When was the last time you really hugged your spouse. Like really hugged them, given them one hundred percent of your attention? I know the last time I hugged the Hubbs, because it was the first time I had done it in months.
I've always said that marriage, including my marriage, is very hard. It's a job. It's another part of life that requires work. I didn't think that once I got married life would be a fairy tale, but holy hell, I thought it would be easier than it really is. I never once realized that marriage is something that has to be cultivated. Something that has to continually hold your attention so that it grows and flourishes. No one bothered to tell me that along the way.
I think as mothers, and as women, we take on the world. We carry it around as if it's a badge of honor. Look at me, I can do all of the things, with minimal help, and oh look, I just posted a picture of me doing all of the things on Instagram. We give, and give, we create, and clean, and make our worlds a better place, daily. Then at the end of the day something happens. We deflate, one hundred percent, and we don't want a single thing. We don't want to be talked to, or touched, or anything of the sort. We want our wine, our favorite TV show on DVR, and sleep. We always want our sleep.
So what does that say to our spouse?
I never once imagined that the Hubbs would notice that I hadn't hugged him. Or spent real time with him. I was even surprised that he would question my happiness or my desire to stay married to him. How on earth could he even think that? But when you walk around with a dark cloud over your head, yell about every little thing, and demand to be left alone for three freaking minutes for the love of all things Scandal... Yeah, I can see where he could doubt me.
I'm the first person to be an advocate for free time. I'm a mom to two wonderful little girls who think the world revolves around them, because it kind of does. I work part time now. I'm a friend, I'm a daughter, I'm a Daisy troop leader, and I'm a writer. I have to make time for all of these things, plus me. But did you see what I forgot to mention? I'm also a wife.
I forget I'm a wife. I forget that for a lot of years it was just me and the Hubbs, before he was the Hubbs. I forget that I'm still a wife, and that he still needs to know that I am. He still needs to feel that I'm his wife. That I love him, even if i want to talk to my bestie on the phone, or watch Scandal instead of talking to him about my day. I forget that out of all the other people that I continually give and give of myself to, I need to give him a little of me too. I forget that even he, the man who hates to hold hands, needs a unsolicited hug every once in a while.
I've said to him, more that once, that I feel like I give and give all day, and that at the end of the day I have nothing left to give. That's not very fair is it? I'm not proud of being a total bitch at the end of the day, with zero motivation, and only the desire to sleep. But I have been, and I am. But now I'm trying to turn a corner.
After fourteen years of dating, not dating, and being married to the Hubbs, I'm humbled by the fact that I still have many lessons to learn on being a wife. That the work doesn't end after you hit the five year mark, or the ten year mark. Marriage is a continuous job, just like motherhood. There is something very refreshing and very scary about being brutally and totally honest, with someone who knows you best. Finding out how far you can go with honesty. Feeling safe again after baring so much. It's so easy to forget that I fell in love with him for the simple fact that I could always be myself with him. That he always accepted the person that I am. Yet, here I am, learning that saying those three little words, mean nothing if the person who hears them can't feel it. I can write a million blog posts about how much I love the Hubbs, but I have to actually love him, for him to know it.
I feel like loving someone is truly without context. It's something you say, and something you do, but how do you put it into context? How do you make it into something tangible, something you can hold on to. Something you can give the other person, your spouse, your love, and say "Here, here is how I love you. Here is how you know". Last week I found context.
Last week, Mac asked the Hubbs to measure her. We've been measuring the girls on their door jams since they could stand on their own. Caitlin has measurements on two door jams in this house, since she's had two different rooms. So, the Hubbs did just that, he measured Mac on her door jam, and showed her just how much she had grown. And as I watched I felt it. That tangible thing, the context, that maybe, just maybe, he needed to hold. Because that is what I have always wanted with him, a house filled with door jams marked with proof of growing children. Those little unspoken things that make up the big thing. That make up this life. Who knew all those years ago, that door jams marked with sharpies would be the exact thing I'd been waiting for in my life.
It's so hard to show that kind of love isn't it? It's easy to put those feeling into words, but to show it, on a daily basis? That's hard. I think that is why marriage is so hard. It feels like a given. You take it for granted. Your spouse is your spouse. They are supposed to be here, they are supposed to love you, but you know what? You are supposed to love them back. You are supposed to show up too. Marriage can be the constant, but you just can't take it for granted. I didn't realize that I had been taking the Hubbs for granted for some time. That I just assumed that he would know my love, without me having to do too much. Unfairly so, since I always ask him to hold my hand. The one thing that he hates to do, and not because it's my hand, but because he thinks it lame. But he always does it anyway. You'd think that I'd remember that when he wants me, without distraction.
I always read on Pinterest or Instagram, quotes that say hug your babies, or hold your babies close. Today I'm going to tell you to hug your spouse, hold them tight and hold them close. Tell them and show them that you are here, that you showed up today, no matter how much you want to disappear into that book, or blog, or Instagram feed. Give them a little bit more of you, before you deflate. Before you take for granted something you think is a given.
As cliche as it is, actions do speak louder than words. I just never realized that love demands to be the loudest.
I learned a long time ago that we don't do mushy. We don't big puffy heart anything around here. We never have. The sweeping romantic gesture has never been a staple in our relationship. But I'm ok with all of that. I knew, the night that I met you that I wanted you in my life. Even if we hated each other at first. I think that was part of the attraction, we both wanted to have the last word. I've discovered that there is no last word in this relationship. There will be a last anything. But just for today, I will put you on the spot, in the way you hate the most, to celebrate this day, that you hate the most.
I love you. And not in an "He's so dreamy" way, but in a whole body, something is missing without you kind of way.
We didn't have the traditional courtship of our peers. We spent our nights boozy and free. Too afraid to admit how we really felt about each other. Because it was so powerful. It had roots. We had a tangled web before we even had a chance to spin it. It's just the way it was. It's just the way that it is.
We dated on and off for three years. The off times just about killed me. I pined for you. I held my breath for you. I came running as soon as you called. There were so many people who said I was crazy and out of my mind. But I didn't care. I knew this was what I wanted. It's what I've always wanted. But those years left so many scars that we can't erase. Even if we want to. It's no wonder that I still wake in a panic, thinking that I'm back in my sorority house bunk, waiting for your call, only to find relief at the sight of our sleeping babies.
The love part has been easy. I fell, so hard and so deeply. It was so absolute. I drowned in it and bathed in it. It's the marriage part that has been so hard. I'm flawed and messy. I'm spoiled and self centered. I'm not saying you are perfect either, and together we are no walk in the park.
But I have never thought about a life without you. Since we met, my story has included you. Because there is no me without you. I am who I am today, in this moment because I fell in love with you and you eventually fell in love with me. This life with you has never been easy, but I don't think we would want it that way. Easy was never part of the plan, but love always was.
You my love, are the great story of my life. I could write one thousand stories about anyone and no one, everyone and someone, but none of those stories would be as important as the one I'm writing with you. Because all of those other stories have endings. but we continue to write new chapters of this story. This is the one that matters the most.
Today is Valentine's Day and all I can think about are all of those Valentine's days of our past. The email you sent me that first year, that reminded me that you must still think about me too. The phone call after months of silence, like a peace offering, like an apology. The year you spent Valentine's Day in Alaska and sent me flowers via a local flower shop, and they included a teddy bear that you swore you would never buy me if given a choice. I still laugh about that now. Our first Valentine's Day as parents when I burned dinner and we ate no bake cheese cake out of the pan instead.
As much as you hate our life being on full display on this blog, I felt like it needed to be said. Because sometimes I love yous aren't enough. But know this: I love you, in a grand romantic gesture kind of way. I love you in a big puffy heart, unicorn and flowers kind of way. I love you because I still have your first cell phone number memorized, somehow forever tattooed on my heart. I love you because you asked my dad for my hand in marriage, as if people our age still did that anymore. I love you because you were so excited the day Caitlin was born, and so exhausted the day Mac was born. I love you because you let me shower first, even when I'm going to make you late for work, and I love you because you will eat at Cheesecake again, because you know it's my favorite. I love you because we can talk in movie quotes and because a night in our bed watching movies is just as good as any date night.
I love you. Because it's what I decided to do that summer night in 1999. When you made fun of my hat. When you accused me of stealing your beer. When I gave you my number anyway.
I love you because my life would have never worked without you.
Because you finally came to your good senses and loved me back.
Because you lose all of that good sense when you love me anyway.
I love you because you have always fought the good fight for this one thing.
Our thing.
Happy Valentine's Day in the mushy, sentimental, big puffy heart kind of way that you hate.
Your Welcome.
