Skip to main content

4018 days

Which is also 347,155,200 seconds or 5,785,920 minutes or 96,432 hours or 574 weeks or 11 years.

I'll be the first to admit that I am somewhat naive in the ways of the world. After 11 years of marriage (as of today!) that hasn't changed much although some other things have, like my waistline.

I am sometimes surprised that Eric has stuck with me after all this time. I can be really annoying, clingy, angry, picky, loud, and mean. Eric has, at times, called me a shrew. A word of advice to all the men out there, even the single ones: don't call a woman a shrew. After expressing my extreme dislike of this term, he did stop using that particular nickname. Some of the other nicknames Eric uses for me: woman (I don't like this one much), mommacita, Sarity, girlfriend (not a fan of this one either), barge (there's a story behind this one which makes it slightly more acceptable than it seems, but I don't like it much either), Jeanette, Tamykins (after my WoW character), dear, and (my favorite) Biscuit.

Eric has also done some really wonderful things over the last 11 years. He rarely complains about the copious amounts of money it takes to visit New Mexico, he buys me Dove Bars on a regular basis, he rarely complains when I go shopping and buy silly things, he let me set up the girl cave in the computer room, he let me pick paint colors and even pretended to listen while I debated the colors. He wrestles on the floor with the kids, lets me sleep in, ignores my crazy moments and tells me I'm abnormal in a normal way. He encourages me to write even though most of my scribblings take place in the dead of night in our bedroom while he is trying to sleep. He lets me have the remote control and he even watches girly shows with me on occasion. He lets me pick the movies and the places to eat dinner, he takes the kids swimming and lets me stay home. He gave in when I wanted to have a baby only 3 months in to our marriage and he stuck with it when Carly's adoption seemed like the wall we could never get over. He is an honest-to-goodness good guy. Sure, he has a quick temper but it fizzles fast. He locks his emotions up tightly and then explodes at random. But heck, if he was perfect he'd be driven insane by my non-perfectness.

I don't pretend to have a perfect marriage or to know the "secret" to staying connected. It takes work, it takes patience, it is a choice every day to put us first. I am not good at it, I have made mistakes and will make more. I have put him second -- or third, or forth....but at the end of the day I can think of nothing in the world more valuable than my marriage and family.
After 11 years I can still look at Eric and say I am grateful for the momma's boy, Italian, intense, emotional wall of a man I married. What else is there?

I had a dream of a Prince so fair
With golden sunbeams in his hair.
Lithe of laugh and light of feet,
The best of men should hope to meet.
Smooth of tongue and full of grace
Angels kissed his handsome face.

When I awoke, the Prince was gone
And there beside me, snoring on...and on,
Was a simple man, with edges rough
A quick temper and manner gruff.
And as he noisily slumbered there
I watched him and simply did not care.

Instead of a prince I had a man
Who loved me just the way I am.
Who rough and tumbles on the floor
To see my children smile some more.
For a lofty prince I would not trade
The Eric that for me was made.


p.s. Eric says to me while I am writing this: "I'm going to make a blog so I can write things about you." I guess he doesn't think I am being nice. Oh, he'll be sorry when he reads it!

Comments

Heather said…
Very sweet... Happy Anniversary!
Lacey said…
Happy Anniversary!

And I LOVE your new layout!
Anonymous said…
You left of one Erics most supernal talents: his rousing rendition of "The Love Boat" :)
We are all grateful that he is part of our family!

Popular posts from this blog

Dear Carly,

I assume that one day you will come to me wanting to know who you are, where you came from, where your other family is and why they gave you to us.  I offer you little bits of information already, but certainly not crumbs enough to satisfy the appetite.  Perhaps it won't matter to you.  I am assuming a lot, already, about how adoption will impact your life.

People often wonder why adoptive parents are hurt when their children seek out biological roots.  I have the answer, and it's very simple.  Adoption - at its core - makes us question the legality, authority, voracity, and validity of parenthood.  For most adoptive parents, first you must come to terms with an issue that strikes at the foundations of mortality: fertility.  From birth, most of us are driven to form families.  First we are nestlings, nurtured and weened and eventually taught to fly.  Then we are nest-builders, filling our lives with the stuff necessary to drive life forward.  Knowledge, safety, money, a sturdy …

On being away from home and turning sixteen: a letter to my son

Dear Josh,

I missed your sixteenth birthday.  I'm sure you recall - or maybe it wasn't so bad because you spent the whole day with your friend watching movies.  Godzilla and Guardians of the Galaxy, you've said.  It's no surprise to me that Godzilla was your favorite of the two.  That atomic green monster holds a special place in your heart.

It was very difficult for me to be away from you when you crossed this threshold in your life.  I remember turning sixteen, being sixteen, and wondering when I would feel like I was actually sixteen.  When I was sixteen, I went and found my first job, I started driving myself around, and I pretty much felt like I was in the wrong skin.  I'm only now, at 37, beginning to feel in the right skin.  Or at least comfortable with the skin I'm in.  But you - well, you don't seem to have a problem being you.  I can't explain how very happy that makes me feel, how very reassured.  Because it can be really hard not to like you…

Dear Carly (on your 9th birthday),

I can't remember what it is like to turn nine years old.  From watching you turn nine, it must have been difficult because it seems like everything is either really, really greator really, really bad.  Some days I think I might get whiplash from the mood swings (and you're not a teenager yet!).   But overall, I think nine must also be really wonderful.  You seem to be full of joy, even moments after being full of woe.  It's as if the joy just pushes the other stuff out.  It practically oozes from your pores.  More than that, on the days you choose to be happy, the whole world sings with you.  People are infected by it, drawn in to your sweet smile and shining eyes.  Attracted like bugs to a light.  You shine, dear little diva, so brightly sometimes it's blinding.

We just spent three weeks together in California, and I must have complained too much about your behavior because your dad believes we are oil and water right now.  I'd prefer to see us as oil and vinegar …