So I’m a bit late on this one. Between work, Frank’s travel schedule and, oh yeah, TWINS (BAM! I played the twins card!), I didn’t have time on 9/19 to write a gushy, mushy post about the amazing love affair that is our marriage. Our marriage turned nine years old on 9/19.
But Frank, my awesome, amazing, excellent husband DID send me flowers at work and DID write a sweet note to go with the flowers about he’d do it all again – exactly.the.same.
As sappy and mushy as that sentiment seems to be, I couldn’t agree more.
Sure, we’ve had lots of warm, cozy, snuggly, and, dare I say, schmoopie moments over the course of the last nine years of togetherness-foreverness. But we’ve also had plenty of times where the statement, “I will be with you until the END OF TIME” could’ve been construed as both a promise and a threat.
Like, you know, how long is it until the END OF TIME? Is it time on this particular reality, or does that pass on to the next life?
You gotta really get these fine points ironed out, ya know?
So it’s been nine years. Good, bad, awesome and ugly.
There was the time when we had an epic fight via text message over how Frank lost all of our little spoons. He still hasn’t admitted to losing said spoons, but we all know the truth.
There was a time in the middle of the last nine years when the greatest tragedy that had befallen us to that point was the loss of ALL of our freshly put down grass seed. An absolutely horrific rainstorm flushed about a THOUSAND dollars worth of seed down the Milwaukee County sewer system. I like to think that there is a beautiful green field at the end of that pipe, and that we had something to do with it. Sometimes I’m a little too optimistic. I digress.
Not to worry, time taught us that grass seed was small potatoes in the scheme of things.
My dad was sick. Frank lost his job not once, but twice in the same year. We moved. I changed industries.
It was hard. And messy. And gross.
What we did with those hard, messy and gross times is our story. We stuck together. Frank and Emily VS. Crappy Stuff. Frank and I have outlasted all of those other temporary, crappy situations.
Frank and Emily: 9, Crappy Stuff: 0.
I know, kinda sounds like a downer. But it’s not. It’s honest. I’ve been thinking a lot about the face we present to the world. It’s important to both Frank and I to be on our A-Game as often as possible. To not dwell on the negative. To stay positive and happy and forward-facing. We know we’re pretty darned blessed, no matter the circumstances.
The best part of the past nine years wasn’t all the times we made it to church on time or all the times that our kids looked cute and put-together in pictures. The best part of the past nine years was going on this outrageous adventure together. Loving and laughing and crying and arguing as a team, a partnership and a family.
That. Is. Life.
So when Frank says to me that he would do this whole crazy thing over again, and do it all exactly the same, that means more to me than anything else he could’ve said via a Hallmark greeting card. That is true love.
And, babe, I agree.
Happy ninth anniversary. TM, A.