Happy 27%!
On July 6, Mark and I celebrated nine years of marriage together. That means I've spent 27% of my life married. If you're of the *er, wiser set, you're probably giving the computer screen one of your knowing smiles right now. Nine years? Really? That's nothing! And I know you're right. Still.
We were in Michigan at the time, which meant a night of free babysitting and a chance to relive some of our favorite dates. We decided, of course, to hit the lake. This time, instead of picking up take-out at Boston Market and heading to the beach, we got dressed up and sat on the patio of an overpriced restaurant for a meal where we didn't have to jump up for dropped forks and spilled drinks or listen to fussy children turn up their noses at their plates, who (I swear!) liked that meal last time I made it! It was great. Then we beat it to the beach for the sunset, but because the service at the restaurant was bad, we missed it. Oh well. We had fun setting up my new grown up camera on a post in the sand for some anniversary shots. I don't think we've laughed that hard together since...well, since...when again? We ended the night with ice cream cones at Captain Sundae. Of course. It was fun.
Which begs the question, is life with kids really that hard on a marriage? Yes, yes it is. It is on ours anyway. And I'd be skeptical of anyone who claimed that their marriage is as fresh and new post-children as it was pre-children. (I believe I said something to my sister today along the lines of, "Don't ever have kids!" I may have actually shouted it over the phone line. I didn't mean it, of course. I was just up to my eyeballs in whining and crying and poop and spilled yogurt tubes on a 110 degree day in July.)
This is why celebrating anniversaries, even a nondescript one like little old nine, is so important. Mark and I had as much fun planning which dates we would revisit as we did actually going on one. And the best part was that after the walk down memory lane and the night free of children, we came home to three sleeping cherubs snugged in their beds--the fruits of our labor, literally and figuratively. And it was good.
Nine years ago, on a hot summer day, when I walked down the aisle of a church in New Hampshire on my dad's arm to my beaming husband-to-be, I had no idea where that choice to knit the rest of our lives together would lead us. And it has led us into a few storms. But it's led us other places, too. Good places. And always back into each other's arms, even at the end of the hardest days.
Mark, thank you. Thank you for being a better husband than I could have imagined and for being such a sweet, thoughtful, and loving Dad. I love seeing you through the kids' eyes, because a dad holds a special place in a Little's heart. I see a leader, a builder, a teacher, a hugger, a healer, a soother, a fixer of all things broken, a finder of all things lost. When things feel uncertain, when their world tilts too far in one direction, they look for you. We all do.
Which begs the question, is life with kids really that hard on a marriage? Yes, yes it is. It is on ours anyway. And I'd be skeptical of anyone who claimed that their marriage is as fresh and new post-children as it was pre-children. (I believe I said something to my sister today along the lines of, "Don't ever have kids!" I may have actually shouted it over the phone line. I didn't mean it, of course. I was just up to my eyeballs in whining and crying and poop and spilled yogurt tubes on a 110 degree day in July.)
This is why celebrating anniversaries, even a nondescript one like little old nine, is so important. Mark and I had as much fun planning which dates we would revisit as we did actually going on one. And the best part was that after the walk down memory lane and the night free of children, we came home to three sleeping cherubs snugged in their beds--the fruits of our labor, literally and figuratively. And it was good.
Nine years ago, on a hot summer day, when I walked down the aisle of a church in New Hampshire on my dad's arm to my beaming husband-to-be, I had no idea where that choice to knit the rest of our lives together would lead us. And it has led us into a few storms. But it's led us other places, too. Good places. And always back into each other's arms, even at the end of the hardest days.
Mark, thank you. Thank you for being a better husband than I could have imagined and for being such a sweet, thoughtful, and loving Dad. I love seeing you through the kids' eyes, because a dad holds a special place in a Little's heart. I see a leader, a builder, a teacher, a hugger, a healer, a soother, a fixer of all things broken, a finder of all things lost. When things feel uncertain, when their world tilts too far in one direction, they look for you. We all do.
Happy Anniversary.