on that date and chuckle about the "bad Bogart" he must have ordered, the quickening pace of the music, and the fact that he owed me money when all was said and done. I'm pretty sure that's not quite the event he had in mind when he called me that summer evening.

"Some date," I'd say, bringing it all back. "It just about sums us up, doesn't it?"

He'd just smile that quirky smile of his and sigh.

So, here we are, over ten years from that first, unofficial date, five years into our life together as "husband and wife," and parents of a perfect little boy ... And we're still together.

Maybe it's time find a babysitter, head back to that restaurant (for old time's sake), and give the "Humphrey Bogart" another try.