14 Years

We celebrated 14 years of marriage yesterday.  There was no fancy date night out, no gifts or luxuries of any kind.  It was our normal 5:30 am wake up call, crying kids, 5th grade Social Studies, a long day at work.  But the beauty of 14 years of marriage is the deep level of intimacy intertwined in all that routine, the devoted sense of love that makes the everyday seem special and full.  14 years in and we are so comfortable with each other, so sure of who we are as individuals that our union has grown stronger, more secure, less afraid.  We have been loyal and devoted to each other since we were 19 year old kids and the reality of that has set it: there's nothing to be afraid of.  We're still here.

We have learned that marriage is a journey that requires both partners to be ALL IN.  There's no toeing the line or putting in the bare minimum: you have to go in with guns blazing and hearts on fire and be there, every single day.  It's a concept that seems so obvious when you first start out but, as time moves forward and the relationship is stretched to accommodate more people and commitments and changes, it's easy to lose sight of that "all or nothing" mentality.  But Shawn and I, well, we are fighters.  We are lovers who expect nothing but the best from each other, constantly pushing and encouraging and tough loving each other through each stage of life.  It can get ugly sometimes but there's beauty in that, too.  Because, at the end of the day, there's nothing more rewarding than the person you love believing in you, waiting for you at the finish line, being there.

14 years of marriage and I am so proud to call this man my husband.  He is a good person, a kind and forgiving man.  He is fair but firm, understanding and compassionate but not afraid to push me into the right direction when I am struggling.  This year was a year of settling down for us, enjoying the simple moments and becoming more comfortable with who we are as a couple.  He is my best friend and I enjoy every minute I get to spend with him, however rare those minutes are these days.  This is our busy young family season of life and we are appreciating it to the fullest.  "The days are long but the years are short": we constantly remind each other of that perspective. Kids in our bed, a bustling crowded kitchen, dinners around the dining room table, movie nights and dance parties: these are the moments that make life worth living.

Thank you, Shawn, for always being there for our family in the biggest way possible.  Thank you for your hard work and determination, for believing in me and the commitment we made to each other 14 years ago.  Thank you for stepping in that ring day after day, round after round, never tapping out. We stand here together, 14 years later, because we show up to work every single day.  That's something I will never take for granted.  I love you more than words could ever say.

The Evolution of a Man

My husband has always been the hardest worker I know, the kind of man who comes home after a long day with oil on his clothes and mud on his boots.  His hands have always been rough and calloused and his skin has grown weathered over the years from his "rain or shine" career.  He is most comfortable outdoors, tools in his hands, building or fixing something, having something to look at after a long day and being able to say, "I did that".

For many years, Shawn worked on a multitude of off shore oil rigs in the Gulf of Mexico: Louisiana's most booming industry.  He worked away for two weeks at a time, leaving me at home to hold down the fort.  After he and his comrades completed each hitch, they'd hop on a helicopter and fly back to shore to race home to their families, wives and girlfriends and babies anxiously awaiting their return. It was a grueling career path that required much sacrifice: the conditions were dangerous, the weeks away were tough.  But we learned to enjoy the two weeks a month that he was home, adapting to the schedule shared by many families across the Deep South: two weeks on, two weeks off.  That was our life for many years.  We rescheduled holidays, postponed birthday parties, celebrated early when needed.  I cooked big homecoming dinners and we talked on the phone as much as possible.  We made the most of it and Shawn's unconventional schedule became our "normal".

People often told me, "I don't know how you do it".  But, there was no questions of if or how, the sacrifices were made because this was Shawn's passion. His career was fulfilling and though he hated leaving us for two weeks every month, the pros far outweighed the cons. He made a good living and provided our family with financial security, excellent health insurance, and a solid foundation for which to build our future on.  This was more than just a job.  It was a part of who he was.

But then the accident happened, and the injuries he sustained rendered him unable to ever work on an offshore oil rig again.  No matter how much nerve and muscular function Shawn regains in his arm and hand, he'll never be able to pass the physical required to work in the oil and gas industry again. Just like that, a decade of hard work and perseverance was over and my husband was forced to pull up his boot straps and move on to the next chapter of his life, those days out on the rig now a fond and distant memory.

He struggled with this reality for a very long time.  He mourned the loss of his career, a furious battle brewing inside his soul as he redefined who he was and what he stood for.  What kind of man was he now that he was no longer the primary breadwinner of our family?  What was he contributing now that he was no longer the invincible force he once was?  It is an incredibly humbling and frightening experience to witness a man become a vulnerable and broken version of himself, to watch him fight and kick and scream to start over while simultaneously holding on to what he once was.

But, time heals all wounds: in Shawn's case both physically and emotionally.  It started slowly, with him keeping Brees home from daycare a few days a week.  He saw it as a way to save money and spend extra one on one time with our girl.  I saw it as a way for him to nurture and love our youngest while also contributing to our family, contributing in a domesticated way that was completely new to him.  The few days a week slowly turned into four days and then, at Shawn's insistence, we pulled Brees out of daycare completely.  Those days that they spent together, the lunches he made, the laundry he folded, the running of our household while I was away at work: they were healing him.  He felt needed again, validated as a husband and father.  And I watched his eyes begin to shine again.

Those hands that once worked on machines were now being used to care for our children.  While I put in more hours at work and took on the role of the breadwinner, Shawn stepped up and gave our children his whole heart and soul.  He reassured me constantly through his actions that we were, in fact, a team, his old definitions of what a man should be shifting and evolving into something new.

When I was pregnant for River, I researched our child care options, worried that taking care of two little kids might be too much for my husband, wanting to protect him just as much as I protected the kids. Our babysitter informed me, however, that she was raising her tuition prices and changing her attendance policies, putting me in an absolute panic as I did the math and realized that there was no way we could afford to have two kids in daycare. I came home crying one day, explaining the numbers to Shawn, throwing my hands up and wondering what to do.  But he never broke a sweat, there was never even a moment of consideration.  He already knew.

"They're not going to daycare," Shawn told me with complete confidence.  "I'm going to keep both of them at home full time.  I'm a stay at home dad now, babe."

"Are you sure?" I asked over and over.  Are you sure?  It would be a big undertaking, staying home with two small kids.  But he was determined and excited, believing with every ounce of his being that this was what God had intended for our family all along.  Not for him to be traveling away for half the year, missing out on so much precious time with his family.  Those days were over and rightfully so. This chapter, this chapter was made for us to be together.  Our kids will know what it means to have a father home full time, to be privileged enough to have a stay at home parent.  And so we forged ahead with our new plan, determined to support each other in our new roles as a working mom and stay at home dad.

Now, when people ask me, "What does your husband do for a living?", I proudly tell them that he stays home with our kids.  I've gotten every reaction possible, from confused looks and raised eyebrows to pats on the back and praise and encouragement.  We try not to take the questions and comments too personally, being a stay at home dad just isn't a common occurrence in our community and people tend to need a little time to warm up to the idea.  I'm so proud of him, I tell them. He is the best father to our children and a true gift to our family.  He has taken on his new role with as much passion as he did when he used to fly off on that helicopter. He has rewritten his own personal definition of what a man should be, how he should love, what constitutes a hard day's work. These kids: they are his new adventure.  And he is serving them so well.

My husband is a living example that sometimes life throws you curve balls and knocks you on your ass.  When the going gets tough, you have to find enough courage inside yourself to let the things you once loved go so that you can make room for the things waiting for you.  Though we never imagined these changes, the shifting roles, the pain and struggle that came with it all, we would never take any of it back.  My husband has grown and changed in ways that have completely taken my breathe away and I am so humbled with the grace and patience in which he chooses to move forward.  He refuses to give up, to look back, to live with regret.  Instead, he embraces this journey and pushes me to embrace it right along with him.

I love you, Shawn.  I love the way you love.  Thank you for the many ways in which you teach me what life is truly all about.

 

We Stood Tall

We've been in the thick of things around these parts.  I've had a blanket of worry hanging
over me for the last 3 days and it hit me this afternoon that I need to release it, I need to 
write.  I need to let go of the words flooding my mind and maybe, just maybe, they will 
all begin to make sense.

To make an incredibly long story short, we found out this week that, due to a new
injury, Shawn will most likely have to have surgery again in the next few weeks.  The surgery
is relatively minor though it will involve some down time and a 6-8 week recovery period.
He will have to have a damaged tendon repaired in his bicep, a surgery everyone ensures us
is small potatoes compared to what he's already been through.  We are unsure of when
or where this will take place, there is a chance we will have to travel for the surgery due to
the need of a specialist to perform it.  We have spent the week on the phone, in waiting
rooms, having X-rays and MRIs performed: all things we have grown extremely accustomed
to over the last year.  I've advocated for my beloved husband to doctors and nurses
and technicians, begging them to pay attention and hurry the fuck up.  Time is precious
here, he is precious.  This can't wait for insignificant factors such as referrals and
insurance technicalities: this needs to happen now.

Shawn is, despite this turn of events, doing magnificently well.  He is healthy and happy
and remaining fearless despite this setback.  He is carrying our family on his
shoulders, bringing us through this storm with his optimism.  "We've been through so
much worse, we can't give up now".  I can't say that I've been so gracious.  I am thinking
about all of the details: how long will I have to take off work, who will keep the girls if we
have to travel, what about all of the preparations we still have to make for the baby, will he
still be recovering when the baby gets here?  These thoughts, these worries, my own
selfish needs have been getting in the way of my heart just filling up with faith.  Because
you can't just have faith and be strong and positive during the good times: you have to be all
of these things during the bad as well.  Especially during the bad.

But I am 30 weeks pregnant and my body and mind are moving inward, I am beginning
the instinctual process of nesting, my subconscious mind forcing me to slow down and
really begin focusing on the work of laboring and birthing this baby.  This upcoming
surgery and its aftermath: it is not something I had planned to occur in my last trimester
of pregnancy.  And I would be a complete liar if I didn't admit that my head has actually
gone there: I've actually allowed myself to be selfish enough to think that way.  To
think, "Who's going to take care of me?  How can I care for someone else when I'm in such
a vulnerable place myself?  Am I strong enough to do this again?".  But then, last night,
Brees woke up crying and needed to be comforted back to sleep.  Shawn hopped out of bed
and went up the stairs to her rescue, leaving me to rest in the bed we have shared for 13
years.  When he came back to my side after putting our youngest daughter back to sleep,
he laid his head against my belly, his arm wrapped around me, and every selfish thought
left me in a wave of relief.  In sickness and in health, we will be there for each other.  We
will help each other in every way that we can and we will pull through this time in which we
are both so fragile.  This is what marriage is all about, this is what makes our love so strong.

We don't have all of the answers right now, we are unsure of what the next few weeks will
hold.  But, we are sure of one true thing: we will make it through, together.  We have
good doctors, an amazing family, and faith in a God who has never steered us wrong.
Shawn's surgery will hopefully happen soon, involve no complications, and he will be
fully healed in time to cradle his newborn baby son.  His first son.  I will remain healthy
and strong enough to take care of things while my husband is down.  I will not be afraid, I
will not obsess over things beyond my control, I will not worry about a situation that I
know we will persevere through.  Shawn is so strong, he has proven that a million
times already.  And though it is in my nature to be in control and prepared at all times, I
will not worry about the little things.  I will ask for help when needed and I will let the
small stuff go.  We are as prepared as we have ever been to welcome our baby into the
world, surgery or not.  I really don't think he'll mind if I don't get around to hanging up the
rest of the art work in his nursery or  if I don't finish my pregnancy scrapbook to
perfection.  The only thing that matters is that we get through this time with gracious
spirits and hearts filled with love.  That is how we will survive this.

I cried on my way home from work today, big fat tears of frustration and exhaustion.
This song by Mumford and Sons came on the radio and I knew that they were singing to
me.  These words embody so much of what we are experiencing, they encouraged me in
so many ways:

And after the storm,
I run and run as the rains come
And I look up, I look up,
on my knees and out of luck,
I look up.

Night has always pushed up day
You must know life to see decay
But I won't rot, I won't rot
Not this mind and not this heart,
I won't rot.

And I took you by the hand
And we stood tall,
And remembered our own land,
What we lived for.

And there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears.
And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears.
Get over your hill and see what you find there,
With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair.

And now I cling to what I knew
I saw exactly what was true
But oh no more.
That's why I hold,
That's why I hold with all I have.
That's why I hold.

And I won't die alone and be left there.
Well I guess I'll just go home,
Oh God knows where.
Because death is just so full and man so small.
Well I'm scared of what's behind and what's before.

And there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears.
And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears.
Get over your hill and see what you find there,
With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair.

Rock'n'roll Babymoon Adventure

I saw this print on Etsy last Friday: "Today, I have loved you for 1,424 days".  Shawn
was sitting next to me, reading a book and keeping my feet warm with his.  "I wonder
how many days it would be, if I add them all up, that I've loved you?" I wondered out loud.  

We did the math, smiling at each other when I announced proudly: "5045 days!!"

We've been loving each other, completely and hopelessly and imperfectly, for 5045
days.  How blessed we truly are.  And it was with the awe and wonder of that enormous
number that we set out this weekend on a rock'n'roll babymoon adventure.  My lover and
best friend and companion for the last 5045 days and our unborn son and me.

When I was pregnant for Belle, one of my coworkers asked if Shawn and I were going on
a "babymoon".  I literally laughed out loud, it sounded so silly to me, just the name
alone.  Looking back, I laugh out loud at myself and my clueless, childless 24 year old
attitude.  Of course we didn't need a babymoon: everyday of our lives together was
a babymoon!  All we had was each other, loving and living our lives completely immersed
in each other.  Cut to our second pregnancy with Brees, less time together thanks to fast
paced careers, a busy 6 year old, and the growing list of responsibilities that accompanies
your early thirties.  We embarked on a long weekend roadtrip, just the two of us, spent
some time at the beach, caught a Kings of Leon show, enjoyed a little quality time before
we would have to open our hearts and our lives to another little girl.  We began to
understand the importance of a "babymoon", fully aware of how much time had been
taken from our marriage in order to care for our child, knowing that the time would
continue to be stacked against us once we added another.  And so we grasped on to
our weekend away together and used the connection and strength we obtained from
that quality time to move us forward into the next phase of our journey together.

Needless to say, for this third time around, we REALLY get it.  Alone time is a rarity these
days and, despite our best intentions, we do not always MAKE the time as we should.  We
are guilty of not always putting our marriage first, focusing so much of our attention on
our girls, our home, and our careers that we rely on the unspoken strength of our love to
carry us through at times.  But, this weekend, we took the time.  We left the girls with my
dad and went away.  We talked without being interrupted, slept in, ordered room service,
and fell back into each other's arms.  We held hands at a Black Crowes show, singing along
to "Josephine" with tears in our eyes.  We had dinner with some of our best friends.  We
went to Jazz Fest and danced in the mud to "Lonely Boy".  We took our time, threw out
the schedules, and enjoyed just being Shawn and Liv.  It was our babymoom and, as cheesy as
I once thought that concept was, it was so needed and appreciated.  5045 days later and
that man still gives me butterflies, still makes me laugh like no other.

Shawn decided to set out and gather some festival snacks to get us through the next band.  

One of my favorite parts of Jazz Fest is the food and so I waited anxiously in my lawn chair 

to see what delicious treat he would bring back.  Would it be a shrimp po-boy?  A gyro?  

Maybe a bowl of red beans and rice?  None of the above.  He brought me chocolate 

covered strawberries.  I burst out laughing, what a random choice!  But he rationalized 

his decision in true Shawn fashion: "Babe, it's healthy and junk food all rolled into one!  

Both you and the baby will be happy!".  And so I sat under the beautiful Louisiana sky, 

listened to The Metermen and ate my fresh, chocolate covered strawberries with the 

biggest smile on my face.  What a smart husband.

There's a verse from The Black Crowes' song, "Josephine", that Shawn and I sing to each
other all the time:

No waiting for redemption, no leaving love behind
You got to know where you wanna be, it gets cold outside
It's too late to play it safe so let's let it all ride
Yeah, let's let it all ride, let it all ride

Marriage, though at times full of romance and bliss, is a job that needs attention and great
care.  It is a joining of two souls that requires constant vigilance.  There is no leaving
love behind, love must always be front and center.  And even though our lives get busy
and full, we must commit to setting aside that all important time for each other.  Whether it's
in the form of a babymoon or a late night discussion in the bathroom, we need that time.
"You got to know where you wanna be" and, babe, I wanna be with you.  Always.

Sweet Friday

Dear Friday,

I thought you might never get here.  Since I was on call last weekend, I have been working
for 12 days straight.  My body actually played a practical joke on me on Wednesday and 
made me think that it was Friday THEN.  Dude, I was pissed when I realized the week was 
only half over.  I am tired, grumpy, and in desperate need of a nap.  You got here just in time.

Shawn and I are leaving this afternoon for a weekend long spiritual retreat.  To say that we
are excited is an understatement.  We are ecstatic!  A whole weekend for the two of us to
just focus on quieting our minds and filling our hearts with new and inspiring ideas: it is
exactly what we need right now.  The retreat will take place about an hour from our house on
a beautiful, secluded piece of property nestled deep in the woods.  The timing of this
retreat could not be more perfect: after a year of deep rooted trauma and tragedy, the
passing of a good friend, and preparing for our new baby, this will give us an opportunity
to release all the emotions we have been gathering along the way, to process everything
that has happened and hopefully close this chapter of our lives, preparing us to move
forward as a stronger, more connected and grounded pair.  With hearts open, hands
bound together, off we go...

Twelve Years

Twelve years ago,I married my best friend.  Of all the journeys our love has taken us on, I
feel that this was the year we learned what marriage is truly all about.  In sickness and
in health, for better or for worse, we have found ourselves clinging to one another for dear
life, willing ourselves and our love to be stronger than the tragedy that threatened to tear
us down.  I will never forget that day in the desert and the feeling I had when I thought that
I may never see my husband again.  As I knelt in the dirt and the rocks and the sand, my
legs and arms and hands covered in his blood, literally holding his life in my hands, I felt like
a piece of my heart was slowly dying right alongside his.  The man I have loved since I was
19 years old, who has taught me to love myself as much as he has loved me, was moments
away from dying and all I could do was pray and scream and will him to stay awake.  I
knew that if he died, if he left me on this earth without his companionship, I knew that part
of me would die as well.

But he didn't die.  He lived, he made it through the most horrific accident I have ever
seen. And we are so blessed to be able to celebrate yet another year of marriage together.  

Twelve years of marriage and everything has changed: everything we thought would
happen, everything we planned for came crashing down the day of the accident.  We
were stripped bare as a family, the emotional toll of this experience heavier than we
could have ever expected.  I pushed myself to the absolute limit: working to pay the
bills, caring for Shawn and his multitude of injuries, running our home, raising our girls.
And Shawn pushed himself as well, struggling to get well despite an uncertain future and
a terrible prognosis.  He has always been so strong and invincible and this accident tore
him apart both mentally and physically.  There were days when he felt like I was doing
too much and he wasn't doing enough, he felt inadequate and insecure.  And I told him,
"Your only job right now is to focus on getting better.  Until you're ready to pick up part of
the load, I've got this".

Twelve years of marriage and we have learned so much more about each other: our
strengths, our weaknesses, our deepest and darkest fears all came rushing forward.  We
yelled and screamed and cried and hurt each other, the stress and overwhelming
exhaustion sometimes getting the best of us.  But then we threw all that aside and picked
each other back up, wrapping our arms around the hope and promise that we would make
it through, one way or another.  We found strength and comfort in the constant that is
our love, believing that nothing could tear us apart, not even this.

Twelve years of marriage and I am so thankful for our friendship.  The fact that we not
only LOVE each other but we actually LIKE each other has carried us through some very
dark times.  I will never forget those late nights in the hospital: sneaking down to the
cafeteria for ice cream, cuddling up in Shawn's hospital bed, watching reality TV and
laughing so loudly that the nurses would pop their heads into our room to see what all the
fuss was about.  We experienced a new level of intimacy as I learned to shave my
husband's beard, washed the blood and pain off his body, held his broken hand as he
walked down the hall for the first time.  I experienced the deepest sense of pride as I
witnessed him fight for his life, willing himself to get through this ordeal so that he could
return home to the three women who love him.

Twelve years of marriage and we know now more than ever how precious life is,
how necessary it is to appreciate each day and live it to the fullest.  Last year, I reflected
on how much we appreciate our alone time as well as being together.  These last few
months, however, we are inseparable.  We follow each other around the house, talking
and touching and staying connected.  Not because we have to, but because we want to.
We need each other right now, we need the security of our companionship.  Never has
holding my husband's hand felt so significant: I held his hand at the accident, held it in
the hospital, I held his hand as we drove home to Louisiana, held it in dozens of
doctor's offices.  And I will continue to hold his hand as we fight through this time, fight for
our marriage and our family and the life we were given a second chance to live.  Twelve
years of marriage and I am sure of one true thing: we were always and forever meant to
be, hands bound, Shawn and Liv together.  And our story is only beginning.

Shawn Is Free

Today, Shawn got his neck brace off and the very exciting news that the fracture in his neck 
is almost completely healed.  I finally get to wrap my arms around my husband's neck, lay 
my head on his chest, and watch him smile with the sweet relief of knowing that yet 
another injury is behind us.  This weekend, we will celebrate our 12 year wedding 
anniversary.  Have I mentioned how head over heels in love I am with this handsome 
guy?  Here's to a weekend of celebration: for all that we have, for all that we are, and 
for sticking together through it all.

Husbands and Tea

Source

Late one night this week, after the girls were in bed and the house was settled, my 

husband and I met in the kitchen over a few cups of tea.  We caught up on our week, 

gave each other reminders and discussed upcoming events.  We talked about family news 

and the issues that had been weighing on our shoulders.  Eventually, the conversation 

shifted to old times, deep feelings, the thoughts that had been dancing on our 

hearts.  Somehow, we began talking about a difficult time we went through early on in 

our marriage, a time when we struggled and fought to make our relationship work.

My husband is what most people would consider the strong, silent type.  He is 

extremely sensitive, articulate, and passionate about life but he does not waste his 

emotions.  He is very careful about sharing them, ensuring that when he opens his heart 

to you, you are experiencing a genuine moment.

On this night, at our kitchen table, talking about a time in which we struggled, 

he said...

I am so sorry for all of those things I did to you.

I was wrong.

You did not deserve to be treated that way.  You are so good.

I take full responsibility for my actions.

You always stand by me, no matter what.  I see that now, looking back.

Your strength and your unconditional love carried me through.

I'll never be able to thank you enough.

Looking back on that time, I see what you did and who you are, 

and I love you for it.

As tears streamed down my face, I thanked him for this most heartfelt apology.  An 

apology that was not really needed as that time in our life is a decade past.  But, still, it 

was something I needed to know, to hear, and it meant the world to me.

He asked me why I was crying, didn't I already know those things?  He was amazed 

that those words could mean so much to me.  He was sure that I knew them to be 

true already.

Sometimes, as women, we need to hear it.  We need to hear you say those words.  To 

witness your vulnerability as you open up your heart and bare your soul and stand up.  

I've always known those words to be true, but to hear them come from the mouth of the 

man I love made me feel like I could dance across water.  

My husband and I were brought closer that night because of those words, that moment, 

the hour at the kitchen table over a few cups of tea.  We put work into our marriage that 

we do not always have the courage to do.  And that is what it will take, for the rest of 

this lifetime, to continue loving one another.  Admitting wrongs, making them right, 

staring each other in the eyes and saying the words that need to be said.  Such is the 

beauty of the journey of marriage.  Humility, patience, and love.  

All over a few cups of tea.

Sweet Friday

In a few hours, Shawn and I are leaving for our first overnight trip since Brees was born.
We are headed to New Orleans for our annual trip to the Voodoo Music Experience,
an amazing festival held in City Park featuring bands of every genre imaginable.  This
year, we will be rocking out to the iconic band Soundgarden, a favorite of ours since we
were 14 years old.  We plan to eat at a few of our favorite restaurants, meet up with
old friends, and enjoy the freedom of just being together.

The excitement doesn't still the anxiety I am feeling over leaving our girls.  My heart
starts racing every time I think about going to bed and not being able to kiss them
goodnight.  It's only one night, I tell myself.  You deserve this, your marriage deserves
this.  But a mother's heart is the master of guilt.  Somewhere along the line, I developed
this sense of reasoning that taking time for myself was selfish, that doing anything that
didn't involve my kids was gluttonous and wrong.  I don't know why, it just
naturally happened.  Have you ever felt that way?

But I'm pushing all of that aside right now, I vow not to ruin this amazing opportunity
by being anxious and upset.  Shawn and I are about to load up our car and hit the
open highway, New Orleans bound.  We have a playlist with all of our favorite songs ready
to go, bags packed, babies well taken care of.  And tonight, when we are swaying under
the stars to the sounds of "Burden In My Hand", Shawn's arms wrapped around me, I
will take a deep breathe and know that my children are loved and cherished.  We will
return home tomorrow refreshed and revived and they will have better parents for it.

Here's to kicking guilt and worry to the curb.  We've earned it.

Love

Eleven years ago, I married my best friend.  We eloped in Las Vegas with only two of
our best friends in attendance.  The idea of escaping to the desert and keeping this life
changing ritual all to ourselves was incredibly romantic to us.  I wore a white dress
that Shawn's late grandmother bought for me, my own grandmother's ring on my little
finger.  We recited the vows spoken by couples in love for thousands of years, our eyes
locked and our souls connected.  Shawn sang our favorite song to me under the stars
after carrying me out of the little white chapel.  We danced under the big Nevada moon
and called each other by our new names: husband and wife.

Eleven years later, I love him a thousand times more than I did on that night in Las
Vegas.  We have seen each other through years of growth and change, dreams manifested
and heartache realized.  We have made each other laugh, brushed tears from each
other's cheeks.  We've rejoiced over our greatest accomplishments, been crushed
by devastating disappointments.  But we did it all, together.  When the day seemed
darkest and impossible, we stood firm and fought the roughest seas.
Together.

Eleven years of marriage and we bought our first home.  Our very own dream house,
an endless assortment of home improvement projects and trips to the hardware store.
We have renovated almost every room of this home ourselves.  Together.  It is our pride
and joy, our blood sweat and tears, a decade of money saving and dream wishing
come true.

Eleven years of marriage and we are parents to Isabelle and Brees.  They are everything
to us, two little angels we used to dream about before we were even married.  We've
always wanted a family, always talked about kids.  And here we are, giving bubble baths
and wiping noses, one more story before bed and piggy back rides down the stairs.  We
want more, but will be satisfied with whatever God blesses us with.  Life is busy with
growing careers and two little girls wanting all of us, but we are learning the fine art
of balance, one day at a time.

Eleven years of marriage and he still makes me laugh, still drives me crazy, still makes
me raise my voice when I know I shouldn't.  He has become much more reserved, I
have become much more confident.  We are both more slow to anger, more careful with
our words.  We have learned to pick our battles, accepted that you can not change a person
in who they are.  I need to become more patient, he needs to work on letting his
pride rest.  Eleven years of marriage and we have learned to value our own
individual alone time.  We appreciate not having to be together all the time and have
settled into a place of contentment with ourselves.  We have a lot of shared interests
and spend way too much time talking about music, football, and Home Depot.
In that order.
We are each other's biggest fans.

Eleven years and we are wise enough to know that the words "easy" and "marriage" do
not belong in the same sentence.  We work for everything we have, keeping our eyes on
the prize and our minds focused on what's real and true.  When we fall on hard times and
lose sight of each other, one of us takes the brunt and pulls the other back up.  And we
never forget the words we spoke on the night we promised ourselves to each other: I want
to walk this earth with you.  Hand in hand, one experience after another, little hands
relying on us to lead them through.
Walking this earth together.

I love you, Shawn Scott.
Thank you for letting me be my own free bird and loving me for it.

An Evolution

While I was sick and under the weather this weekend, I caught up on my gossip
magazines and all the enlightenment that goes along with.  I read an interview with
Katy Perry, the lovely pop star whom Isabelle thinks is a real life Barbie, where she
credits the "success" of her marriage to the fact that she does not even OWN yoga pants.
Her relationship is the picture of emotional health due to the fact that she is always
perfectly sexy for her man and NEVER desecrates her body with such deal breaking pieces
as jersey knit pants and t-shirts.

I took one long, hard look at myself in the mirror, ELEVEN years into my married life,
and let out a huge laugh!  According to Katy Perry, Shawn and I must be doomed!

Here's a look into the evolution of our marriage, as told through my pajamas:

1.  The early years

In the beginning, it was all about lace nighties and silky underthings.  These were the days
of waking up first and hurrying to brush my teeth before Shawn realized that my
breathe smelled less than ideal in the morning.  This was back when Shawn didn't know
that I, like other humans, pooped, got bikini waxes, and could eat a dozen doughnuts in
one sitting.  I was super wife: perfect and totally put together at all times!  This was the
time of getting to know each other, living together day in and day out and figuring out
who we really were, both as a couple and as individuals.

2.  Getting to know you, the REAL you

I eventually dropped the "perfect woman" facade because, well, it was ridiculous.
This man loved me for who I was, not because I was some perfectly hairless,
body odorless, gastrointestinally challenged Barbie.  I started wearing pajama sets:
pants with matching tops, cute tanks and silky shorts.  They were cute and sexy yet
much more comfortable and practical.  Because who really wants to watch Monday
night football in a negligee?  And, amazingly enough, Shawn still loved me!  He still told me
on a regular basis how beautiful I was, regardless of the fact that my butt cheeks were
no longer hanging out the back of my jammies!  This was the time of becoming
more comfortable with myself, less insecurities and more self-love.  Believing in myself
and learning what was really important in life and love.

3.  Diapers and breast pads and vomit: Oh my!

 And here we are today, eleven years in: 4 pets, 3 college degrees, 2 kids, and 1 house
later.  My pajamas currently consist of the softest, easiest to pull up and down pants I can
find (for those nights when you have to use the bathroom while simultaneously holding
a baby) and Shawn's ratty old t-shirts (because they are so big, they are easy to just pull
up for a baby who is still breast feeding every 3-4 hours throughout the night).  It's all
about function and comfort and wearing things that can endure leaky boobs and baby
spit-up.  This is real life, people.  This is the time of growing from a girl to a woman,
knowing exactly who I am and being completely comfortable in my own skin,
celebrating every part of ourselves, even the not so glamorous sides. 

And so, as I looked at myself in the mirror in my cut-off Tool shirt from the 1998 tour,
I kind of wanted to call Katy Perry and assure her that the success of her marriage
has NOTHING to do with her pajamas or whether or not she wears yoga pants.
Because, inevitably, your husband is going to eventually see you at your worst.  He's the
one who's going to hold your hair back when you get food poisoning from your
favorite Chinese restaurant, he's the one who's going to help you hold your legs up
spread eagle as you birth his baby, he'll be right by your side when your toddler
projectile vomits into your bed in the middle of the night, he'll run to the store for you
to purchase giant maxi-pads.  If he's a good husband, that is.
And you'll do all the same for him.  

After 11 years together, many trials and tribulations under our belts, growing and
learning and living life alongside one another, the "success" of our marriage can be
attributed to one thing: hard work.  Every single day, in sickness and in health, bed head
and bad breathe: it's all about showing up and giving 100%.  Our marriage survives
not because of what we look like on the outside, but because we have a deep rooted
mutual respect, trust, and acceptance of one another.  I may not look my sexiest right
now, but my husband loves me all the same.  He tells me so often: how beautiful I am
when I'm nursing our baby in the early morning light, how gorgeous I look making his
favorite french toast with his two daughters playing in my feet, how happy it makes him
that I know just as much about football as he does, how pretty my voice is when I sing
along to his guitar.  These are the things about me he sees: not what I wear to bed.  These
are the qualities that bind us together and make our love real.  And as I look back on
the evolution of my pajamas, I see a relationship that has grown in strength and truth, a
life that has been built on real experience.  This is real life: working 40 hours a week,
taking care of kids, cooking and cleaning, tending a garden, walking dogs, Girl Scouts
and dance class.  And in between all of that living, we are happy to steal a few
moments together whenever we can.  At the end of the day, when we rest in each
other's arms, we are well aware of the fact that things aren't exactly how they used to
be.  We're both a little chubbier, a tad bit frumpier, a few more lines forming around the
eyes.  But we are in love, we are shooting for forever, and these things come with the
package.  We accept each other, every ounce of it.
These days, it's come as you are, old band shirts accepted.

Hospital Story of the Week

I had the honor of caring for an 85 year old Army two time war veteran this week.  He
was the sweetest, funniest patient I have had in a while and I found excuses to go into
his room all day.  I sat with him as he ate his lunch, listening to his stories about being
stationed in Germany during World War II and raising crops of corn while his small
children ran under their mother's skirt.  When he was done eating, I helped him stand
up from his chair and maneuver back into his bed.  He was very weak, his big
heart overworked and his body tired.  I wrapped my arms around his waist and held
him steady, our cheeks side by side as I encouraged him to take his time, reassuring him
that I was holding on tight.  

"It's like we're dancing", he said quietly, patting me softly on my back.

"We sure are.  Nurses love to dance, you know", I said with a wink.

After a few moments of swaying back and forth, catching his breathe and regaining
his balance, I got my sweet patient comfortably back in bed.  "I used to love to dance.  I
can't tell you how many nights I spent dancing with my wife: in the kitchen after supper,
out in our yard, at my daughter's wedding.  We used to love to dance.  It's one of the joys
I miss the most about being young and healthy, being able to move and tap my feet.  One
of the things I miss most about my wife, seeing her float across the floor".

I felt a lump in my throat, my heart swelling as I listened to him reminisce about one of
life's most simple pleasures.  I sat down next to him again, forgetting about the hundreds
of other tasks I needed to get to, and listened to him tell me about his wife of 50 years
and their many adventures together.  He told me about teaching his daughter to dance
before her first prom, showing his son the proper way to hold a woman during a waltz.
He proudly told of his wife's grace and charm and how she always insisted on leading,
causing him to occasionally step on her delicate feet.  I listened to his stories and saw his
pride beam brighter than the sun pouring through the window, remembering his body and
its abilities.

He eventually grew tired and drifted off to sleep.  I imagine he dreamed of floating
through the clouds with his lady, two stepping the day away.  As I left his room, I reflected
on my own love for dance and the many memories I already have of moving back and forth
to my favorite songs, the nights under the stars, in the kitchen, little girls standing on top
of their Daddy's feet.  After work that night, when Shawn and I had put the girls to bed
and the day's responsibilities were done, I reached for his hand and said,
"Dance with me".

"Right now?" he asked, most likely surprised that I even had any energy left after such
a long day.  

"Yes, right now".  As we floated in each other's arms across the kitchen floor, lazily swaying
to the beat of our favorite Black Keys song, I told him the story of my dancing patient.
I shared the inspiration this man had blessed me with, the simplicity of his
message resonating so deep inside my soul.  He held me close, listening intently, taking
in the moment.  And we danced, as we have done so many times in our years together.  

We danced.

 I learn so much from my patients, mostly about life and its fragility, how quickly it truly
does pass by.  From this particular patient, I took with me the reminder to enjoy the
simple pleasures.  To take my man by the hand as often as possible and sway and groove
and rock to the beat, to grab my little girls and swing them around in the moonlight.  I
took with me the advice to stop what you are doing when your favorite song comes on,
wrap your arms around the person you love, and dance.
For no other reason than because you can.

Life Was Good Today

Yesterday, Shawn and I shared a day off work together.  He is currently enjoying a few weeks off from school until the summer semester of school starts.  I can not even explain how wonderful it feels to see my husband relax, to see him smile and know that he is getting rest and taking some well-deserved time off.

We woke up early, cooked breakfast, and sent a very cheerful Isabelle off to school.  We lingered over our tea and coffee and caught the morning news.  Brees woke up and joined us on the couch for some early morning cuddling.  It's always nice when you get to spend alone time with one of your children, allowing all of your focus and energy to be placed on them, giving them all of your attention.

We deemed this a "no work" day, instead spending time on the things we love.  We caught up on our reading, played guitar, enjoyed shrimp po-boys for lunch, and visited a local antique store I've been dying to explore.  I'm getting better about balancing my time, working my way into a groove since becoming a mother for the second go 'round.  Opening our hearts and lives to another little girl meant that certain things had to be put on the back burner for a while, we had to slow down and reconfigure our lives.  But the dust is settling, this family is riding smooth, and we are learning the fine art of mixing work and pleasure.

  We are a work in progress, learning as we go.  That's why I treasure days such as these, when I feel like we got it right.  When my heart tells me that I've made everyone feel loved, that I've expressed myself creatively and spent my time doing things I am passionate about, when I've allowed myself to enjoy this life I have been blessed with.  I can sit back and really say:  Life was good today.