How Do You Know (You Love Him)?

I recently happened upon a random blog that mainly discusses dating and all sorts of pre-marital relationship stuff. (All very interesting; made me gladder than ever that I have never had to navigate any sort of dating scene. Ugh and shudder.)  In one of the posts, after admitting that it has occurred to him that he is afraid of falling out of love if he ever gets married, the blog author posits two questions to his readers: What is the key to a successful marriage, and How do you know you still love your spouse?

The first one is kind of a loaded question, with myriad possible responses about love, commitment, loyalty, sacrifice, compromise, being in it for the long haul, and the like. If I really wanted to sum it up in a sound byte, though, (and you can trust me since I've been married now for a whopping 11 years) I think I would say this: Be awesome. Marry someone awesome. Work like crazy to become even more awesome together than you were apart. Pass that awesomeness on to your kids. Easy peasy, right?

Even though it sounds like it shouldn't be, the second question is a little trickier, because how do you really answer that? I asked Craig what he thought and he said, in typical guy fashion, "Well, wouldn't you just know?" Well, yes, I suppose you know, but how do you know that you know? Does staying together always mean that you love your spouse? Does having kids together? Does spending time together? Talking? Laughing? I believe those things are all super important, imperative parts of a healthy, loving relationship, but is that all there is? And, do they always mean what we think they mean?

I am a girl that likes to meticulously take complicated questions apart to examine them at length until I can come up with something that really makes sense to me. And this question is so intriguing to me that I am determined to come up with my own personalized answer. So, in an attempt to put clumsy feelings into clumsier words, I have come up with a top-five list of ways that I know, without any doubt, that I love my husband.

#1 I can't get enough of him

Perhaps this has to do with the fact that he is gone all day, or that I am home with kids all day, or that our weekends are rarely utilized for spending any amount of quality time together, but the fact remains: when it comes to seeing, talking to, sitting by, or hanging out with Craig, I am never satiated. It feels like any time that we do have together is spent playing catch-up, in a desperate, impossible attempt to make up for whatever time we have lost in being apart. To make it even more fun, I am also competing with four other little humans who are vying for the same thing, (for real, you should see how he gets bombarded the second he walks in the door) and we are all trying to fill our jugs at the same time. But that's just it; my jug leaks, and no matter how much time I have with him, it never feels enough.

#2 He knows me (and loves me anyway)

This will sound cliche, but that doesn't make it any less true: Craig knows me better than I know myself. He knows what makes me tick, what makes me happy, nervous, stressed, excited, calm. He knows when to step in and help, and when to stand back and let me rant and rave and figure things out on my own. He knows, from a simple look or inflection of my voice, how my day has been, and he always responds accordingly. He knows my hang-ups, my many faults and weaknesses, my ridiculous shortcomings. And he still loves me. So much that he pretends that all of those things aren't even there, even though we both know the truth.

#3 He cracks me up

I know that humor may not necessarily be a part of every loving couple's existence, but it is for ours. Growing up in a sometimes contentious household, humor was always an important outlet for me as a kid. And while I have been blessed with a home as an adult where peace and love generally prevail, there are also very stressful moments where humor is a lifesaver. Craig is hilarious. He banters with me all the live-long day, makes cracks that bring tears to my eyes, and throws out yo' mama jokes like nobody's business. He makes me smile, chuckle, laugh, and bust a gut all dang day and I love him for it.

#4 He is my biggest supporter

In 11 years of marriage, I have been through four pregnancies and childbirths, almost ten years of college, 62 months of breastfeeding, multiple demanding callings and responsibilities in our church, five years of blogging, multiple occasions of card club and book club meetings, and one hare-brained scheme to become some sort of runner after countless years of, well, not running. I can say, without a trace of exaggeration or embellishment, that Craig has supported me in every single endeavor. I could not count the number of times that I have heard him say the words, "You know I support you in whatever you want to do." He says it. And he does it. From dealing with kids so I can get things done, to literally helping me make cards for card club, to kicking me out of the house so I can get a break, to letting me sleep in on weekends, to just being there and listening while I gripe and moan and freak out, he is truly an expert at sustaining and supporting me in every single thing I do.

#5 I just know

I am not hard-pressed to come up with reasons that I love Craig; whether or not I still love him is anything but a mystery to me. I was crazy about him when we first got married and I know without any doubt that that love has only become more comfortable, wonderful, fierce, deep, and strong as the years have gone by. It was fun and refreshing and validating to come up with the how I know that I love him, but when it comes down to it, I suppose the most important thing is that I know.

I mean, come on, what's not to love?

More Summertime Lyric-Swapping

The girls' summer vacation has descended upon us like a thief in the night. We are three weeks in, and so far I have managed to hold it together. (I have also managed to spend about half of every day with the broom in my hand, to somehow ignore the mounting layers of fingerprints on the refrigerator door, AND to go on a few outings to the swimming pool, once with an extra kid in tow.) It helps that the girls have had some very great moments of cooperative work and play, which contributes to the overall feeling of enjoyment that I've been able to derive from their all-day hugs, shenanigans, and humor.

It hasn't all been easy, though. There are wonderful moments, but there are many overwhelming ones as well. In fact, after the second straight day of air conditioning duct work in our house last week that meant that workers were in and out of the house all day, that we couldn't go anywhere for those two days, and that I had to put Spencer down for (terrible) naps in the playpen in the downstairs office, I pretty much ran out of the house when Craig got home from work and had to calm my nerves by making some purchases at my second favorite store. (And that is really saying something for me. I am not typically a stress-shopper, but sometimes desperate times call for a trip to Ross, people.)

Anyhow, as I have looked over the colossal messes that my children have managed to make in these three short weeks, and pondered on the quickness with which arguments have the tendency to escalate into screaming matches, I keep thinking to myself, "well, this is summer." That thought, of course, gets John Lennon's, "So This is Christmas" in my head, which has naturally prompted me to come up with a summertime version of the one Christmas song I hate so much that it almost has the power to ruin Christmas for me entirely. But alas, it was an easy target, and I am low on ideas for things to say that don't involve the current pandemonium that is my life.

Well, here you go. (And I apologize sincerely in advance if this terrible song gets stuck in your head all dang day. It really should be banned from Christmas entirely.)

So this is summer
And what have you done?
You're not even dressed yet
And it's already 1.
And so this is summer
Are you living in fear?
With all of these kiddos
Aged 1 to 9 years.

Have a very happy summer,
And try not to stress.
While they clean out your pantry
And bring new heights to "mess."

And so this is summer--
You're stronger than you think.
Oh man it's a good thing
You don't even drink.
And so happy summer,
Though you don't think you're strong,
And the nights go like lightning
While the days drag along

Have a very happy summer
And try not to cry
While they're rearranging furniture
And ignoring your sighs

And so this is summer (school is over)
You're doing your best (you're on your own)
Making them lunches (school is over)
And getting them dressed (holy cra-ap)
And so happy summer; (school is over)
It's too hot to go outside (you're on your own)
Your patience is shattered, (school is over)
Your nerves all but fried (now)

Have a very happy summer
It's going to be okay
The new school year's coming...
It's only 7 weeks away

School is over, you're on your own
School is over now


(Here's hoping your summer is equal parts pleasant and crazy!)

Multi-Tasker

See? If you can figure out a way to drive both cars at the same time, then you don't have to pick.

Too bad more things in life don't work out this way...

The Absolutely True Story of a Part-Time Laundry Lady*

Well friends, I'm doing something shameless. My sister Cyndie, who is mercifully blogging again after an almost unbearable hiatus, mentioned that she was thinking of doing a version of One Direction's "The Story of My Life" based on common Mommy dilemmas like endless laundry and dishes in the sink. So...

I fixated.

And then I totally copied her idea.

Hers is way more funny, I can tell you, and you can read it here. I promise you will love it. And, if you can forgive me for capitalizing on someone else's genius idea, you can read mine below. 

Laundry is, after all, the very real, very true, very endless, story of this girl's life.

The Story of My Life

Sitting in these hampers, the clothes have been piling up for days.

They're nearly over-flowing, which means that it must be Monday.

I'm sick of doing laundry, so tired that I feel it in my bones.

"She did her best to keep up;" these words will be written on my stone.

So I'll be washing for hours.

All these clothes that smell like something sour.

Laundry soap, and Downy, dryer sheets,

Until it's all complete.

The story of my life,

I wash 6 loads

I dry them all,

and then I fold and fold.

It's lau-au-aundry day.

The story of my life,

all I can think:

"can't dry those shirts,

or they'll totally shrink."

The story of my life.

Sitting in these hampers, are stinky clothes that I have to touch.

Don't leave your socks balled-up please, I swear that it's not asking much.

If change were in your pockets, you know that I would steal it from you;

But sadly all that's in there are Barbie shoes, and sand, and lint, and goo.

So I'll be washing for hours.

All those clothes that smell like something sour.

Laundry soap, and Downy, then repeat,

Until it's all complete.

The story of my life,

I wash 6 loads

I dry them all,

and then I fold and fold.

It's lau-au-aundry day.

The story of my life,

I'm almost done,

but wait, your pants have rocks--

they weigh a ton.

The story of my life.

And then the clothes will sit for days 'til you put them away;

Make sure I get the baskets back by next Monday.

The story of my life,

I wash 6 loads

I dry them all,

and then I fold and fold.

It's lau-au-aundry day.

The story of my life,

and don't you dare

fill your hamper

with your clean underwear

The story of my life.

The story of my li-i-i-i-ife

The story of my li-i-i-i-ife

The story of my life.

*Points and props to whoever can tell me where I totally ripped-off this title.
 And no, Laura, you don't get to guess; I already know you know it. ;)