Thirteen years ago today, I said, “I do.” Earlier this year, I did it again. Each wedding meant something big to me, but anniversaries? I’m not really the type.
I’m not the girl who remembers the day of our first kiss. I couldn’t tell you the night of our first date. I can’t recall the date he proposed. What I remember are the feelings—the giddy, butterflies-in-your-stomach, never going to forget this moment feelings.
The dates are fleeting in my memory, but, the wedding date? Well, I wrote it down. And, so we celebrate year after year—it’s nice to mark the time and know we’re still making it. He’s still the one. We’re beating the odds. And, we’d do it all over again.
Usually, though, we celebrate on a weekend surrounding our wedding. This year, we’re booked until October. So, when I realized how much free time I was going to have now that Lorelai is in preschool, I suggested a morning date after dropping the girls at school.
I thought we could turn it in to our Letter M alphabet date, originally slated to be an afternoon at museums, but with 3 kids we’re nothing, if not flexible. I pictured a leisurely morning in bed, content just to snuggle in the peace & quiet, a walk through our small town & an early lunch at a quiet cafe before preschool pickup.
He pictured something else entirely. I think the biggest problem, there, is I didn’t let him know what I had in mind. So, when he rushed me to get ready, brushed past me without commentary on the care I took to get ready and told me we had to hurry so he could get to work, he didn’t understand why I was upset.
We parked in front of a local diner and tried to talk it out, but a whole mess of other stuff managed to come up. I’m sure to passersby, we just looked like we were waiting for something. And, I think we usually are. We’re waiting for life to get easier. Waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for our thoughts & goals to just mesh.
Without a lot of thought or conversation about how we’re going to make that happen. So, our morning date was canceled in favor of talking. And tears. And more talking. We’ve still got a mess of stuff to figure out, but who doesn’t? We’ll just have to keep talking and figure it out.
Because we’ve still got half the alphabet to get through. Not to mention the rest of our lives. And, I’ll marry him again if I have to. Next time, I want the princess gown & a castle. Not that I’ve put a lot of thought into it or anything.
Ugh, no one ever tells you how hard marriage can be. You know, after the fairy tale/honeymoon phase is over. I used to think it was just us, that everyone else found their relationships in a marriage so easy. But the more I confide in friends the more I realize that good, strong marriages take work. Do you read Dooce at all? She just did a post about one of her and her husband’s therapy sessions, where they covered the schedule of how things go that’s all in her head. And how she always expected her husband to just know what was floating around in there. I laughed because I saw myself in that, too – knowing full well what MY expectations are, but forgetting that Mike is pretty much incapable of reading my mind. We’ve been married 13 years this year, too. Congrats on making it this far!