Mike and I recently celebrated our 8th wedding anniversary, I say celebrated but the truth is that the most celebratory thing about the day was that we both actually remembered. We don’t do anniversary’s well. It’s not due to any animosity towards the date or our marriage, it’s just that we don’t feel like we need a reason to go and have a nice dinner. Empty nesters have that luxury.
Our most memorable anniversary celebration was unintentional, we were out to dinner and I asked Mike if he wanted to do anything for our anniversary. We both paused, then realized that it was actually our anniversary. I laughed,and Mike admitted he was momentarily scared, having fallen down in the romance department. I wasn’t exactly the poster child for romance at that moment.
When the last kid went to college we had great plans for an attempt to resurrect the idea of being newlyweds, an attempt to capture the honeymoon phase of our relationship. Second marriages, and a blended family of 6 kids kind of beats the naivety and innocence out of the process. Our wedding wasn’t flowers, tuxes, and champagne either. We eloped.
When we were debating the pros and cons of having an actual wedding with guests we came to the conclusion that the expense, and the drama that comes with weddings, blended families and vindictive ex spouses wasn’t worth it.
As we were leaving the house to elope, I said to the kids gathered around the television, ‘Ok, we’re going to get married’ I was met with a course of ‘O.K’s’, and I think someone actually lifted their hand in the form of a wave good bye.
It wasn’t a terrible idea, an attempt to recapture the newlywed phase of our relationship. Then again, I know better, the day to day events of the dog pee’d on the floor, the horrible smell that wafts from my husbands goalie pads as he attempts to dry them out before his next game. That when he leaves for his office he will call to talk 5 minutes after he has left the house, and when he starts complaining about other drivers I will make up an excuse to get off the phone. Knowing that he wakes up an hour before me, and when he hears my feet hit the floor he pours my coffee. When I come into the kitchen bleary eyed and annoyed by his cheery, and much too loud GOOD MORNING he ignores my death glare and gives me a couple minutes to drink some coffee and rejuvenate as I admire Chris Cuomo. I know that he will have fed the dog, and emptied the dishwasher, and his suit coat will still be slung over the back of a kitchen chair from the day before.
I may have suggested returning to being newlyweds for fear that we had found ourselves mired in the minutiae of the day to day, but I know better now that it’s the day to day that makes a marriage.