(I'll draw for the winner of the greatest 800th post giveaway ever tonight! Come back by 8 central to see if you're the lucky duck winner! And if you haven't entered yet, there is still time! I just cut out paper hearts and am going to write names on them next. You have until 8. It's fun to win!)
Let's talk about marriage now.
About a week ago my husband walked into the living room and we shared the following exchange:
R: Do you know that you always leave the right cap of your contact case unscrewed?
Becca: mmmhmmm. Yes, I do that.
R: Why do you do that?
B: Well, I guess I unscrew the left side, put that contact in, screw that lid back on, unscrew the right lid, put that contact in and walk away.
R: That’s what I was afraid you were going to say. So you’re pretty much just too busy to screw on the right lid?
B: Yep. I suppose I am.
R: Maybe you could try taking a little more time and screwing that side closed too?
B: (with wide eyes) Oh my word. I am under your skin! Aren’t I?! You are annoyed with me!
(end scene)
There were seasons of our marriage where I might have had this realization that I annoy my husband and curled into a heap of tears, “He thinks I’m his little sister!” boo hoo hoo.
But for some reason that night I was completely amused. He was really bugged.
The next night we shared this conversation:
We were (well, I was. He happened to be in the living room too) watching The Bachelor. (Don’t judge. Just love it with me.) And I said to him aghast, “What on earth does the Bachelor see in that model girl?!! They never ever talk about anything and she is so terrible!”
And he explained how the bachelor will keep her around because of physical attraction, but he’ll never pick her in the end.
I said this was ridiculous. And then followed up, “Are you physically attracted to me?” (break scene. In this moment I realized the error of my question. I was five days without a shower (bathroom under construction…this was not my fault!) with greasy hair, glasses and my usual comfy mom uniform, while watching a show filled with stunning girls. Poor timing for many reasons.)
He chose his words. “Yes. But maybe you could put those festive pajama pants away until next Christmas. It is February now.”
Again I laughed. I found his reply to actually be pretty kind and forgiving and probably the nicest thing he could have said to his ever-growing, moody wife who has been limping around for the last four months, complaining of every single smell under the sun, while sporting no make-up, slick pony tails, throw-up breath and those fancy multi colored pajama pants.
These two conversations helped me snap out of it.
I went to Target the next day I bought all new makeup. It was time to start trying. I got some maternity leggings to wear with skirts, and a cute maternity cardigan.
And best of all, and this was a complete blessing, we had planned our first Ivar-less getaway this past weekend to California. The timing was perfect. We spent three nights in San Diego on an Island with nothing but time to reconnect. We didn’t rent a car, so we walked everywhere, hand in hand, talking, remembering, making new dreams for our future. It was downright miraculous.
And I wore foundation!
And we felt the baby kicking for the first time.
And we played a new game while watching Jeopardy where you try to think of a funny answer before the smart people beep in with the right answer. Like, “The Double Tree Hotel fresh makes this tasty treat for their guests to enjoy upon arrival” my answer: “What are pulled pork sandwiches?” Or, “This 16th century poet is most known for his dark and unexpected endings.” “Who is Shel Silverstein?”
And we ate a lot. And had three picnics out on the beach at the ocean: fish tacos, omlets and hashbrowns and dippin dots.
And we ate at an awesome Italian restaurant called Bice with Groves' cousins Wendy and John, laughing far too much that the c in Bice is pronounced with a ch sound.
And we worshiped on Sunday with a small and devoted body of believers who moved me to tears multiple times and even served breakfast egg rolls during the service. (!!!)
And I moved from Little Sister status back to Wife, and more importantly, Girlfriend. We missed Ivar like crazies by the last day, but this was a good move for us. And Ivar was given unending love and affection from Mimi and Papa and the whole Groves family.
The best news: We decided that we wouldn’t have to fly out of state to have this sort of reconnect again. Our best conversations were the first night and the following day. We decided that we need to do more overnights, dropping Ivar off and the two of us heading somewhere nearby. It was necessary to be out of the house, and out of touch with the outside world, but it doesn’t require an airline ticket, a resort and a three night stay. We’re hopeful to duplicate this reconnect night once a month. It’s that important.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go put on some mascara. And change out of my new muted grey pajama pants.
