My husband and I have four children. They pretty much run our lives.
Our schedules now revolve around their schedules. Because we like for our kids to be well-rounded members of society.
So we run ourselves to death. Because we love it.
There isn’t much alone time for us these days. At night, the kids finally in bed, when there actually is time for us, we usually fall asleep on whatever piece of furniture that we accidentally leaned against.
Sitting is for the weak.
However, when you are married, you have to make time for one another. Because if not for that relationship, then you would have never had those amazingly busy kids.
It started with you two.
So in an effort to stay connected, we implemented a standing Friday lunch date. Just the two of us. At our favorite spot.
It is something that I look forward to every week. A chance to sit. Not stand. And actually enjoy a meal while it is still warm. Unlike at home.
There is no one asking for a napkin. No one is spilling a drink all over my food. No one has to poop.
It’s just Hubs and myself. We even engage in meaningful conversation. Like grown folks should.
More weeks than not, he beats me to the restaurant. He gets a table for two and waits. I arrive a few minutes later, eager to enjoy our time.
I usually see him before he sees me. I watch him scan the room out of boredom. People watching to pass the time. And then his eyes meet mine.
Every single time that I walk into that restaurant, when he first spots me, he looks at me like I am the most beautiful woman in the world. For just a moment, a smile on his lips.
I’ve never shared with him before that I have noticed.
We have been married for twelve years. We aren’t newlyweds. We aren’t in the Fifty Years Club.
We are in the middle. As most of you are.
And if you are married then you know. Marriage is hard.
Like, real hard.
It is the most challenging thing that you will ever volunteer for.
You vow to spend you life with someone, That means day after day after day. But no one tells you just how long forever is. Or just how hard it will be.
Love isn’t enough. It takes work. Hard work.
Every single day.
No two people are exactly alike. Working together to run a household, a family, and finances. Sharing debt, a mortgage and children. It can be a huge challenge.
Wait, I didn’t mean that it CAN be challenging. I meant that it absolutely WILL be challenging.
In marriage you have to learn to work as a team. And to compromise. You will never agree on everything.
In only twelve years, we have already seen peaks and valleys. It goes with the territory. Four children, job changes, moving. Stressors can make it difficult to stay on the same page.
There have been days when I didn’t care if I ever saw his face again. And I am sure there are more of those days to come.
That’s called marriage.
No marriage is perfect. And if you think that one is, then you are wrong. Because in marriage, there is no rule book. No proven formula. No cheat sheet.
There are just two people, who promise to love one another. And to fight for one another. And to forgive one another.
There are days when my husband leaves for work, already exasperated with me. Because I just so happen to have a talent for exasperating people.
But throughout the course of the day, he forgives me. Because that is what marriage is about. Accepting someone. Even on days when you would rather poke their eyes out with an olive fork.
Not that I’ve thought about doing that. Because that is both awful and illegal.
I am still amazed though, how every single time that I walk into that restaurant, he sees the woman that he fell in love with. It is written all over his face. For just a moment.
It occurred to me that I have never written a post about my husband.
Once you have a family, the game changes. Life has a way of happening. And time marches forward.
But this home started with two people. Two people who get up every day and look at one another. Then agree that no matter what life throws at them, they are in this together.
Marriage is choosing your spouse, one day at a time.
I can only hope that one day we will be ridiculously old. And I hope that he still wants to meet for lunch. No matter how wrinkled, mouthy or grumpy I may be, I hope he will still see the woman that he fell in love with, all those years ago.
If only for just a moment.