Nothing says happy anniversary--15 years for E and me yesterday--like a nice hacking cough.
But, that's the thing about marriage. We give lip service to the whole "for better or for worse" thing, but, at least for me, that's what makes 15 years of marriage worth it--workable--hell, possible.
So, rather than sitting in a fancy restaurant (well, as fancy as it gets in Southern Utah) eating crab and "remembering when," I stayed in bed coughing up chunks while E taxied Janz to karate, picked up take out, helped Soph with homework, and worked out the final details of our home sale with the realtor.
And that is why I love him and why I'm married to him.
The thing is, though, that's not why I married him in the first place. I married him when I was 20, and at 20 I wanted to marry him because he was sexy, smart, just bad enough to be interesting, and I had wanted to jump his bones ever since that first make-out session on the debate trip bus.
And don't get me wrong. My husband is sexier and smarter today than he was then, and his bones are still ever-so-jumpable. But. But I'm different now. In reality, we grew up together. Regardless of what the law may say, you're not an adult at 20. Shit, you can't even buy beer. And the fact that on our anniversary he took care of me, took care of our kids, and took care of business is what really keeps me going, is what makes me grateful, is what fills my heart and causes me to look forward to the next 15 years with hope and promise.
Today's best thing about being a mom: This morning, Soph was transforming her room into "Candy-cane Cove;" her idea of a winter wonderland, singing Jingle Bells all the while, with nothing but a few old decorations and a bag of pipe-cleaners.
Toady's worst thing about being a mom: 8-year-olds are sure hard to Christmas shop for. There are no "wow" items left. Plus, she's really moving away from the little kid toys and there's NO WAY IN HELL she's getting a phone.