16 years. Our marriage can get its' driver's license!

A few weeks ago, Aleks walked in the door from a long day at work and into chaos. I had finished teaching, was cleaning out backpacks and lunch boxes, trying to get a handle on how the girls were doing, make sure the homework was finished, convince Maia to practice piano, and get dinner on the table.

Ruby was having a crises of some sort; it could have been about stresses at school or just that her shoes didn't feel right, really, either is feasible.

So Aleks walked in to this mess and without missing a beat, sat down and said "Ruby, I'd really like to help you figure this out. What can I do?"

That patience and kindness was the thing that hooked me when we first met in college almost 2 decades ago. And over the last 16 years, Aleks' best qaulities have just deepened and expanded into something beyond what I could have ever imagined.

I thought what I was getting from 22 year old Aleks was pretty good.

The gift that is my husband is so much more than I deserve.

16 years ago we moved into our first apartment.

Which had the infamous "shath" or "bower." The bathroom was built into the eave of the house and so stading in the shower was impossible. Also, any time the toilet ran, which it did about every 5 minutes, the water would turn into boiling, scalding torture.

Look at that cell phone on the kitchen counter. This was before Facebook and the iphone as we know it now.

He's still got those Chuck Taylors.

Marriage is a trip. I definitely don't have it all figured out, but I'm grateful to have a patient, honest man with me on the journey.

Look at those babies.

 Lucky. Grateful. Proud.

Happy anniversary Aleks. 

Here's to so many more years of adventure, laughter, and growth.

15 years!

I'm sure most of the people at our wedding thought we were too young to be getting married. Some family members and friends had told us their opinions outright. Some kept it to themselves. But there were also a few in attendance who believed that we knew what we were doing.

I remember crying as I walked down the aisle (and throughout my vows), not because I was sad or anxious, but instead, overcome with the magnitude of it all. As a result, there are no pictures of me in that moment. I'm not a pretty crier.

I remember an epic toast by my maid of honor Erin who, perfectly balancing humor and love, convinced a few of those doubters that we'd be ok.

(my dad married us *inset heart eyes emoji*)

As my college roommate for 3 years, Erin and I knew each other in ways only roommates can know one another. In particular, and lucky for her, she was aware of my self-diagnosed disorder: P.F.A., otherwise known as Public Farting Anxiety. I refuse to pass gas in front of other people, to the point of causing myself discomfort.

As Erin shared my disorder at our reception with our closest friends and family, she went on to tell about a night I returned home from a date with Aleks. I came into her room and said, "I think he's the one. I farted in front of Aleks tonight."

And here we are, celebrating 15 years of marriage.

Aleks, you're still my favorite person. I hold you in highest esteem, respect you and your opinion, and am constantly overwhelmed by the way you father our children. Actually, I'm not sure we knew what we were doing 15 years ago, because I didn't love you a fraction of what I do now.

There is no better partner for me.

Thank you for being the kind of man who encourages me to let my farts out.

14 years

14 years looks like a kiss and a "happy anniversary"as he heads to an all day conference and I get on a plane to Phoenix.

It means studying each other's schedules and choreographing the kid swapping and the bag packing that has to happen before each activity.

It looks like random texts throughout the day telling stories of our kids we forgot to share, or reminding one another the garbage needs to go out, or asking if the credit card bill got paid. And the occasional eggplant emoji text.

For us, it looks like fewer dates night, but increased quality of the time we are alone.

Year 14 has been a good one. Some years are easier than others. Year 13 was hard.

How grateful I am to be partnered with someone who doesn't back away from unhappiness, but instead leans into it and figures out how to make it better.

Aleks has changed a lot this year. I have too. We are simultaneously more independent of each other, yet more strongly bonded.

In this 14th year we've learned to listen to each other better and more deeply. The space surrounding our relationship feels more vibrant and energized.

We've worked really hard to build the life we have together. Undoubtedly it is the single thing of which I am most proud.

Each year life seems to become more complex with kids' ballooning schedules, career advances, and  increased household responsibilities. Yet, the one thing that is crystal clear is my partner; I see him and know him.

Happy anniversary, darling. I'm looking forward to the year ahead and all the adventures it will bring.

(Look at those babies!)

Thirteen

The traditional 13th anniversary gift is lace.

I've never been a big fan of lace. It seems so pretentious and busy. It makes a statement on any garment and is obnoxiously assertive. When I was searching for a wedding dress I made to sure to avoid all dresses that had lace.

Lace is fragile and transparent. When wearing lace, I often feel like it is mocking my solid frame: pointing out my inability to rise to the daintiness and elegance of its delicate construction.

My wedding dress was somewhat simple, adorned with a little embroidery and beading. After 13 years of marriage there is still not much lace in my wardrobe.

This year, more than ever, marks a change for Aleks and I. It seems we've entered a new season in our marriage. Both our kids are in school all day. For the first time since we've been married, we no longer work at the same place. We've been settled in the same city and house for 5 1/2 years, the longest stretch thus far.

For so long, we've been pushing, pushing, pushing to survive. Getting jobs, enduring the trenches of parenthood with kids who are 17 months apart, applying for tenure, the list goes on. And while we are still moving forward and working toward the next upward step, our lives now have some white space.

White space is a metaphor used in businesses about opportunity. In our marriage, this white space means we suddenly have time and energy to see each other clearly without the immediate stresses of financial strain and young children. We see opportunities to redefine our relationship and to question the habitual way we communicate with each other. Inevitably we are confronted with the people we have become over the past 13 years. And because we are different people now, how we fit together is affected.

You'd think after 13 years together, marriage would get easier.

Don't get me wrong, some things are way easier. Like grocery shopping together. I remember in the first year of marriage, the majority of our fights would take place in the grocery store or immediately after a shopping trip. Managing a house together is easier. Asking for help is easier.

Strangely enough, saying what we want seems to be more difficult for us both.

I'm learning that being uncomfortable leads to change. I'm so lucky and grateful to be partnered with someone who wants to become a better version of himself. When things get uncomfortable, Aleks is willing to lean into that discomfort and figure out the root of the problem. He doesn't turn away, which is the safe and easy thing to do.

We choose every day to be better, as individuals and together.

When I think of lace, I picture the intricate details of fabric that are connected by strands and when I think of it that way, it seems frivolous and unnecessary. But, if I think of the spaces, the empty places, where something was taken away, what is left seems extraordinary. And those small connecting strands are no longer fussy, but essential to the entire structure and beauty.

Our marriage started out as a blank sheet. Over the past thirteen years we've put holes into that sheet. Sometimes on purpose, with adjustments in communication and purposeful interactions. Sometimes it has happened accidentally with a harsh word or thoughtless remarks. When I step back, I don't see a damaged product. Rather, I see something beautiful emerging; the holes have left intricate patterns, and the strands holding them are indestructible.

Maybe lace for the 13th year is more appropriate than I thought.

Happy anniversary my darling. Endlessly grateful you are my partner and excited for what life has in store for us next.

 (Not quite 13 years ago, but almost)

It's a good start

You'd think after being married to someone for 11 years, you'd be able to go on autopilot once in awhile.

Eleven feels like such an accomplishment. It says, "we're not messing around!" It demands a pat on the back and a parade.

However, my wise father put things into perspective for me when he causally mentioned, "it's a good start."

He's totally right. Eleven years out of fifty or sixty is just the beginning. And yet, it's still an accomplishment.

At times I feel like we're standing next to each other, watching as the bullets of divorce or sickness or infertility or financial stress claim and injure the people we know.

It makes me want to cling tighter, look inward, and put up the defenses against whatever might try and tear us apart. Because, we're not anything special, we don't have secret insight into what makes a long term relationship work. All I can do is be sure I'm doing my part.

These eleven years of marriage have taught me that:
1. being kind and loving trumps all
2. listening is a highly underrated skill and so very important
3. laughter is the best medicine and nourishment for my marriage
4. there is no place for judgmental thoughts or feelings
5. daily sacrifices are necessary and while it's difficult, the benefits are life-giving

It's no surprise that things change in 11 years. There are three distinct grey hairs on Aleks' chin now. I've got more wrinkles around my eyes. We have less, yet also more patience for each other. The stakes are higher: kids, a house, a dog (a dog!), more pressure in our careers, but it's these things that keep up tethered to each other and motivating us to be better people and spouses.

I'm really happy that Aleks still likes me because I really like him. Heaven knows there are reasons he could have left long ago.

He's the yin to my yang. The air in my tires. The bacon in my twice baked potatoes. He makes my life infinitely better. I'm grateful to be on this journey together.

Happy anniversary darling.

Life is complicated

This afternoon Aleks and I are leaving for Chicago to celebrate our anniversary. On Saturday we'll have been married for eleven years.
Because I have THE BEST mother-in-law, we are leaving the kids at home.
Which also means, I've almost killed myself getting everything ready so that I can (hopefully) re-enter life on Sunday relatively pain free.

I'm desperate to get away. I've needed a kid free vacation for awhile and I might just lay in bed at the hotel for 2 1/2 days and watch TV.

And yet, I'm so sad about leaving the girls. I know they will be fine and have a wonderful time with Nana, and yet, I'm a mess.

Ruby is really the one I worry about. She is so sensitive and the one who feels differences in schedules and atmosphere the most. This morning she was awake at 5, wanting to sleep in our bed. I think I told her no, it's all a bleary haze. When I went into her room later this morning, I saw this.

I came downstairs and said "Ruby, what do we draw on with crayons?" and right as she was answering "paper" I saw the little lightbulb go off, she knew I knew she had drawn all over her walls.

Maia never did anything like this, but I think its because she just didn't think of it. It's hard for me to be mad. I'm actually tickled that she's being creative and expressing herself this way. It's just crayon, anyway, and I'm going to paint the whole house this year. (Don't tell Aleks)

Not an hour later I saw this thumbprint in some softened butter.

Ruby denied it at first, but after being assured she would not get in trouble, confessed.

Then I had masters swim this morning and Ruby just did not want to go to the kid's zone. I'm sure she's feeling a bit of anxiety about us leaving and it breaks my heart and frustrates me because there is stuff I need to get done and at the same time I know that I ask a lot of my kids and they are so good about being flexible and going with the flow.

So now, Aleks and I are at the airport, waiting for our delayed flight and thankfully, I'm already starting to feel the stress dissipate. I'm not going to lie, I did shed a few tears in the car.

Last night a good friend told me just what I needed to hear, "they will miss you and will be so excited to see you when you come back. AND you'll be an even better mama then because you spent some quality time with your hubby... everything involves sacrifice, even the good stuff!"

So, I'm banishing my guilt and an jumping all into this gift of a weekend I've been given.

See ya'll on the other side! (Also, I'm sure my IG account will be full of anniversary pics, so check in there if you're interested.)