Today is Big Bubba Brett’s birthday. Last week marked four years of us being together and yesterday marked three months of being married (a tiny marriage). We realized we were three months in while laying in a pile watching a show about Russian assassins. “We’re nailing it!” Brett shouted. We discussed how long we thought it would be until things felt mundane and we wondered the shelf life of different giddy things for different couples. We discussed each of our couple friends and placed wagers on when they would get engaged and estimates on the arrival of their first child. We discussed at what point we thought we’d stop discussing things and who would let themself go first and what sorts of things we’ll fight about someday.
I wondered why any of it has to go mundane at all and if it’s something you can actively avoid with great efforts or if it’s an inevitability of human nature. Certainly I don’t want things to go average anymore than I want Brett to see me as a roommate. How could he ever grow tired of my particular brand of morning breath?
We reckoned that the older you are when you get married the less likely you are to get used to things so quickly, for you’ve lived a good while without that other person and suddenly they’re in your face, messing up the way you like things done but also, suddenly they’re in your face, available for chats and meals and helping spice up your laundry folding routine or the way you’ve always brewed your tea. Brett spent the first third his life without me so surely having a hairy, joke-crackin’ woman around will take some getting used to.
I still sit with Grace and Pippa, staring out the window at 5:45 waiting for Brett to get home. It’s the best part of all three of our day. I spent the first quarter of my life without an excitable giant kicking down my door at the end of the day chasing me around for bear hugs. Surely that won’t get old. Right….right?
And fine, he doesn’t come home everyday squealing maniacal hee-hees. Sometimes he comes in completely exhausted and sets his crap down on a table I just cleared off and he lies down on the floor with the dogs. And fine, my brain will note that he hugged the girls before he hugged me and that he set his crap down on that table I just cleared off, but even still, I get my hugs, we share a meal, and then we wind up in a pile watching tv or reading or chatting about silly things or frustrating things and it’s still the best part of my day. I’ll hate for him to ever not be the best part of my day.
Here I meant to be writing a birthday post and look at my trailing thoughts. Big Bubba Brett is the happiest thing, as a whole, altogether; a cheerful and optimistic big thinker with lots of dad-jokes and adventurous cooking habits. In four years time I’ve watched him make careful decisions and be strict with himself to help build the life he wanted himself to live. Every week he has a new tactic for developing good habits and his endless quest for self-improvement drives me nuts only because it points out my own disregard for self-improvement. Brett is spoiling me and indulging me and something about being married to a person makes the sweet things they do seem even sweeter. Nothing is all that different. I don’t think “married” has a feeling. It’s still Brett and Laura doing Brett and Laura things. I realized how anti-climactic getting married is almost as soon as the buzz of the wedding day fun died down.
“Well wait a minute. Nothing’s different!”
Being married is an awful lot like not being married. Short of sharing my space with the jolly green giant and two dogs, being married is just means that things aren't always where you left them and/or there are messes that you didn't make that you're aren't necessarily unresponsible for cleaning up.
But now that a tiny smidge of time has passed, I see that it is different somehow. I mean, it’s not – but your brain takes note of things from a different perspective - almost a judgmental one, eyeing every little thing he does underneath the lens of “for the rest of my life.” I think the difference is that you start regarding that person as your spouse and it makes you slightly more patient and flexible and even more grateful when they do things to help you. Every morning Brett puts just the right amount of cream and sugar into the bottom of a mug so that when I get up, (just moments behind him, thank you) I just have to add coffee and I have a perfect cup. This is so unnecessary and kind. I realized that something like this when you’re dating a person would make you think, “Oh he’s so sweet… and probably trying to win me over.” but when you’re married to them and they do this you think, “They really do love me.” and that’s what makes being married ever so slightly different.
Being married is an awful lot like not being married. Short of sharing my space with the jolly green giant and two dogs, being married is just means that things aren't always where you left them and/or there are messes that you didn't make that you're aren't necessarily unresponsible for cleaning up.
But now that a tiny smidge of time has passed, I see that it is different somehow. I mean, it’s not – but your brain takes note of things from a different perspective - almost a judgmental one, eyeing every little thing he does underneath the lens of “for the rest of my life.” I think the difference is that you start regarding that person as your spouse and it makes you slightly more patient and flexible and even more grateful when they do things to help you. Every morning Brett puts just the right amount of cream and sugar into the bottom of a mug so that when I get up, (just moments behind him, thank you) I just have to add coffee and I have a perfect cup. This is so unnecessary and kind. I realized that something like this when you’re dating a person would make you think, “Oh he’s so sweet… and probably trying to win me over.” but when you’re married to them and they do this you think, “They really do love me.” and that’s what makes being married ever so slightly different.
I won’t always be taking to my blog space to gush over the Big Guy. I don’t like this sort of thing you know, but having someone so cheerful and thoughtful hanging around in my home has been the greatest thing. Moving through the house and seeing that he’s wordlessly done a chore that’s always just been something you took care of yourself brings about a sense of gratitude and the consciousness that you’ve got a teammate now. Brett constantly thanks me for doing things I’d have never thought for him to do so I feel silly saying ‘you’re welcome’.
Who knew you could love a person even more than you did when you agreed to spend the rest of your life with them? I always thought that “love you more everyday” bit was just some Hallmark crap. Turns out it’s real thing and I feel awfully lucky.
Here’s to the Big Guy’s big day.
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