I was on one of the parenting boards that I frequent and a question was asked, "Why did you get married?" This is what I posted:
I like him, I love him, I want some more of him...
We got married because we fit together well. Alone we stand up just fine, but together we interlock and make the walls of our family. We support each other, care for each other and make the other a better person. We guide each other, laugh together (a lot), and see the world in a similar way. Are things always perfect? Nope. But we end each day the same way -- spooning on our left sides, his arm wrapped around me. I couldn't ask for more.
It's been almost 13 years that Scott and I have been married and I am still amazed by the man. Yesterday was a perfect example.
The kids and I got home from daycare a little early and were greeted by all six of our garbage cans rolling around in the street. I swerved to avoid hitting them as I parked in front of the house, all the while glancing to see if the front door would open and Scott would burst forth to rescue the dancing cans. No such luck...
I get Milo out and ask him to stand on the sidewalk, but he is the ever helpful child and, while I was extricating Violet from her car seat, he started dragging the first garbage can onto the easement. I peered nervously up the street to make sure that there was no oncoming traffic and, like is most common of our street, it stared back at me, silent except for the lusty spring wind. Together he and I rescued and lidded all of the jolly cans, parking them in our front yard. As I was nesting the recycling bins together, Scott appeared on the porch, looking surprised that we were home early.
He greeted the kids enthusiastically, asking them if they had had good days and what they did. Milo was concerned about ferreting out a Tootsie Roll and Violet was protesting entering the house. Both dogs tap-danced by the front door, eager to nudge their family for affection.
As I entered the house, I noticed that the dishes that were in the sink from breakfast were still there, plus a few more. I deduced that the dishwasher hadn't been unloaded and that, likely, no housework had been done. Scott asked me how my day went. I said, "Fine. Busy afternoon -- speaker on campus. How was your day?"
"I played my game all day long," he crowed. My heart fell. Here I was, at work all day. Bringing home barely-trained monkeys who were screeching for food (Milo for Tootsie Rolls, Violet wanted to nurse), stumbling through the front door to find a bigger mess than I'd left. Seriously, who can walk by a sink full of dishes all day and NOT want to put them away? It takes less than fifteen minutes to tidy our kitchen if one is not being helped by imps. And he'd played World of Warcraft ALL.DAMN.DAY. I started unloading the dishwasher.
"I'm getting a shower." What? What?
"What? Why are you getting a shower NOW if you played your game all day?"
He stopped in the bathroom doorway. I noticed that he was flushed and sweaty. He looked at me, smiling, realizing that I was not amused and said, "Courtenay, look outside."
I peek out the kitchen window. I look at him, eyebrows raised and stride past him to the family room door and look out at the deck. It has been partially re-deceked and there are landscape timbers carefully drawing an outline around our back fence. He'd been landscaping, and from the looks of the results, he'd been at it most of the day.
I turn to him sheepishly and say, "Thank you -- that looks great!" Fortunately, he's not held my initial reaction over my head. In fact, we spent a pleasant afternoon outside with the kids, discussing how we are going to transform the rest of the backyard swamp into a place where the kids can run without having to worry about stepping into landmines of the stinky variety.
Yep, that's my guy...