Ten years ago I walked down the aisle. Trying not to cry and promised all kinds of things I didn’t comprehend.
Like I remember promising to have and to hold.
But nothing about remembering to wash out my bowl after eating cereal or oatmeal.
Or sitting through countless hours of sports on TV.
Or ever remembering to not leave my shoes in front of the front door. And I expected to be holding each other. Not babies and laundry and never the remote.
For richer or poorer.
Mostly I think I was hoping for the first part, but assumed that the second part would be cozy. Like college. A one bedroom apartment and a lot of ramen noodles. I don’t think most people spend a lot of time thinking about the in between. Fighting over how much coffee one girl needs to buy at starbucks or if we really need Xbox live or why plane tickets are a much better investment than our 401K.
In sickness and health.
And. thankfully mostly we have been the latter. But that the sickness part can take it’s toll. That strep makes it’s way faster through the house than a scented candle. Or that I’d rather have a pelvic exam than have someone in my house get a stomach bug. That we would flip to see who was gonna stay home with a sick kid. That we would give that same sick kid motrin and hope for the best or to atleast be able to work until lunch. Or that men are babies when they are sick. That babies don’t sleep when they are sick and that our house would have a quarantine room.
To love and to cherish.
Those words were so idealistic a decade ago. I thought my heart would always swell and to cherish would be my husband rubbing my feet while we cuddle on the couch.
And those things have happened. But sometimes to love means to let him pick the radio station or getting up to let the dog in or put the baby back to bed or even very occasionally mowing the yard or putting away the laundry.
And cherish, well these days we cherish the rare moments of quiet and alone when we aren’t utterly exhausted, and that in those moments we still have things to talk about.
Til death do us part.
That sounds so final and morbid…so I’ll just focus on the fact that we have made it a decade. Which apparently, according to the statistics, is no easy task.
And marriage is hard. But maybe not as hard as some people warned me. Mostly because I think I’ve always gotten the better end of the deal. And haven’t always acted like it, but have known since we were both young and stupid that Shaun was home to me. And I’d say those vows again today. In a heartbeat. This time a little less clouded and wrapped up in the white dress and wedding cake.
Knowing what they mean. More now than ever.
The gooey parts. And the realistic ones.
For hopefully many more decades.
(if you want to know why this video seems so the opposite of high quality filming... http://idontbelieveingrammar.blogspot.com/2010/07/nine-years-in-making-plus-special.html
or why I married him .... http://idontbelieveingrammar.blogspot.com/2010/10/really-cheap-birthday-present.html)