For my girls (and a little bit for me), PART 3

3. Describe your relationship with your spouse.

Girls, it is not a secret that your Daddy was not my first husband or the first person with whom I shared a great deal of emotion and history. However, I can honestly and without a shred of shadowy doubt tell you he is the first person I have genuinely loved.

Do we have a perfect relationship? No.

We don’t always agree, and we like different things. I dislike things he likes. He dislikes things I like. We drive each other crazy sometimes, and he probably thinks the road to Crazy Town is a very short trip for me.

As you girls will know some day (if you don’t already), I’m a little obsessive-compulsive about things your Daddy takes totally in stride. He doesn’t pick up after himself as often as I think he should. When he shaves, he doesn’t get all the hair out of the sink. He thinks things are funny that I think aren’t even remotely amusing, and he has a tendency to start projects that never get finished. His list of wants and to-do’s expands practically daily and gets checked off only occasionally.

He takes too long in the bathroom. While on breaks from work, he sets out to do great things and gets sidetracked with Internet searches, DVR’ed shows, naps and general slackerosity. He snores. He does hit-or-miss impressions that I never think are funny and he always thinks are spot-on. Because of what I have deemed an unfortunately unavoidable and excessive amount of spit tumbling around with his food, I can’t stay in the room with him sometimes when he eats because he makes too much noise.

Do any of these things make him a bad person or less lovable? Absolutely not.

I am a constant picker-upper, so I usually pick up his stuff when I’m picking up mine (which doesn’t always get picked up immediately either).

To his credit, he has started doing a much better job cleaning up after he shaves, and he probably does a better job than most guys.

My sense of humor can be a bit skewed, so things he finds funny are probably funny to other people, even if they aren’t funny to me.

As far as his ever-growing list of untackled projects, I can’t hold that against him either. My own father took years (maybe even decades) to finish projects that were started when we first moved into the house in Crossett. Also, it’s hard for me to judge that based on my own actions because I am a see-it-and-go-after-it person. There is not a lot of downtime between my deciding to do something and actually going to work on it. I can’t fault your Daddy for being more of a planner and less of a doer. It’s just who he is.

And, yes, believe it or not, we usually laugh about my weirdness about food and the sounds people make when they eat. Your Uncle Jake and I are pretty sure we both have what’s known as misophonia, so I can’t really blame Daddy for upsetting me with his noises and excess spit. He can’t change that any more than I can change how crazy it makes me. He isn’t smacking, and his manners aren’t completely hideous. It’s really my problem, not his.

Before you think I believe all the imperfect bends in the road lie solely with Daddy, let me say that I am far from perfect in this relationship. I don’t always make time to spend one-on-one with your Daddy. We talk about date nights but rarely make that happen. When we do, we spend most of our time talking about you girls and wondering what you’re doing. I suppose that comes with the territory when you have three precious princesses at home, but I could definitely do a better job of focusing on him and not solely on you.

My sarcasm has required a bit of a learning period for Daddy. I don’t mean to hurt his feelings, but I know there have been times when I did. Also, I am not comfortable with my body, so I’m reluctant to be as openly free with showing it and accentuating the better parts as Daddy would like. You will probably grow up seeing me more in T-shirts and yoga pants than dresses, heels and form-displaying clothes because I seek comfort over attention. The less I make people look at me, the less I have to worry about their actually seeing the person I have shaped up to be. Your Daddy thinks every inch of me is beautiful, and it makes him crazy that I don’t agree.

But at the end of the day, none of that matters.

What matters is that I found someone with whom I choose to raise my children. I have found someone who makes me look forward to old age and the inevitability of an empty nest. He makes me laugh, and he is my best friend. We share countless private jokes and love to be silly together, but we can be serious when we need to be, especially when it comes to things that affect our three girls.

In spite of all our patience-charring quirks, we love each other. We have been married for nearly five years, and each year that passes is better than the one before.

Is it perfect? Nope.

Will it ever be? I hope not.

The imperfections keep things interesting. Plus, every little weirdness or disagreement gives us a chance to know each other better and to figure out how to work together despite our differences.

And then, of course, there’s the chance to be lovey and make up, but that’s something we’ll talk about outside the blog when you’re older.

Or maybe we won’t.

I never talked about that stuff with Nana and Papa, and I’m pretty sure I hatched from an egg. Yeah. Let’s go with that…

Anyway…

All I ask is that if and when you find yourself heading down the aisle with the person who makes such a significant difference in your life that you can overlook the quirks and build a Life together, keep in mind the things that bind your Daddy and me – love, respect and laughter.

And remember what Nana told me standing in the bride’s room right before my first wedding: “It’s not too late.” I told her it was too late. It wasn’t. And it will never be too late for you to make the right choices either.

I eventually found your Daddy, and I am blessed by the mightily broken road I took to get to him. The mistakes I made allowed me to grow as a person and to embrace how quietly awesome he is. If not for the path I took, I might not have appreciated how truly wonderful and perfect for me he is. Hopefully, you won’t make as many mistakes as I did, but if you do, I pray you find someone like your Daddy. He isn’t perfect, and neither am I.

But we are perfect for each other.

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About Rebecca Mixon

If you attend my funeral, please wear red. Make sure my loved ones do not bury me in shoes, and make sure they don't let the undertaker make me look ridiculous. I want beautiful music and lots of storytelling. All that will be great once I'm gone from this Earth. But, while I'm here, give me my flowers while I live. It has come to my attention lately that we don't "give people their flowers" until it's too late for them to enjoy the beauty, the colors, the sentiment. I'm changing that. The people in my life will know how they are appreciated and loved, and they will smell the aroma of their flowers as often as I get the chance to tell them. This blog is about the blessings in my life. Mainly, it's about the people who keep my world spinning on a good axis and help me realize that work, bills and stress mean nothing. Family counts. The rest is just gravy.
This entry was posted in Blessings, Blog, Children, Daughters, Family, fun, Husband, Life, Marriage, Raising children, Raising girls, Relationships, Uncategorized, Writing and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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