Happy 10 Years, Matthew!

Let's get this out of the way: I am not an easy person. I know this. I can be frustratingly neurotic. Extremely difficult to please. Exasperatingly argumentative. (Especially when it comes to conservative republican opinions.) Extraordinarily outspoken. Somewhat bratty. And borderline insanely particular. I know all of this. Can I change it? I really don't think so since I'm 32 34 29 26 28 something. By now, the people who know this about me either tolerate me, love me, or don't have much to do with me... based on their abilities to get over it, embrace it, or enjoy a strange fascination with watching a true lunatic experience life the way I do.

With all that said, I'm not some awful human being. I'm fun and likeable and, on occasion, kind of amusing. I love with every part of my being. I'm, for the most part, easy to talk to and can lend a good ear to someone in need of a listener. I love my family and friends, and I know that my life would be paltry at best without them. I love being a mommy and a friend and a daughter and a sister and a wife.

A wife. You'd think that someone with all of these amazing precarious qualities might not have landed herself a husband, but, somehow, I did. You might think that after said husband figured out how crazy the woman he'd married was is that he'd be out the door quicker than a Southern Baptist in a Catholic church, be he's still here. 10 years. And he's still here.

And, man, what a ride this past decade has been. Two children. Two cats. One dog. Two house purchases. Four different college/grad/post-grad degrees. Successes. Failures. Excitement. Boredom. Travels. Fights. Making up. Hardships. Broken hearts. Scares. Adventures. Beauty. Challenges. Accomplishments. All a hundred times over. All full of emotion. What a ride.There's something to be said about marriage.

I remember when we were first married, and I was still working on my undergrad (I've mentioned I took the 10-year plan... which Ella and Summit will NOT take), and I took a class called Sociology of the Family. I'm not gonna lie, the stuff that professor taught was disheartening at best. It was like judgment day for a newlywed... learning how new love wears off and how real love is so difficult and can really suck at times. Despite the doom and gloom, I tried to keep it in perspective. Of course, new love wears off. Of course, real love is harder to manage. The reality of life will always set in and things won't be so easy. All of a sudden, those long toe nails you thought were cute are more like dirty tools that whittle figurines from wood. All of a sudden the steaming socks on the kitchen table aren't a sign of dishy thoughtless manstakes (those are mistakes made by men), but a super-annoying habit. Reality isn't easy in any form. But reality in marriage can be dangerous.

And that was the second lesson that I took from that sociology class. Many people just peace out when things turn not-so-peachy-keen. They decide the grass is greener in another life. Looking at the statistics of marriage in the US, it's obvious that a lot of people give up. Irreconcilable differences. Huh. Well, guess what... no matter what relationship one finds oneself in, there will always be irreconcilable differences. Marriage ain't easy. To be sure, it can be a bitch. But, if you're willing to work through the bitchy parts to get to the bitchin' parts, you'll find that you learn a lot about yourself and the person to whom you lend your hand in marriage. You'll find that you are capable of being a contributing member of a resilient party of two and, sometimes, you'll both be better off for having stuck through the thick and the thin.

So, Matthew, my love, my special angel, I thank you. Thank you for sticking with me through the thick and the thin. For putting up with my crazy and loving me inspite of me. For loving our children. For being strong and supportive and patient. For all of the years that we have spent together and all of the years that lie before us. You are an amazing husband and I realize that I haven't let you know just how awesome you are as often as I should. But, you are outstanding. I'm one lucky 33 31 29 27 34 28 something-year-old gal. I love you very much. Happy 10 Years!

PS: Can you please put your clothes in the freaking hamper. It's right beside the ground where your boxer shorts are laying.