It's no secret that my marriage isn't perfect. We've had so many ups and downs from day one that it is only by the grace of God that we are still together. But we've made it here... to 8 and a half years and I have no plans to give up any time soon. For some reason he's still around as well. And just when I spend every moment of every day questioning whether or not he loves me, or why he would love me, or how much longer he's going to let himself love me... he'll come along and do something that just makes me feel like... well... hmmm... a jerk?
Yesterday the kids and I packed up and went to visit our good friends. It's a day trip to go see them because they are nearly an hour away. As I was getting ready to leave I realized that I'd forgotten to start the dishwasher and I had expressed to the Captain that I had wanted him to unload the dishes. So I started the load and he said that he'd empty it later after they had dried. Fine. Great. I leave and go about my day. A little ticked off at him, again, for planning his third hiking trip since March for this coming week. When was I going to get to go do something fun with my friends? Or better yet, why had he not planned another date for us but he had planned another stupid hiking trip? Clearly I was not important to him. He didn't care and wasn't willing to put forth the effort. Blah blah blah blah blah. I'm exhausted just thinking about the mental whining I had going on.
Then I come home after a nice relaxing, toddler free day with my friend. Hunter had behaved well. Ronin had behaved well. Drayken probably behaved well but I didn't really care because I'd dropped him off with his grandparents. I had sold two pounds of chocolate while I was gone and I'd had real face to face time with an adult I actually like. Cool.
I was tired when I got home and I'd been dreading having to finish up chores around the house when what I really wanted to do was crash on the sofa and watch "30 Rock".
I spent several hours of the late afternoon/early evening realizing all of the things the man had done around the house. He'd folded and put away laundry. He'd unloaded the dishwasher. He'd washed and dried another load of laundry. And he'd scrubbed the gunk out of the bottom of a pan in which I'd cooked and slightly burned some quinoa the night before. Mind you, the man had worked all night and was also going to work again last night. But he still took the time to do these things. For me. He certainly did not have to do them. No one would fault him for not doing them. And he surely didn't expect anything in return because by now he should know me better than that.
Eventually I will learn to just accept this man at face value. One day God will smack me around enough to where I say, "Fine. I get him. He's sorry for any way that he wronged me at the turn of the century and now he's just here wanting to be my husband." But until then, I pray that he won't give up on me. I'd not begrudge similar prayers on my behalf from my readers as well.