priorities

Ty doesn't watch sports and he doesn't play golf. He doesn't have bowling or poker nights. But, he does play video games.

He kills zombies. And aliens.

He is not one of those men who disappear into the basement at inappropriate times for days. He only plays a few hours a week, always after checking with my schedule. He and his brothers connect on the Xbox and spend hours yelling bad words at the huge t.v that we bought just for this purpose. He is picky about his games, but very serious once he chooses one. Until he beats it, and then he's is forever finished with it. Except for Halo. They can play Halo for hours and hours and hours. And hours. They get all excited every time some new version comes out. Case in point. Tomorrow is Tommy's birthday so Ty had been planning to have lunch with him at school. It is also the release date of the newest Halo game. He took the whole day off. So did his brothers. They are picking up their copies at midnight and beginning immediately. Ty will meet Tommy for lunch while the rest nap or something and then they will play some more. I want to make fun of him but I can't because he's so responsible most of the time about all of it. It's pretty funny though that a 35-year-old attorney is taking the whole day off to play video games, just like he promised he would when he was 12.

better with him

(photo courtesy Sara Weihn)

Today is July 23. If I was a good wife I would have written this post five days ago. Ergo. I spent the morning in Tulsa with my girlfriends and I came home in the afternoon to a husband with a raging migraine, poor thing. It was very romantic. We aren't really that kind of couple. But we are really happy.

We quibble over movies and we search for new hole-in-the-wall restaurants. We watch the Office and French steam-punk movies on Netflix. He bikes, I run. He talks through his tax transactions with me, I tell him all about playgroup gossip and sewing techniques. We get the same jokes and can finish one another's sentences. We married when we were barely more than babies and we grew up the rest the way together.

We waited seven years to have children because we really liked being with each other. We wanted to be selfish. We went to Denny's at 3 in the morning and we slept until noon on the weekends. We never had much money but we had a really lot of fun. We lived abroad and moved a lot. We found out that we were really good at some of the things we loved. We worked multiple jobs and went to school and came home to heaven, because that's where the other was.

We had a beautiful a baby boy and bought a grown-up house. He learned his profession and I learned to stand on my own two feet. We leaned on each other. We had another beautiful boy and started again in a new city. I learned how to fix and make things, he learned to believe in himself. Our boys are delightful and one of the great joys of our lives, but we miss each other lately. There is always so much to do. I admit to missing the freedom that came with being penniless nomads, the gobs of time to be together. Just together.

We have been together for 14 years, married for 13 and it feels like a lifetime. It is in a way. My lifetime, so far. All of the best parts have included him, they wouldn't be the best without him. And the best parts keep getting better.

k-i-s-s-i-n-g

So I was listening to "Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me" on NPR on Saturday. (if you don't listen, you should, it makes Saturday way funnier). They referenced a recent study in which the scientists ( who obviously have way too much time on their hands) found that 92% of women remember the first pair of shoes they bought but that only two thirds of women remember to whom they gave their first kiss. Shenanigans, I say! I am way more shoe-centric than many women and I can't remember the first pair of shoes I bought (not that I don't fondly remember many lovely pairs) but I totally remember kissing Jared at Sugarhouse Park in the ninth grade. Maybe they only interviewed like three people or something. Either way, I hope those weren't my tax dollars they were throwing on the fire because I fail to see any use for such a study and I am a big supporter of the shoe arts. And kissing.

once upon a time

Last Friday, I painted the kitchen. I had decided I was not thrilled with the color I had chosen three years ago when we bought this house and wanted something else. I sort of mentioned in passing that I wanted to paint the kitchen to Ty and took his affirmative grunt as tacit agreement. When I painted a whole wall (to check the color) on Thursday evening he got a little miffed with me. He felt, quite correctly, that I hadn't consulted him. I just hadn't thought he would care. Luckily my color choice was spot on and the kitchen is much more lovely than previously, so he forgave me. Saturday was our 12th anniversary. We are not good at anniversaries, things always seem to go wrong, (and we couldn't find a sitter) so we played it safe and stuck close to home. Take -out and a dvd are not what I had in mind as a romantic evening when my much younger self pictured future important evenings together. But we have been to all those places, fancy restaurants and concerts, candlelight and roses, and while I can't say I don't adore all of those things, they don't make the evening. Him being there, with me, is all that I care about. He, of the obvious joke and the surreal comment. He, who thinks I'm smart and pretty, even when pregnant. He who always lets me go my own way and supports me even when I take a wrong turn. We aren't super demonstrative in public (He still blushes when I kiss him with anyone watching) so maybe you weren't aware of the fairy tale love that lives in our house. I guess I am living my happily ever after. Lucky me.

unfortunately, I was the entertainment

Today was my birthday. My beloved did all that he could to make it lovely. He made muffins in the morning, watched the kids during yoga, chased Johnny at the soccer game and even went to fabric store with me. I can't prove it, but I'm pretty sure it was the first time he has ever been to fabric store in his life. This evening the sitter arrived promptly at 7:30 and we headed out to dinner. The vegetarian place had great entrees, but the dessert menu was not quite what we were looking for so we headed to the place that has flour less chocolate cake as a staple. We were seated in a raised booth not to far from the live jazz ensemble right in the center of the action. The hostess had mistakenly handed us regular menus so I volunteered to go and request the dessert list. I stood up and headed towards the hostess stand, except remember how I said we were seated in a raised booth? I forgot about that part and went sprawling onto the floor. I, of course, curtsied prettily to my laughing audience and gracefully continued on my errand. I remember thinking when I was a clumsy, gawky thirteen-year-old that some day I would be a grown woman, elegantly and polished. Apparently, at 32, I am not there yet. Yeesh.

beloved- thankful #48

I am married to the great love of my life. He is always patient and funny. He is never predictable, never cruel. There is no one on Earth I would prefer to spend an hour with, no one who knows me better and loves me anyway. He thinks I'm beautiful, he thinks I am a wonderful mother, he thinks I'm smart. He never doubts that I can do anything I decide to, he never considers that I might fail. I still get butterflies when he really kisses me, every time.

I adore him.

(photo courtesy Sara Weihn)

that's so juvenile

As I was doing the breakfast dishes this afternoon (yes, you read that right, this afternoon) I noticed the remains of my husbands breakfast in his bowl. My wonderful, 32-year-old husband puts chocolate milk on his Life cereal. No wonder he totally gets my kids.