9-12-11

Two years ago today, Lucas and I were married.

Over the years I've read dozens of Facebook posts from doting wives wishing their husbands "happy anniversary." The wife then goes on a spiel about how the past X amount of years she's been married to the husband have been the best years of her life. And she talks about how wonderful the husband is and how she still loves him just as she did the day they were married. She talks about how her husband is her soulmate and best friend. She talks about all the joy he's brought to her life.

Well, I'll spare you all the lovey dovey stuff.

Instead I'd like to focus on our marriage - not how much we love each other - but our actual partnership in holy matrimony. I'd life to focus on how we've changed as people and as a couple since we got married. I'd like to get a little real, because from my understanding, most people would agree that marriage isn't all sunshine and flowers...at least not all the time.

Before marriage -
1. I wore make-up religiously and cute clothes in order to impress Lucas./ Lucas wore matching socks and clean clothes on a regular basis...not just on special occasions.
2. Passing gas was taboo, not just what one does after a meal.
3. We went to the bathroom with the doors closed.
4. It was my pleasure to do Lucas's laundry. I thought I was being cute. (?)
5. We snuggled.
6. We both offered to drive.
7. We burned each other mixed CDs. (That kind of makes me want to puke.)
8. We dressed up to go out - even if it was on to JD's Sandwich Shop
9. Dinner was an event where we sat down at a table across from one another with the TV off and the laptop out of sight.
10. Holding hands was simply part of walking side-by-side.
11. Annoying habits weren't annoying....yet.
After marriage
1. The "if it doesn't smell, wear it" rule applies to both parties.
2. Tooting, belching, scratching, squeezing, and picking are now acceptable actions when in each other's company. We've become so comfortable with doing these things in front of each other, we have to monitor ourselves in public...
3. Sometimes flushing the toilet is too much work. (Too much information, I know.)
4. I steal the money from Lucas' pockets anytime I do the laundry, because I'm bitter and feel he owes me.
5. We actually had a discussion about getting two full-sized beds, because we constantly tell each other to "scoot to your side." Along with sleep punches and pushes, we've also both ripped the covers off each other dozens of time.
6. Driving is a chore, so now we race to say "not it" first.
7. If one wants a mixed CD, one makes it himself.
8. It doesn't matter what we look like in public anymore. Who are we trying to impress?
9. Dinner now consists of eating at our coffee table, watching Netflix, and searching the interweb.
10. We walk beside each other when Lucas can remember to wait for me to collect my things and get out of the car.
11. We're both extremely aware of each other's annoying habits.

I'm sure this makes all of you un-wed couples want to run to the alter right now. (Ha ha.) And I'm sure some of you married folks are thinking, well, that's not how my marriage is. You guys have issues. (I applaud you.)

And perhaps some of you can relate to some degree.

But it is, what it is.

Like most married coupled, we've become comfortable.

And while there are some improvements we'd both like to make to our marriage (bring back mixed CDs?), we're both still here.

And between the marital spats, we've found simple ways to demonstrate our love for one another.

When Lucas' car got a flat tire on the way to the airport, I changed it while he was away on his trip.

When I got the stomach flu, Lucas held back my hair.

If Lucas is still asleep in bed when I leave for work in the morning, I always kiss him on the cheek before I go.

We tell each other "I love you" before we end a phone conversation or leave the house - even if we've just had an argument.

Lucas knows how to "doctor" my coffee perfectly.

I have become a proof-reading expert.

Lucas rubs my back anytime I ask him to. (He honestly does.)

On our first date, three years ago today, I wore a blue and white striped cardigan. I just realized - at this moment - that I am wearing that same cardigan today. Lucas wore a plaid button-up shirt that now belongs to me, because it doesn't fit him anymore. He was obviously nervous and looked down at the table a lot. I wasn't nervous and acted surprisingly bubbly. He scooted his chair closer to mine because a band was playing and I couldn't hear what he was saying. And I said something stupid, and he smiled. I fell in love with the little wrinkles around his eyes and the gap between his teeth. Not long after that first date, I fell in love with Lucas, too.

It's hard sometimes to remember that initial feeling of love (the sunshine and flowers) that got you to the alter in the first place. Marriage is tough. We get so comfortable that we sometimes hurt each other's feelings and say things we don't really mean and forget about all the little things that make our marriages special.

 I think that's why God created anniversaries. (Was it God or Hallmark? I'd like to think it was God.) Anniversary is meant to remind us husbands and wives of what it means to be married.

Ya know? It really does mean for better or for worse.

Lucas, the past two years have been beautifully imperfect.

Even though you just left your dirty lunch dishes on the coffee table, I still love you and always will.

I am forever your Uncle Sticky.

(Yeah, I still haven't figured out what that means.)



The Scholar

WARNING: Due to lack of sleep, this post is a bit of a hodge-podge. The thoughts don't quite string together as I'd like them to, but I think you'll get the over-all idea. Good luck to you when reading this.

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A few months ago on a trip to TN, I was in my old bedroom gawking at myself in a full length mirror when I noticed an index card fall at my feet. When I was in high school I used to tuck index cards into the sides of the mirror. This one boasted a schedule I had made for a random Wednesday in 2002. It went something like this:

4:00 a.m.     Wake up!
4:30 a.m.     Study Pre-Cal
6:00 a.m.     Study AP Euro (at school)
7:00 a.m.     Ivey test

Yes, indeedy! I was a giant nerd in high school. Not only did I go to school at six in the morning to study, but I also over-involved myself in extra-curriculars. I can remember a time when I actually had driving a stick shift and changing from jeans into ballet tights down to an art. My days were filled with running from one activity to the next - dance, play rehearsal, Interact volunteer events, Interact club meetings, Interact board meetings, Interact district board meetings, Interact scrapbook meetings, Speech Team tournaments, and on and on it goes. Somewhere in there I managed to study and work in the church nursery for four hours each Sunday.

How did I do that?

I must have been crazy.

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Last year was the first year since I was four years old, that I wasn't on a school schedule. Until last year, my new year began when the academic year began. During the 2010-2011 year, I felt lost...and bored...and lazy. No matter what I piled on my plate, nothing was ever enough. I actually made a daily cleaning schedule that I successfully followed for months! Laundry was always done, our cabinets and closets well organized. I had time to jog, time to write blogs, time to play with the pets, time to do spontaneous nice things for other people, etc.. In comparison to the craziness I put myself through in high school (and to a lesser degree in college), the life I just described sounds wonderful, right?

It was for a while. Then, I sort of lost myself. I lost my drive and my ambition. I needed chaos and a tight schedule and projects and deadlines.

So, I went out and found those things.

Now I have two positions at EVMS, fourteen (yes, 14) dance classes to teach, a biweekly volunteer position at Norfolk General, and two colleges classes (Bio. and Stats, respectively).

I have a ton on my plate. When I was piling it on, I thought that if I could handle all the stuff I did when I was a teenager, surely I can do it now that I'm older and (maybe a tiny bit?) wiser.

***

When I reflect on my high school career, I beam with pride. Man, I did a good job. I graduated in the top ten percent of my class. I got into a good college. I didn't get into (much) trouble. I was extremely active in the community. Seems like I had it all....

Then, I find an index card from one fall day in 2002 on which I mapped out at my morning  from 4-7. 

 I remember what life was really like.

1. I was ALWAYS frazzled. Unless I was asleep, my face read "panic attack." My junior/senior english teacher actually sought after and asked my mother if I was "you know, OK?" Yes, as in OK in the head.

2. When my hair was long, there were pencils in it. When my hair was short, it looked like I'd put my fingers in a electrical outlet.  

3. My fingers were always covered in white out.

4. My Ford Ranger Splash was packed with coffee cups, glitter, construction paper, food containers, moldy Tupperware, clothes, clothes, and more clothes, shoes, Mod Podge glue, papers, random props - you name it, Bogartha housed it. (Bogartha is the name of the truck.) On occassion, I'd give my neighbor a lift to school. Now that I think about it, aside from the fact that she's a small person, I don't know how the heck she actually fit in the passenger's seat.)

5. My hands and arms were covered in notes. While I had a planner, I was always afraid that I'd forget something. Thus, I wrote important memos on my body where I couldn't miss them. If I was wearing a skirt and ran out of room, I'd write on the tops of my knees. 

6. My bedroom was a disaster area. My bed was basically my desk and always covered in papers. The floor, aside from a piece of carpet at the foot of my bed where I slept, served as my laundry basket and second desk.

7. I was a shifty character. For me, my enjoyment at graduation depended on two things: 1.) Where I was sitting at graduation (the top 10% sat in the front, and 2.) How many cords I wore.

I was a "member" of the Beta club. This meant that I got the three credits I needed my junior year and bribed a Beta officer to give me my three credits senior year. You see, I was the secretary of Interact, and the Treasurer of Interact was also the Secretary of Beta. Interact require ten volunteer credits for a member to remain in "good standing." While she was treasurer, this person lacked Interact's amount of required credits. So, I reasoned with her and made a bargain for my Beta cord. If she gave me the one Beta credit I needed, I would give her the credits she needed for Interact. I walked across the stage at graduation wearing four cords: Interact, Top 10%, French club, and Beta.

Clearly, I was a competetive over-achiever, obsessed with "getting ahead," and completely over-extended.
I was a huge mess.

Why did I do that to myself?

Because I was blessed with a  group of tight-knit friends that challenged me academically and socially. If I wanted to fit in with my crowd, I had to play the game. What classes they took, I took. What activities they participated in, I participated in too. (Well, with some variation.)

My friends were motivation to succeed. While keeping up with them was exhausting, it was one of the best things I could have done for myself . My friends made me work harder. They made me see my potential. They pushed me to my limits. Thus, I will forever be in their debt.

Now my friends, who all did very well for themselves in college and beyond, are scattered around the country. And while I don't compare myself to them as I did in high school, I still look to them for motivation. (Yes, believe it or not, my high school friends are still my dearest friends in the world. We still talk fairly regularly and visit each other when we can.)

I am channeling their help right now - especially now. If they were here, they would tell me that I am capable of making an A on my Biology test tomorrow. They would tell me that they've studied that stuff and it's fairly easy. Then, they'd quiz me over information I just studied and that they probably haven't looked at in years. And they would probably know more than me, because my friends are all incredibly smart people. (OK, to be fair, two of them work in the science field and one just finished taking the MCAT, so I hope they know more than me.) I am channeling their help right now, because tomorrow when I take the first written college exam I've had in five years, I will be thinking about them and their accomplishments. And I will know that I have prepared and that I'm a smart person, too, and I can succeed just like them. Because they always told me I could.
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I'm sitting in my living room, staring at my messy house. The coffee table and surrounding floor resembles my bedroom in high school. It's a cluttered mess. I'm not wearing make-up, my hair's a mess, and I'm going "commando", because I haven't done laundry in a while. I stayed up until two this morning preparing lesson plans, studying, and completing paperwork for one of my jobs.
I'm exhausted, and it feels so good.

I almost can't wait until I start making index card schedules. Hopefully, I won'tever have to begin my day at four in the morning. But if I do, I know I've done it before and I can do it again.