or at least this.
I figured maybe I’d get something like this…
or go someplace like this.
I thought I’d enjoy this…
and organize like this.
the baby boy I didn’t know I needed…
and a love that no house could ever contain.
I’m at the kitchen window noticing that the back siding needs pressure washing again. Our deck furniture could use some TLC and it’s time to attend a little more to the potted herbs that are hardy despite neglect.
It occurs to me that a house needs maintaining to be a home and a marriage needs tending to be a love story.
I love my love story.
But I don’t always tend it well.
This week marks ten years for us, and in ten years our life looks so different than I ever thought it would.
The boy I met at the end of the aisle in the church where we first worshiped together is now the man who pulls weeds and plants tomatoes and balances budgets that are not ours. The girl who walked that aisle clutching her daddy’s arm is now the woman who writes hoping her words really matter while the pizza dough rises slowly in the kitchen and the babies nap late in the afternoon.
Nearly twelve years ago, he brought me cough drops and sat in a cold light booth and listened for my cues while our friends played out Chekhov’s The Seagull on the stage below. Then he bought me roses because everyone always forgets the stage manager and went to IHOP with me at midnight to eat pancakes and omelets and listen to me talk about my life in hopes and dreams.
Now years later he remembers those early dreams and he works hard to make them my reality someday. I surf Facebook and tell him about those friends of ours who walked alongside our first days of romance. Many of them married girls and boys from that same stage. Last week I posted congrats when two of them became parents for the first time. Saturday night we had dinner with my college roommate and we sighed over where the years have already gone.
They’ve gone into late nights rocking children or curled on the couch with only each other and a dvd. I find them in three different homes and six different jobs and in photographs that mark time with haircuts and baby weight. They are packed in boxes we don’t have room for, jotted in a journal in my nightstand, sent into space with this blog.
Ten years is a lot of memories, a lot of past. But it’s a lot of future, too.
Especially when tended carefully.
Look for lots of marriage posts this week. We celebrate ten years on July 20. If you’re stopping by, drop me a line and let me know how you tend your relationships, and if you are one of our sweet friends who were there for the beginning, feel free to share a memory.
Today my little man is ten weeks old.
Today he weighs nearly twelve pounds.
Today he is four inches longer than he was ten weeks ago.
Today I will put away another round of onesies and sleepers that are already too small and I will begin pulling tags off shorts and shirts that once seemed impossibly too big.
Today he has been happy, gurgling and cooing with friends at Chic-Fil-A and offering up smiles to anyone who smiles first at him.
Today we had to buy a third round of batteries for the swing because it’s the only place he can really sleep.
Today is another day in which I will tell myself that it’s okay he only sleeps in the swing and remind myself that the alternative is constant crying, choking, and spit up in his hair because it all comes up when he’s lying flat and asleep.
Today I am going to try to remember all three doses of Zantac to help his reflux, although the good news is, even just two doses a day helps tremendously.
Today I will tell myself again that my emotions during my pregnancy didn’t cause his reflux or his lactose intolerance and that other than those little nuisances, he is a perfect baby.
Today when I cuddle him close and watch him fold his hands in sleep I will take just a moment to give him back to the ever loving Father who gave him to me.
It’s amazing what can happen in a month. This time a month ago I was writing out the blues and sure I’d never make it through my first summer with four kids.
Now it’s July and summer has only five weeks left before it’s second grade homework and preschool drop-off and soccer season again.
Miscellany Monday over at lowercase letters is the perfect comeback for this run-ragged mama whose blessings overflow like laundry after a three day hiatus.
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| Girls breaking it down during the dance routine they learned at camp. |
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| Amelia always has the best seat in the house. |
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| Gus and all the men in his life. |
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| This was preceded by an indignant, “Daddy spanked me!” |
Also, I’m going to be accepting some guest posts and hopefully starting some giveaways, so let me know if you’d like to be part of that. I’m doing all this because what began as a simple way to get me writing and keep my family updated has grown. Weekly you all are kind enough to tell me how my words touch you and I’m hoping that through these efforts I’ll be reaching more moms who might need a word of encouragement.
In the spirit of keeping it real, I’ll tell you that I’m also hoping this will generate some extra income for our family. For too long I’ve talked about writing as a far-off dream, but the reality is I quit teaching to stay home and pursue this dream, so it’s time I start making it a priority. Again, any advice you have on how I can get my work out there more is appreciated.
