Today was my eleventh wedding anniversary. Elevendy if you live in my house. Elevendy is a made up word the Hubbs and I heard one time on a TV show. We thought it was funny then, and it became a unit of measurement whehen something was overwhelming or just too much to handle. How much is dance this month? Elevendy. What how long did that PTC meeting last? Elevendy.
How many years have we been married?
We celebrated by one of us going to a golf tournament and the other of us going to a dance competition. The Hubbs met us at the competition later, but the true testament to how long you've been married to someone is when you both realize that it's just not in the cards to celebrate properly. Dinner plans? Out the window. For the record I ate scrambled eggs at eight thirty tonight. Him? I don't think he even ate. The kids? Huh? There was no banner or flowers or cards. There was a happy anniversary and an I love you and when are we putting these damn kids to bed.
I'm not even sad about it. You shouldn't be either.
It sounds dreadful, especially if you're not married yet and are still waiting for your Prince Charming. I hear that. I feel that. My eleventh anniversary hasn't been very romantic, it will never inspire any bodice ripping romance novels. But it should inspire you.
For my eleventh anniversary I've gotten the gift of comfort. The gift of contentment. I've received the gift of all is well in this world, and I can lay my head on my pillow knowing that there isn't a diamond big enough to trump that. When you love a person with your whole self, love them despite flaws and irritations, when you put your heart on that thin, wobbly line, and they actually love you back... That's priceless. That's romantic. That is fucking marriage.
In the past years I've seen my share of five year anniversary bands, and more recently ten year anniversary bands. I smile. I congratulate. I say all the things that need to be said. And I'll admit that i look down and realize that I don't have an anniversary band for those kinds of things. Or any jewelry for that matter. For a minute I'll be jealous. For two minutes I'll be sad. Then I'll slap myself for the things I do have.
My five year anniversary band is six this year. She is full of spunk and personality. She will bust your balls in two minutes of meeting you. She is more precious than diamonds. I spent my fifth anniversary thankful for my life after a terrible labor and delivery. When the Hubbs asked what I wanted to do to commemorate our five year I said, "Sleep". And that is exactly what I got. I was so grateful for that.
On my tenth wedding anniversary I didn't get a band, but what I did get was the satisfaction of still being married. The comfort of having a mortgage and two healthy children. On my tenth anniversary I was thankful that we did the thing in the church and stuck to our guns. That we still loved each other enough to fight like crazy well into the night about Obama or abortion or how much money I spent at Target. On my tenth anniversary I had the comfort in knowing, that still after all these years my husband still wanted to be married to me and believed that our lives would be dramatically improved if I started sleeping naked.
So here I am, on a Saturday night, nine twenty, and eleven years married. Eleven years ago the party was just getting good. People were drinking more than the bar tenders could pour. It was fantastic. Tonight, I'm typing away, a little ode to marriage and love, thinking that I really should put the kids to bed so I can actually spend time with my husband on our anniversary. How romantic it will be to lay next to him while we send each other memes on Instagram while Sports Center plays in the back ground. Which is probably my favorite date night at this point.
Marriage is the most fantastic thing I will ever do. The hardest, but also the most rewarding. Every day I look at my wedding ring and think about all those years I waited for it. Dreamed about it. Not so much the ring, but what it symbolized. It symbolized that John Crutchfield finally chose me. He finally got the good sense to love me back, no longer fighting what was already decided that terribly hot night in July 1999. My ring, this marriage, they symbolize that fight, that journey to here, where we can absolutely spend our anniversary busy as all get out.
It doesn't have to be romantic. It just has to stick. Love is funny that way.
Happy Anniversary Absolute Hubbs. It's always been you.