Ten Years

10 Years…

My husband and I have actually been together for over 12 years, but married “only” 10 years. I’m actually not amazed, just grateful that I found my soul mate at such a young age.

I feel so blessed that we beat the odds, most couples who marry so young don’t make it ten years. There is good reason for this, it isn’t easy becoming an adult while you’re tied to another person who’s becoming an adult also, there are a lot of changes that take place in between high school, college, first careers, pregnancy, and parenthood, but hopefully the changes while feeling scary and uncertain can strengthen a relationship if they are handled with care.

What is really surprising to me is what love means to me now as an adult. See when I was in grade school “love” was the cutest boy in class, who hopefully wasn’t too mean. In junior high it was the cute boy who let me wear his jacket, and whose name was most likely scrawled all over my binder. In high school I mistakenly thought it was the guy who brought me a beer at a party. I did meet Dave at a party, but I soon found out that he wasn’t like any of the other guys.

I could go on and on about my husband and how wonderful he is, I could tell you the story of how we met, but instead I want to share with you a glimpse of how life after 10 years of marriage is for Dave and me.

It’s stressful and wonderful, it’s exhausting and exciting, it’s everything and nothing like I thought it would be.

This morning I woke up to the sound of a crying baby and a four year old tapping me on the shoulder as she danced her “I have to go potty” dance. I grudgingly roll out of bed, accidently kicking my dog in the face, the mean “morning” Shauna groans, “That’ll teach him for sleeping under the covers on my feet all night!” I take Madi potty, while shushing Indiana who is now growling at me, (our dog is 10 and very cranky in his old age.)

Needless to say, by the time I actually get to go to the bathroom, brush my teeth or even look in the mirror it’s close to 8:00 am. Between feeding the crying baby, hot chocolate for Madi, taking Indi out and of course figuring out a method of getting caffeine into my body, well it’s just a little crazy around here.

By lunch I’m awake and happy, Dave is on his way home, I haven’t made anything yet, but he doesn’t seem to care as he walks into the crazy messy house and begins his usual conversation with Madi on how her morning was.

By the time Madi and I are done with school work, crafts, playing, and housework I’m beat, but it’s time for dinner, on a lot of nights Dave will cook, he is by far a better chef than I, and he loves it, so I gladly relinquish that duty.

After putting the kids to bed, Dave and I both collapse on the couch, exhausted from our busy day. We talk and laugh and plan what we’ll do the next few hours of freedom we have. Most nights (when it’s not raining) we’ll go out on the deck and watch the sun set. I’ll notice he’s drinking my water and ask for it back, he’ll inform me it’s HIS water(I left mine inside)…but then hand it to me anyway.

This probably sounds insanely boring to most people, in fact a lot of nights Dave and I reminisce about the college days when our biggest dilemma was a term paper or exam we hadn’t studied for. But to me, this routine, this daily progression of life is wonderful. It’s consistent, it’s routine, it’s peaceful, and I love it.

So at night when Dave and I finally make our way up stairs, we look in on the girls and suddenly all the stress of the day melts away, although we are both silently whispering “don’t wake up, don’t wake up.” And as we close our eyes for the night and lift the covers trying to coax Indiana to come on the bed to warm our feet I think of the irony and how confused my dog must be. In the morning I’m kicking him (on accident) growling at him, in the evening I’m begging for him to warm my feet, he doesn’t seem to mind though, because that’s how it is when you love unconditionally, you forgive without even knowing you did, and you do whatever makes the other person happy ultimately knowing that when they are happy you’ll be happy too. So Indiana jumps under the covers and curls up on top our feet.

Tonight is different though, Lilly starts crying and wakes Madi up, somehow they both end up in our bed, and Dave and I are squished to the sides, hanging on as to not roll off. Indiana is now comatose and WON’T move a muscle, he’s sprawled across the bottom half of the bed on his back with his feet standing straight in the air. Dave and I take note of the situation; the dog, the kids (who for reason sleep diagonally, brilliantly dominating their territory in our bed) and us, each hanging on to our side, uncomfortably grasping the top of the mattress so we won’t fall and wake everyone up and have to start all over again. We silently giggle at one another; he blows me a kiss as he shakes his head at the ridiculousness of our situation. And I sigh (quietly of course) because I know even with the bruises I’ll have tomorrow from Madi kicking me, my chronic back ache, and the knowledge that now I have to pee but am too scared to get up and wake everyone…

Yes, this is my life, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.