Five Short Years

Yesterday was my wedding anniversary. I married my husband five years ago but our tenure together is in its twelfth year. And we both forgot. Ahead of time. We neglected to catch the freedom that would have been a day to ourselves with the wee one in school. OOPS! So for our anniversary hubby worked and I slipped out for a quick haircut.

We have never really celebrated our wedding anniversary. Perhaps it is because we didn’t have the wedding we wanted to have. Instead we often celebrate the day we met. Too us that is the most important day of our lives. Without that day there would be no us to even get married.

I never wanted a big wedding. I didn’t even want the white dress and all that. But I would have liked something a little more than it was. Oh well. One day we will have that big shindig. I had hoped we would be able to do something for our fifth anniversary (this year) but that was not to be. Bigger fish to fry. Like our little guy going off to school. And that is sooo much cooler. But you can’t blame a gal for wanting to celebrate the fact that she’s married to someone she thinks is pretty awesome…right?

And I do. Think he’s pretty awesome.

Big Joe

My husband’s name is not Joe. His middle name is Joseph. His father was named Joseph, however, because his father (hubby’s grandfather) was also Joseph he went by his middle name Reg. Anyways. I cannot remember exactly how it all came about but many, many years ago my husband took to calling me Reba. He said, and I agree, that Rebecca sounds really formal. I always felt like I was in trouble when my proper name was used. My family typically calls me Becca. But hubby didn’t care for that. So, Reba it was and still is…I even called my little business Reba’s Art & Artsy Edibles.

Anyways, a few months or so after the whole Reba thing happened I realized he needed a nickname of equal grandeur. So. Big Joe it was!

And it suits him. He’s big. Not burly big, but a foot taller than my short self. And a little burly-ish.

Gentle Giant

My husband has a screwface. When he is not smiling or expressing joy and pleasure, he looks very scowly and mean. But he is so far from that. He is one of the kindest, gentlest souls I have ever met. And his eyes. They have seen so much sorrow and sadness yet they are full of light. And hope.

He has a compassion and love for humankind I cannot begin to understand. Which is frustrating because I watch his heart break daily. He struggles to understand how we can all be so horrible to each other. It pains him to see the suffering in the world. And to see that pain reflected in those beautiful pools of blue pisses me off. But then again, I do not share his deep love for humankind.

And patience. Which could (and has been, usually by me) be mistaken for inaction. But he really does have patience. He has to. We all need some patience. It really does help you get through life. But he has the patience of a saint. Should I have been in his shoes and my partner had all the shit going on with them that I do, I am not sure I could carry on with similar grace. I am very lucky. And very loved.

When we had contact with my siblings, he was the favourite uncle to a boodle of nieces and nephews. I can remember a time we watched my older step-brothers two little girls. They desperately wanted their uncle to be a princess. Hubby was only too happy to oblige. But there was a problem. How were we going to get over six feet of man into a size 4T princess dress? It wasn’t looking good. Then they decided he should lay on the couch and they would drape him in princess apparel. It was absolutely priceless. And they were ecstatic. For someone who grew up an only child and with very little to do with small children (as both a young and proper adult), he was brilliant with the kids. They all adored him.

Seeing him with the kids made me wish he could be the father he always wanted to be. But we had been told that was not in the cards for us. The miscarriages confirmed it. Until the day we got the most unexpected news. And the decision was easy. Even if the road to get to it was hard. Treacherous even. But he was going to be a fantastic father. He is a fantastic father.

But I (well not me personally, that I means the general population) wouldn’t get on his bad side. Loyal, to a fault sometimes, he stands up for the ones he loves.

The Married Man

Big Joe didn’t change much after we got married. There really wasn’t much between us that could. We had been together over six years and living together nearly just as long. We had our ebb and flow. And it worked. Even when the little one came along.

I am not attempting to paint a picture of a perfect marriage. There is no such thing. Every pairing is different. What works for you and yours will not work for me and mine. Because we are not you. And vice versa.

We entered our marriage knowing that while that piece of paper does not necessarily alter the dynamics of the relationship it does effect the emotions involved. We discussed what it meant to each of us to be married
and how it might change our approach to the relationship. We both came from divorced families and wanted to make sure we at least talked out what we would do should things not work out. After all, we were getting married while we had a wee one the way.

Marriage is a lot of work. Anyone who tells you differently is full of shit. All relationships take work. They need attention. They need to be fostered. Tended. Nurtured. And all of that takes effort. If you are not willing to put that in you should just get out. And remember, honesty is always the best policy. Love is great. Love is grand. But love is not all there is.

Sometimes that love needs a little boost. And a dose of understanding.

Five Years

It is a David Bowie song. And the length of time we have been married. I cannot believe how the time has gone by. Though I have found that wee ones seem to increase the pace in which it passes.

He and I have both changed a lot during the twelve years we have been together. We have been through our shares of ups and downs. There have been health problems. Scares. Troubles. And there have been economic woes. Family issues. Strife. Together we have suffered loss and celebrated life. We have had unmatched successes and epic failures. But we have done it all together.

We have never taken a break. We have never broken up or separated. And I hope that we never do.

Our anniversary was not a complete bust. After the wee one went to bed we bit the bullet and ordered Chinese food. From a little place around the corner. And it was great. Not just the food. The company. The laughter. The conversation. The memories. And the wine pillow (see below). All of it.

Happy Anniversary Big Joe, I would do it all again in a heartbeat!

Here is Big Joe, demonstrating his creative genius.
Here is the Wine Pillow. Beer Pillow coming soon!

 

One thought on “Five Short Years

  1. Pingback: MOMMY-ING WITH MENTAL ILLNESS

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s