Tag Archives: marriage

Flashback Friday ~ Love

Feb 11, 2010 019

Remembering the Reasons was originally posted on November 24th, 2009

The last time we moved {almost two years ago} we didn’t unpack our numerous boxes of books. Our reasoning? We cannot have bookshelves with toddlers without anchoring them to the walls. And we didn’t want to do that… because we didn’t think we’d be here that long. Oh and space, we have no space for bookshelves.

Fast forward to knowing we’ll be here for three years total.

I miss my books.

So over the weekend I went searching through hundreds of books for one or two in particular. I went through every single box, because {of course} the specific few I went looking for were in the last box, in the way back of the second thoroughly disected closet, under about six other boxes. In the process, I found about a dozen others that just had to be brought out. Some were mine, but most were my husbands. You see, between my Political Science degree with an English minor, and his English major, we have quite the collection.

Through a closet and two rooms  I called out “Hey, how was Gandhi’s autobiography?”, “did you know you had so many of Kerouac’s books?” and I might have muttered something along the lines of “how many works of Shakespeare can two people possibly own?” They all took me back.

All of those books played an instrumental role in the story of Corinne & Lucas. The first time I saw his apartment I was in love. It was perfect. It was located on a gorgeous street in a historical old New England town. He resided on the top floor of a renovated house, centuries old, with angled ceilings and tiny windows. A view of the street, without the noise, where you could see the snow on the town common accompanied by dog walkers and couples taking a brisk February stroll. But while it had all the staples of a bachelor pad {you know… dvd’s, video games, bare fridge, the just cleaned for a date smell…} it also had books. Rows and rows of books.

And I love books.

We sat and talked about different titles. I stole several minutes staring at the antique works and finely bound collections. The man had books. And he actually read them. He showed me albums of places that he’d been, told me stories of traveling through Europe alone, he came to life as he exposed his love of road trips, nature, and art. It wasn’t one of those first date shows, there was something so sincere and passionate about all that he had done, and all that he wanted to do.

I loved him.

And over the weekend as I got my answers to the questions I called out, “It’s good if you want to know what Gandhi ate” and “yes, I know” and even “did you say something?” I felt this warm fuzzy feeling that you get when you remember a forgotten reason. I smiled to myself several times looking through our collection. At points you could tell which one came from where, a definite his and hers; but the more years we’re together the more the divide dwindles.

I miss our books.

And I still love him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Today I’m taking part in Jo’s Flashback Friday. Today’s prompt is LOVE…  Head over to check out more blasts from the past!

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Small, yet heartfelt, acknowledgements

Months ago Lucas and I spent a Saturday or Sunday running around with the kids. Normally we limit our ins and outs because our kids {like everyone else’s} are not a fan of multiple stops when it comes to errands. We had stopped no less than four times, and were headed to our last stop, when from the backseat we heard that a truck had been broken, and couldn’t Daddy fix it? Daddy, on his last string of patience, told him something along the lines that he broke it, so it wouldn’t be getting fixed.

{not a normal thing this Daddy says…. this man totes around the patience of a saint most days, and can fix almost anything that has a wheel popped off, or a bed unattached}

I caught myself reaching to the back, grabbing the truck, and attached the broken piece. We caught each others eyes and snickered, so worn out from buckling and unbuckling, lifting, rushing, keeping hands off of shelves… and he said the magic words to me.

Thank goodness you’re the stay at home parent.

Dec 28, 2009 086

A small, yet heartfelt, acknowledgement.

I take them when I get them. Just as he takes every Thank goodness you have a job that you enjoy, and you’re such a wonderful provider that comes out of my mouth on too few occasion.

Not every woman is cut out to be a career woman. Not every woman is cut out to stay at home with the kids. Not every man has the drive to bring home the bacon, and occasionally, when asked to, fry it up as well. Thankfully, we are cut out for the tasks at hand.

Dec 28, 2009 020

Last night the kids slept poorly, and then woke up too early this morning. With that in mind I canceled a playdate, and had a few small errands in my head that we could do before an early naptime. As we readied ourselves for the day, we talked about what was on our agenda. My agenda. Fynn was not please. So we threw caution to the wind, and flew by the seat of our snowpants. The morning was spent on a muddy yet frozen playground, with snow boots and mittens and hats. We went with the flow. Not all mothers could do that.

This evening, after a Monday that left me with smiles instead of a headache, Fynn came up to me and put my face in his hands. Looked at me and said with a smile You’re a good mommy.

A small, yet heartfelt, acknowledgement. I’ll take it.

Dec 28, 2009 080

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Every chance

Intoxicated.

Not from the pomegranate martinis, however potent and festive, but from him.

There is something so incredibly sexy and intoxicating about a man who listens. Actually listens. My husband does. It might be why I fell in love with him. He was the first man in the long string of men I dated who listened whole heartedly.

Today came with a few hours to ourselves. His parents came to play with the kids, and we went out for lunch and a bit of stocking stuffer shopping. We embrace any opportunity for a date with open arms. We love our children, but we also love each other. Deeply.

So we kiss our children goodbye, leave them in very capable hands, and take off into the afternoon sun through winter winds to a spot where we can be, and eat, and talk.  The kind of talk that you do early on in relationships. Deep talks where you listen. Only now it’s about parts of our daily lives that rarely get divulged to each other due to children and chores and laptops. We talk about exciting things at his work, and about my upcoming writing class/workshop. He listens as I talk about this blog, and the friends that have come from blogging. We talk about things that normally get pushed aside for grocery lists, children’s books and daily happenings. We talk. We listen. We fall in love.

Every chance we get, we fall in love again.

Intoxication comes over quickly and I’m dumbfounded by the man who sits across the table from me. Smart, handsome, caring; everything I could have asked for in a husband, a partner in parenting, a friend. He’s mine, and I’m his, and the world – however cruel it seems at times – is wonderful.

We walk out of the restaurant doors into the winter wind, but we don’t feel the sting against our cheeks. We wrap arms around one another, snuggle in, and walk as one down side streets that we once ran down when we were newly in love. Years later as newlyweds. And now as a couple five years into a marriage that has seen its ups and downs, but we always manage to run through the finish line at the end of the day. Still holding hands, oblivious to the sting.

We hold on to each other for dear life, and take the opportunity to fall in love again every chance we get.

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Friday night

This is what our Friday night look like

two glasses of red, chips straight out of the bag {they taste better that way…}, salsa and a paused movie because the baby woke up

and the movie {Be Kind Rewind, for those wondering} has been paused about a dozen times for the same reason

but these are our nights

we steal moments while we can

sipping red and eating a bit of fire

rejoicing in the quiet moments while they last

they are few and far between

so we enjoy them as they come

sitting next to each other finding ourselves laughing at the same moments

reconnecting for seconds at a time

it’s love

and it’s parenthood

while they’re young we take our moments as they are given

our uninterrupted ones will come later

and while we look forward to them and all their glory

right now we wouldn’t change a thing

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Remembering the reasons

The last time we moved {almost two years ago} we didn’t unpack our numerous boxes of books. Our reasoning? We cannot have bookshelves with toddlers without anchoring them to the walls. And we didn’t want to do that… because we didn’t think we’d be here that long. Oh and space, we have no space for bookshelves.

Fast forward to knowing we’ll be here for three years total.

I miss my books.

So over the weekend I went searching through hundreds of books for one or two in particular. I went through every single box, because {of course} the specific few I went looking for were in the last box, in the way back of the second thoroughly disected closet, under about six other boxes. In the process, I found about a dozen others that just had to be brought out. Some were mine, but most were my husbands. You see, between my Political Science degree with an English minor, and his English major, we have quite the collection.

Through a closet and two rooms  I called out “Hey, how was Gandhi’s autobiography?”, “did you know you had so many of Kerouac’s books?” and I might have muttered something along the lines of “how many works of Shakespeare can two people possibly own?” They all took me back.

All of those books played an instrumental role in the story of Corinne & Lucas. The first time I saw his apartment I was in love. It was perfect. It was located on a gorgeous street in a historical old New England town. He resided on the top floor of a renovated house, centuries old, with angled ceilings and tiny windows. A view of the street, without the noise, where you could see the snow on the town common accompanied by dog walkers and couples taking a brisk February stroll. But while it had all the staples of a bachelor pad {you know… dvd’s, video games, bare fridge, the just cleaned for a date smell…} it also had books. Rows and rows of books.

And I love books.

We sat and talked about different titles. I stole several minutes staring at the antique works and finely bound collections. The man had books. And he actually read them. He showed me albums of places that he’d been, told me stories of traveling through Europe alone, he came to life as he exposed his love of road trips, nature, and art. It wasn’t one of those first date shows, there was something so sincere and passionate about all that he had done, and all that he wanted to do.

I loved him.

And over the weekend as I got my answers to the questions I called out, “It’s good if you want to know what Gandhi ate” and “yes, I know” and even “did you say something?” I felt this warm fuzzy feeling that you get when you remember a forgotten reason. I smiled to myself several times looking through our collection. At points you could tell which one came from where, a definite his and hers; but the more years we’re together the more the divide dwindles.

I miss our books.

And I still love him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Please visit Emily at Chatting at the Sky for more Tuesday’s Unwrapped. You’ll find simple moments and simple mysteries unwrapped in everyday life. Enjoy!

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Together, whether we always like it or not

My brother and I met up for lunch yesterday afternoon. Rare, not because we hardly see each other, but because we were by ourselves. We see him often, but the kids adore their Uncle Toby so very much that I rarely see him when we’re visiting. He’s mostly off with the kids jumping on their beds, reading them books, playing dinosaurs or swinging them upside down.

So I was really looking forward to our lunch date. And it was wonderful. We talked, had a few margarita’s and hashed out details of a little project we’re working on. It was fabulous!

Then I came home.

I was enthusiastically greeted by the children, and when I asked my husband how he was, he just replied “I’m tired”. So I asked if he wanted to go take a nap, and off he went.

Then the children went crazy as I peeled a gazillion potatoes for soup, got dinner together for Paige (who apparently is now a bottomless pit and must be fed constantly), and tried to get Fynn to poop on the potty and not the floor. The husband came out at one point to help, only to get Paige worked up as he went back in to the bedroom and closed the door.

I wasn’t all that pleasant to anyone at that point. Here I was, just coming in from a fantastic afternoon, only to be overwhelmed with the reality of home. Where it seems every time I do something by myself, I come home only to realize that it might have been easier to stay home. I was mad at Lucas for not being able to handle the kids without being tired and cranky, because I do that all day during the week. I even packed the diaper bag for them before I left since he was taking them to the park. All he had to do was tell me if he wanted to take cereal or goldfish for a snack. He had it so easy.

So I banged pots and pans around the kitchen while cooking, might have spoken a little harshly to the children, and vowed to not make the delicious pear cobbler I had planned on whipping up that night.

Then the kids were eating, I finished peeling potatoes, and I calmed down. It wasn’t as bad as I thought. Really. He actually took both kids to the park, by himself, on gorgeous Sunday afternoon. The kids had fun, they were all in one piece, and I had a great afternoon out as an adult.

And really, how many times a week do I call my husband at work begging him to let me send the kids to military school? Probably a dozen. How many times do I tell him I’m exhausted? Probably a hundred. And he still comes home, most nights to chaos. With barely any time for himself. Scarfs down dinner, plays with the kids, and then tucks one into bed and walks the other to sleep. So I can have some quiet time.

After the kids went to bed I sat down and started wishing I had made that pear cobbler. I wasn’t punishing Lucas by not making the pear cobbler, he probably could have cared less (although… who are we kidding… you all know my husbands love of dessert!). I was only punishing myself. I was so mad at myself. For feeling like he couldn’t do anything right, for thinking I was the only one who could make this house run the way it should, for thinking everything should be perfect. It’s not. We’re not. We’re far from it.

We both face challenges in our days, challenges in parenting, challenges as a couple and as individuals. But the real challenge is staying connected, being a unit, and appreciating each other. Sometimes I don’t feel appreciated, I’m sure the same goes for him. But we’re in this together. Banging pots and pans and slamming doors aside, we’re a pretty good team. We just need a little help keeping that in mind.

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Knowingly

They followed us to the hotel elevator, they probably had a room a few doors down from us. We smiled and nodded as we held the elevator door for them. They could have been our parents. My husband and I spoke about how odd it was that as we were getting ready for a night out on the town, the kids were miles away at home hopefully tucked into their beds. The other coupled looked at each other and smiled knowingly, not speaking a word.

We thought we were going separate ways after leaving the hotel doors. Our night out consisted of finding a coffee shop, who knows where they were headed. Out of sight…

After finding our destination we hopped in line, waiting to order our drinks and a sweet treat. I turned around for a second, then did a double take. A familiar smile was behind us, along with his wife. Another nod.

We ordered, and then I went to sit and grab a table while my better half waited for our treats. She sat down as well, leaving her husband to wait with mine. The two men could have been identical, except for the grey hair. Black fleece pullovers, glasses, a certain stance. The older of the two glanced at the younger man now and then, then his wife, then at me, and smiled knowingly. Never spoke a word.

Orders in, we sat at our tables a cafe apart. Both couples enjoying a slice of heavenly red velvet cake… all joyful in the quiet moments. Warming chilled hands on hot cups of fall flavored lattes.

They left before we did, both glancing back and the husband put an arm around his wife, they smiled . Knowingly, in a sympathetic reminiscing sort of way. I looked at my husband, felt and saw love, and smiled the same smile.

Hopeful that we could be so lucky in the years to come.

Oct 12, 2009 062

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Please visit Emily at Chatting at the Sky for more Tuesday’s Unwrapped. You’ll find simple moments and simple mysteries unwrapped in every day life. Enjoy!

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