…and here we are!
Today, instead of amusing you with witticisms and my maternal hilarity, I’d like to make a quick tribute to my absolute BFF and favorite (only…) partner in this thing we call life.
I won’t gush and mush about how dashing he is or how he unloads a dishwasher like a pro, because who really wants to hear that? To any unmarrieds out there, I will roll my eyes at a few marriage stereotypes instead, lest you think the inevitable will happen.
1. This sounds ridiculously unromantic (I fancy myself rather practical), but when the Hubs made an incredibly romantic gesture and proposed, I accepted because I knew he was the person I wanted by my side when life’s storms hit. Not exactly the fireworks and dreamy sighs of romance novels, but seven years in and things are looking swell. Plus, it’s important to have someone who can take care of a baby’s poopsplosion without gagging and handing it off to you.
2. I didn’t marry a man like my father, but I did apparently marry a man more like my mother. That sounds weird.
Then again, in a lot of ways, I’m a carbon copy of my father, so this was bound to happen (I made a “dad joke” at church on Sunday and realized it was exactly what my dad would’ve done. I inherited a lot of his good qualities too, but dad jokes? Really?) Also, the Husband is a strong copy of his mother, so perhaps he married his father? Do I only resemble middle-aged men?
3. We heard two predictions before we were married and into our early years (I realize we’re still in our semi-early years). One, you’ll breeze through the “honeymoon stage” with stardust in your eyes, and then reality will strike and you’ll despise each other. Or, two, you’ll fight like old men and kids on their lawn in the beginning, as you realize you’ll never get your own room (or bed!) again. I dunno. I married a very laid-back man, so maybe that’s how we dodged both of those? I’m not saying our marriage has always been daisies and rainbows, but there were never Cliffs of Insanity off which we fell, dove, or tumbled.
4. Stay on the same team. Yes, this is ridiculously cliché. I’m writing this in our bedroom (imagine an unmade bed and piles of clean laundry, both of which I’m handily ignoring as I tap away), and over our bed we have a quote from Tim Keller’s The Meaning of Marriage — “A haven in a heartless world.” That’s what I want our marriage to be for the next 80 years (as I’m clearly going to become a centenarian). I want to be my husband’s (and my children’s, for that matter) safe place to land. This world is tough and becoming tougher, and the last place we need to cave to temptation, evil, and ugliness is in our home.
OK, woah. That was deep-ish. I’ll get back to amusing anecdotes and books for rugrats in my next post, but I felt more inspired to head in this direction.
Beach time soon! My mom keeps calling it our “seventh honeymoon,” which seems like a bit much, but I’ll take it since she and my dad are taking on two energetic littles for three nights (THREE NIGHTS!). For three glorious noches it won’t be me waking up to “Potty! I need to go potty!” and “Waaaahhh!” (my visual impression of my daughter saying, “Good morning, Mama! I love you and I miss you!”).
We plan to eat well, read well, sleep well, and game well (yes, yes, we play video games when we don’t have mini-versions of us running around). We’re also intending to see Dunkirk, which I’m surprisingly nervous to endure. Hopefully, my bloated, popcorn-and-Snowcaps-filled belly will cushion any emotional scarring.
Did anyone give you crazy marriage advice that you care to debunk? Seriously. We heard it constantly.