To the Man I Have Loved for Five years, Because I Don't Tell You Enough

When we first got together my now husband and I would lay in bed for hours and talk about everything in life. So long that we would fall asleep just before he had to wake to leave for work. Back then titles were scary. We both had just left relationships behind and were taking a chance on something that we feared may not work. Five years later, though, I am still certain that our path's were met by fate. I was and still am persistent and a controlling perfectionist. I walk into a room with a loud entrance and sometimes I am more stubborn than I like to admit. Somehow, the laid-back, quiet, caring and gentle man that I thought only existed in my dreams fell in love with me. He always said that celebrating anniversaries was senseless until there was a wedding anniversary to rejoice about each year. And mostly, our relationship has been timeless, even now, almost two years after our wedding day. Recently, though, it dawned on me that five years has come and gone in the blink of an eye. I never had an exact date embedded into my memory of when it all began, but I do know that it was during the remnant's of winter. It seems impossible, really. Some days, I still feel like a little school girl when we're together. My heart palpitates and my stomach spasms like it would if I were on a roller coaster. 

Since realizing that I have been happily in love for five incredible years, my thoughts have gradually traveled down memory lane, generously reminding me of how lucky I really am. Sadly though, as a busy life would have it, these reminders are rarely spoken out loud and instead, quick hello's are exchanged at the end of a long day along with a wealth of chaos standing between a much needed trade of love and affection. 

So, to the man who I still find myself drooling over, even on our worst days, you are the best thing in my life. And for the record, by worst days, I mean the days that life consumes us and we forget that somewhere in the midst of it all, our relationship really does exist. You may not realize it, because I innocently do not tell you enough, but I see you. I feel you, I feel for you , and I want you, every single day. 

I listen to you, you know. In the middle of the night when you and the rest of the house are sound asleep. I listen to your light snores as I lay in bed, restless and in love. I reach for you and hold onto you in that moment. The arm that I gently wrap around you moves with your chest as you breathe. And in that moment I am blissfully aware of the incredible life that we lead.   

I also watch you intently as you do something you love. You probably aren't aware of my eyes that are locked on your every move when you connect a paint brush to a canvas or when you swing your hockey stick and puck into a much anticipated goal. I watched you the other day when you dragged me to work with you to finish up one last thing. I sat in the car with the slobbery, panting dog and overly antsy child of ours. I watched you work and then again when you walked proudly back to your family waiting for you in the car. It's moments like that make my heart feel full of love. I don't tell you enough how grateful I am for your hard work everyday to support our family. You don't hear enough that you are the most selfless and hard working man I know. 

I haven't told you in awhile that my heart races on the rare occasion that we get to spend a date night together, just like old times. Even in the middle of the most mundane of days, the thought or sight of you increases the contractions of my heart. Seeing your name across the screen of my phone instantly puts a smile on my face. My stomach spasms when I watch you play with our daughter. And then again when she throws herself at you and wraps her tiny little arms around your waist. Your laugh is contagious and your smile can brighten any room. I prefer to smell your cologne over fresh laundry detergent any day and I am more than grateful for your unlimited talent in taking on all of the projects around the house that I relentlessly force you into. You are way too humble to admit it, but I'd say your skills are just as good, if not better, than Chip Gaines. Maybe you didn't know this, but I really do pay attention to what you say. When you text me in the middle of the day with a "sigh, I might as well go eat worms" because I haven't been paying attention to you, my heart bursts with love. Because you always want me, and only me. 

I know I don't say it enough, but as promised, I love you today more than I did yesterday. Five years has ultimately felt like a few short months, but I think that's the way it's supposed to be when your happy and in love. This journey has been quite adventurous and I expect that the next five years will trump the last. So, because I don't tell you enough, thank you for being you and all that you do. Five years seems like quite the milestone now, but I imagine in ten years my heart will be twice as big. 

My handsome husband, you drive me beyond the brink of wild and I love you more than you'll ever really know. 

Photo Credit: M.Tingley Photography

Serenity in Guilt and Chaos

Chaos is a constant distraction in our home. While we are parents to just one busy seven year old, we also parent and house a large dog with a humane personality along with an overweight cat who both don't have quite enough room to chase each other around in. You might wonder how a family of three, or rather 5 in our world, could possibly know and understand the true meaning of chaos but friends let me tell you, we've earned the name 'crazy house' for good reason and most days I see the insane asylum lurking in my future. Chaos can be fun and remedial for the humor and adventure seeking soul and that soul is me; most days. But then there are other days when my thoughts take me to another place. When the chaos becomes a burden on top of my frail shoulders. When the noise becomes deafening and the thought of being locked away in a padded room seems more like a blissful vacation rather than a feeling of entrapment. Let me explain.

The door latched on the wall that separates the bathroom from exposure never actually shuts when it becomes occupied. Maybe for the other two occupants of the home, but never for me. There was a time when the door would latch into place on the other side of the doorframe as soon as I would enter the bathroom. And almost instantly, the click of the latch led to shouts from the other side of the door from my child who suddenly had interest in how my day went or from my husband who suddenly forgot which cupboard the Tupperware is stored in. And then there was the furry paw from the oversized feline that would feel his way underneath the doorframe. And of course there was large rear end of our human like dog pushing herself against the door thinking that might actually cause the door to fly open just so that I remained in her sight.

Taking a shower in peace or brushing my teeth in silence have become a past time; a time before I had a child or husband. Usually, my shower time is the same time my daughter realizes she needs something. My dinner is usually cold by the time I have sat down to eat it because my daughter decided she wanted a fork instead of a spoon, her napkin dropped on the floor or my husband needs a refill. When I walk in the door after a long day at work, the golden doodle we call our second daughter cues this as play time. And so the never ending, circle chasing, tail biting and eye pawing between the cat and dog continues until we shut that second daughter of ours upstairs with us for bed. We race to make it to soccer at 10, an event at 1 and then all the way across town to the basketball game at 4, all in one day. Racing against time is a constant in our home. Like, for whatever reason, I think I have time to clean the bathroom 15 minutes before I need to be somewhere. That's my husband's favorite. But don't let the impatient guy that is huffing and puffing while standing at the front door as he waits for his unrelenting wife fool you. He's been known to hold us up in a time of chaos for reasons more than one. But he won't ever admit to that, so that leads to a comical argument in the front seat of the car about who was right and who was wrong. (I promise it's all in good fun)

So one day I had had enough. Enough of the chaos. My husband wasn't home so it was just my daughter and I. Lets not forget the circus that was playing a game of chase. I declared to my daughter that I was going to brush my teeth and wash the day's makeup away with the bathroom door closed, and that I would help her get ready for bed when I came out. This was my desperate attempt to shut the world out for just five minutes. The door shut and so began my daughter's attempted conversation through the sturdy piece of wood that was separating us. So began the game of chase upstairs that, for whatever reason, caused constant and lurid banging on that sturdy piece of wood that was separating me from the chaos. And then I hear a knock at the door as I had a mouthful of toothpaste. My husband was home and was asking if I was OK. And then, my sensitive soul of a child reciprocated and softly asked if she could come in yet. There I was fighting back tears partly because I didn't get that moment of peace that I desired so badly, but mostly because I felt guilty for hiding from my family.

The feeling of guilt is long lasting and mind consuming. Guilt consumes me when I walk out the door to head to the grocery store without my child in hand or husband following behind. (Yes, friends, my husband enjoys going shopping with me.) Guilt eats at me when I ask said husband to replace the requested spoon with the fork for our insistent daughter, even though I know he happily obliges. Guilt persists when I raise my voice at the dog and cat playing the game of chase because I crave a moment of silence and then again when anxiousness shows in my voice when time is against us. Guilt brings me to tears when my family doesn't understand why I have shut them out, even for just a few minutes.

Does this sound close to home? I have to admit, I feel a little melodramatic after sharing stories of chaos with my closest friend who raises three children while maintaining a marriage and two pets of her own. And I know there are others who are in a much greater state of chaos and who carry a heavier weight of guilt than I, but as parents we are all equals. At one time or another we have all shared the same fears and burdens. I'm just here to tell you that I am not coping with life's chaos any better than you are nor am I feeling any less guilty than you for my sometimes ill-temper, my lack of attentiveness during my attempts in gaining a moment of peace or for making my daughter late for soccer because I decided to clean the bathroom before we left. I have pitfalls just like you and sometimes in a state of chaos I don't recognize my own face in the mirror.

Mom's and dad's, I just want you to know that while you are over there agonizing over the way you recently handled your own state of chaos, I am also feeling remorseful for the way I reacted to my daughters last minute announcement that she needed a slip to participate in some event at school. Friends, I threw that slip away two weeks prior hoping that she would forget and my ill-temper was a result of my own guilt for disposing of it. I felt so guilty that I filled that slip out online and donated $20 to this event just so that she could get some puppy necklace in return. And rest assured,  tomorrow we will rush to get my car to the dealership after my daughters basketball game and go back and forth about what we want for dinner in front of our waitress, but only after we bicker about what restaurant we will actually go to in the first place. I will feel guilty for ordering my husband to speed up the car on the way to the dealership and will likely feel overwhelmed with the chaos of the day, but I can promise we will laugh about it on the car ride home.

I don't have any idea on how to achieve an absence of guilt and I dare say that it's likely impossible. And chaos is just inevitable as we venture each day in life. What I can tell you is that chaos can be fun if you choose to find humor in those moments. I can also tell you that guilt can bring great relief once you throw it away and change what brought you there to begin with - but only until the next chaotic moment brings you right back there again. For me, I guess I would rather feel a moment of guilt after shutting myself out from the world to gain my sanity again. And if it wasn't for the chaos, I certainly wouldn't have story to tell or a memory to laugh at.

Until next time, enjoy the chaos.