Seven Years In

As of today I have been married seven years, and I would marry my husband again tomorrow if it were possible.


Mainly because we need new stuff. 


I think that may actually be the source of the "seven year itch." You look around your house and realize the adorable cottage you bought and called your "love nest" is now is desperate need of painting and other repairs. You've broken most of the fancy wine glasses you got as wedding presents, and at least some of the china has chips. Your child(ren) have broken at least one thing you loved, but that is too expensive and impractical to replace. The hand towels are now being used as cleaning rags, and the bath towels that haven't been accidentally bleached just look worn. The chafing dish that an Aunt gave you is still in perfect condition though, mostly because you have never had a reason to "chafe." 


Then you look at your spouse. Like your towels they are worn as well. You both have likely put on some weight.  You've probably lost (or in the case of women, gained) some hair. There is no mystery about what goes on in the bathroom. Every bad habit has been exposed, every argument hashed out at least once, and every nerve has been frayed. If you don't have a strong marriage, I can see why some people would feel something needs to be "scratched." 


Luckily, I have a strong marriage. I can honestly say I love my husband as much, if not more than I did the day I married him, and I know for a fact I like him a lot more. Our friendship has gotten deeper over the years, mainly because the mystery has disappeared. Oh, and because we've never lost our senses of humor. Take last night for example: I was brining a chicken (I am very fancy) and it would not stay under the water. I asked Ryan what he thought I should do. 
      "Put a heavy bowl on top of it." I did, and it worked. 
      "See, that's why I married you," I said. 
      "Yep," he replied,"because I'm a problem solver, and you're a problem maker."


That never would have flown during year two.


I guess that's the trade off. While the shine wears off all of the presents that came with the wedding, over time the marriage itself becomes the gift. Such a gift, in fact, that I don't feel cheesy writing sentences like that one. I actually believe it to be true. Maybe that's what I'll use to comfort myself from now on every time an appliance breaks, or Meg floods the bathroom and ruins the rug, or we realize we need to repair a wall: "this is making my marriage stronger." 


Still, a new down comforter would be nice... 


Happy Anniversary, babe. 

Read more →

Immature Humor

My husband is ten and a half months younger than me. 


That's nothing. On the cosmic scale we are the exact same age. And when it comes to maturity? He is sooo much older than I am. 


Still, he will never let me forget those ten and a half months. 


Some of the time it's in sneaky ways. He will be talking about what he wants to do when he turns 40 (dive an iceberg), and then in the sweetest voice possible will say "well, we really should talk about what you want to do, since you turn 40 first." Other times it will be more direct. For instance he may tell someone that we just met "I am much, much younger than my wife." 


Then there are the times he is so stealthy about it I barely even notice it. 


We both have iPhones. We both have keep them in black cases, because we have a toddler who likes to drop things, and I got a deal on them. This has led to both of us accidentally taking the other one's phone while rushing out the door, which leaves him unable to check his schedule and me unable to easily check Twitter. You can see the problem. The solution we came up with? Stickers. Just glancing at the back of the phone lets us both know who's is who's. Ryan picked the stickers from the hoards that have taken over our house since Meg was born. This is mine:

This is his: 

Get it? 


Maybe I am older than him when it comes to maturity after all... 

Read more →

The "Secret"

People often ask me "Libby, what is the secret to a good marriage?"

I guess they figure that I have been married successfully for seven years, coupled successfully for more than a decade and am, after all, the Libby in Libby Logic. That's why they are probably shocked when I tell them I have no fucking idea what the secret to a good marriage is and they probably shouldn't be thinking about getting married if they think there is actually a "secret" to it. Then I ridicule them about probably still believing in fairies and ask them to talk to me when they stop drawing their initials in hearts on their Justin Bieber notebooks.

Sometimes, as they are they are walking away, crying, I do start to feel kinda bad. I do actually know the secret to a good marriage, and it's "marry Ryan." I don't want to share though.

There are so many reason I love Ryan. I love that he proudly wears a t-shirt that says "this is what a feminist looks like." I love that he helps me see the humor in the fact he loves the t-shirt with this picture too:

Normally, even considering buying that shirt would get a person killed.

I love that he comes in to "tag out" wrestler style when he hears frustration climbing into my voice when dealing with Meg. I love that when he is away from home on business he misses us so much it makes him think crazy thoughts like maybe he should become a beekeeper so he can be home more. I love that when I am going crazy about the whole infertility thing and how he probably wouldn't have married me if he had know about it upfront he says things like "I fell in love with you, not your uterus." I love the fact that at the height of the reproductive crazies, when I threw salt and pepper shakers at him, Ryan didn't run screaming, but instead put me to bed, and then went out into the yard with a flashlight to retrieve them.

Oh, and then there are the things I love about Ryan I can't write here, because my Mom reads this. Hi Mom!

Well, maybe the secret isn't to marry Ryan. Maybe the secret is to marry someone who will love you enough to do all those things for you. Someone who not only wants to give you their best, but brings out your best, and protects you from your worst. Someone who doesn't make writing their initials on your Justin Bieber notebook seem crazy -- just loving.

Yeah, no, that's never going to happen. I would even have to mock myself.

Read more →

The Time of His Life

In the past week Ryan and I have discovered that Netflix has many of our 1980's favorites on demand. We've watched "Lost Boys," and "St. Elmo's Fire" and Saturday night (date night) I had the perfect film picked out -- "Dirty Dancing."

Ryan was NOT excited. Not even in a "nostalgic, wow we were young when this movie came out isn't it corny to watch it now" kind of way. He suggested a compromise, but "Point Break" isn't available for streaming. Besides, I wanted something romantic, not bromantic.

I made him a deal.

If he would sit through a 30 minute, fast forwarding to all of my favorite parts "Dirty Dancing" viewing without any snide comments or eye rolling, then he could decide what we would do with the rest of the time until we had to go pick up Meg from my parents -- maybe even a little dirty dancing of our own.

He almost made it.

In the last scene, where Johnny Castle and Baby are dancing together for all the world to see, Ryan just couldn't help himself. A huge sigh escaped his lips, and he said "oh, just kiss him, he's so dreamy." His eyes were rolling so hard in his head I could hear them.

Poor guy. A deal is a deal though.

I might give him another chance though. I just found out "Strictly Ballroom" is available for streaming...

Read more →