Twelve Years?!

Dang. So young. So innocent. He had no clue what he was getting into.

Dang. So young. So innocent. He had no clue what he was getting into.


Holy old cheezits.

Today is our twelfth wedding anniversary.

How the HECK did that happen?!

Looking back, I’m honestly not sure.

I do suspect that Wolf is either a glutton for punishment, or not quite right. Frankly, that’s about the only logical explanation for why he’d stick around this long.

Sometimes, I catch him eyeing me, as though I were an interesting, yet dangerous specimen, in his own personal zoo.

I think that may well be the heart of my marriage: He’s not sure what I’ll do next, but doesn’t want to miss it.

Which gives me some performance anxiety. What if I become…well…normal?

*hysterical laughter*

Ok, so there’s little to no chance of that. I’m far too whimsical.

Honestly, we’ve gone through so much in our marriage. Me almost dying before the wedding. Being so broke at the beginning, I’m genuinely not sure how the heck we made it through. Job loss, pregnancies, babies, me becoming disabled, more job loss, more babies, surgery during pregnancy. Long distance moves.

Our marriage has definitely not ever been boring.

Someone asked me how we’ve stayed married through it all. What’s my secret? Why does my marriage work?

Laughter, for one.

No matter how hard things have been, we’ve always been able to laugh together. And when you have someone who can always make you laugh, that’s a precious thing.

Respect is another huge one. My husband amazes me. He’s an awesome Dad, a great husband, and a great person. I love talking to him. He has a perspective so different from my own, I see things in a whole new way.

Our strengths and weaknesses work together. I can’t read a map for love or money. He’s got GPS in his brain. I get anxious in social situations, and tend to look at people like they’ve flicked boogers at me. He can manage any social situation with diplomacy and set everyone at ease. I’m more of a bubble wrap parent. As I’ve said to him, “I gave them life. You encourage them to risk it.” I’m a coddler. He’s the one that pushes and encourages the kids to take risks, and is the one cheering loudest when they do something that they didn’t think they could. He gives me balance. Me? I think I give him an adrenaline rush. Instead of going bungee jumping, he just teases the heck out of me, and smirks while I threaten to shave his eyebrows as he sleeps.

I think the biggest reason our marriage works? We know that nobody else would get us the way we do. We fit. We have since we first met. We’ve learned where the minefields are, and how to get through them. We’ve learned, together, how to dig up and disarm those mines too. And we really, really LIKE each other.

Setting aside the husband and wife, Mom and Dad roles, I like the man. Talking to him, be it about nonsense, like heads in a pot, or planning our future? It just rocks. I love hearing his ideas. Heck, even after twelve years of marriage, his voice on the phone still makes me twitterpated.


Maybe that’s another thing: maybe we’re both just horny.

Or, maybe, as Wolf once told Diva, “You guys outnumber us. Staying together is our only hope of survival!”

Or maybe…

Maybe, it’s love.

Sure, it’s not the loooooove that the media would have you think is true. There are no long slow walks on the beach. No whispered words in front of a roaring fire, or candelight and rose petals. No grand romantic gestures. No perfect hair, make up and wardrobe. We’ve proven we’re just not that good at what romance is supposed to be.

But, maybe, just maybe, what we have is what love really is.

Laughter. Respect. Team work. Shared goals and dreams. Sneaking off to share a slice of cheesecake so the kids don’t demand a bite. Trusting each other with our ugly that we keep hidden from everyone else. The bad memories, our mistakes, our nightmares, our tears…and not the pretty, one or two tears trickling down a cheek either, but a big old ugly cry. The snotting, the gasping, the hiccuping. The footie jammies, Superman pajama pants, baby puke on the shoulder. Him dealing with rodents because I’m terrified of them.

And nooky.


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Twelve Years?! — 2 Comments

  1. Congratulations on finding just the right formula. Or hitting the jackpot. I guess it’s really a little of both–some hard work, some luck, and a lot of laughter. I would offer my hopes for another twelve years, but I hope it will be much longer than that for both of you.

    • Given what’s going on now, probably not lighter, LOL! But, we’ll get through whatever, together. It’s nice to have one thing in your life you can hold on to.

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