It was our 19th anniversary on Monday, so Andrew and I went out to do something fun, just the two of us. That hardly ever happens! Even for anniversaries!
The older four kids went to see Wicked with Grandpa and Darla a couple of weeks ago, and we also wanted to go, so we decided to go see that. A friend had invited me to watch it with her on Tuesday because she had an extra ticket...but Andrew had to go into campus and I didn't feel great about making the girls babysit two nights in a row...so instead Rachel and Miriam went with this friends' family (because they're friends with her oldest daughter). It worked out well.
Anyway, Andrew and I went to watch Wicked. It was my first time in a theater in six years, as far as I can figure. The seats were fancy reclining seats, which was bad news for my perpetual state of exhaustion (I could not stay awake through Dancing Through Life, of all numbers to feel drowsy during), but the theater was freezing and made me long to be at home, curled up on my own couch with a warm, fuzzy blanket.
But it was nice to go out and not have to worry about anyone else's needs for a little while.
When we got home, the kids were all gathered around the table decorating cookies together. They rushed to meet us at the door with their cookies in hand. It was nice to be greeted with such enthusiasm.
Here's Phoebe and Rachel's corner:
Here's Zoë and Benjamin:
Here's Alexander:
And Miriam:
And here's Andrew laughing because he decorated a cookie and then instead of putting it on the tray he...took a big bite of it...and said with great shock, "Oh, no! What am I doing?! It went the wrong way! I meant to put it down!"
He ate that cookie...
Phoebe ate all the cookies she decorated. In the middle of eating (I think) her third cookie, she announced to me that she had a "Llama, llama, tummy ache," quoting from the Llama Llama Christmas book, wherein Llama eats too many cookies and gets a tummy ache. I told her she had the option to stop eating cookies and she said, "No, thanks!" and kept on eating.
Today Phoebe's greatest wish was to go to the park. She ran into my room in the morning, and announced that she'd slept in her own bed (which was the truth!) so that Mommy would feel better in the morning (and I did! She's been really clingy at nights, sleeping basically on my head with her hands all twirled up in my hair...and...it isn't the best way for me to sleep, oddly). When I thanked her for staying in her own bed because that did help me feel better in the morning, she asked if she could go to the park.
We're in a bit of a warm spell right now, so I told her we could go to the park if we could get some work done in the morning, so she ran around making sure all her siblings were up and demanded that they do their "math work." She's such a good helper.
Zoë wanted me to write a blog post entitled "hanging out at the park" with this picture as the cover image:
But I told her she'd have to write her own post about that. And perhaps she will.
But that's what we did—we hung out at the park, went for a little walk, and did a whole lot of climbing.
Alexander was a very...determined...young man on the playground today:
Phoebe conquered a number of climbing apparatuses as well:
I had to get back home for a meeting later in the afternoon, and Rachel and Miriam left while I was still in my meeting (so it was probably a good thing I sent them in my place). Benjamin made a lovely dinner of pasta and sauce, and then we went to The Forum to see the Christmas display there and play on the playground.
It's hard to believe we've spent 19 years together—not because the years have been hard, but because they haven't been. And I think we're rather lucky for that (while I feel it's something that we've worked hard to cultivate together as well). That also isn't to say that we haven't gone through hard times, because we've endured some hard things (e.g. loss of a parent, moving approximately 34,239 mi around the world, years of graduate school and underemployment), but all of those hard things have just felt like part of one grand adventure that we're lucky enough to be on together. The grief has been sacred, the joy has been surreal, and the humdrum everydayness of it all has been comfortable—cozy, really.
It was nice to celebrate all of that.
To Andrew—who makes me laugh, who works hard, who is my biggest cheerleader, who bakes divine bread and cookies, who makes most of our yummy family meals, who exercises daily, who is the default driver, who tutors the kids in math because I don't have any clue about stats or parabolas, who handles the financials and as many matters of insurance as he possibly can, who has held my hand in labour, who never begrudges a nap, who makes beautiful music, who teaches with love and gentleness, who is the catcher of cockroaches, who always jumps in to deal with vomit, who prays with our family daily, who believes in traditions and making things fun—thank you!
*****
Darla joked that Andrew and I were getting old, since we're quickly approaching the point of having been married for 50% of our lives (next year for me).
"Oh, we're not old yet!" I said. "We just got married young!"
Thanks for growing up with me, Andrew!
We can get old later.
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