I can tell you that it's very difficult to pretend you aren't waiting when you're saving...saving money, saving vacation and sick days, saving a room full of baby supplies. On one hand, you want to take that last single-without-kids vacation, but on the other, you know you might be sacrificing a week or more with your new baby by using up your paid time off. There's no maternity leave for new adoptive moms in a lot of states, and ours is one of them. Long-term commitments can't happen. So you set lots of little shorter-term goals. Run in a 5K, help out with the high school musical alumni production, maybe an overnight camping trip here and there. You only make commitments it wouldn't be a big deal to break.
The funny thing about this stage is that you feel like nothing's happening. You know you're getting closer, but you can't tell how far or how fast. So you talk about it, because it makes it more tangible, less surreal. And it starts becoming the thing that defines you to other people.
There's a lot more to us, though. I love working with my hands. I prefer sky-high heels and wear makeup every day, but no one could ever call me a girly-girl. I'm more comfortable shopping at Home Depot than the mall. If I see something I like, I rarely buy it. Instead, I try to design it, make it, or build it better than the original. I just started running, and did my first 5K, and I totally understand why lemmings do their thing. I'm a wealth of stupid trivia knowledge. I'd love to live in the country, and need open space to explore, because I'm claustrophobic. I love rollercoasters. My parents used to call me Snow White because I'm really good with animals. Just the other day, I got within six inches of a baby woodpecker, and fed him some peanut butter. I love comedies, and absolutely refuse to watch horror movies. I'm addicted to Pinterest, and would post my own projects, but I'm too impulsive to slow down and take before and after photos.
Doug loves fishing and would spend all day on the water, if we only had a boat. He goes hunting each year but loves animals more than anyone I know. He recently started learning to cook, and ten times out of ten, on his night to make dinner, he'll google the recipe for a gourmet meal rather than serve something easy like ham barbecue. He reads graphic novels (and gets annoyed when I call them comic books). He loves to tell a good story, and recognizes every pop culture reference he hears or sees. He's generous to a fault and loves giving gifts, so much so that he seems incapable of holding out for a surprise. He's competitive at games and most enjoys beating me. He's quick to apologize and to forgive.
We don't have a lot of common interests, but we can finish each other's sentences and we joke that we share a brain. I'm a little bit of a neat freak and he's a little bit of a slob, and we drive each other crazy, but we're happy.
One of my favorite memories of us, and the one I think sums us up in a nutshell involved an egg. Our first anniversary fell on Easter Sunday, and to commemorate it, we had a local artist carve a goose egg with the design of a Celtic cross (our wedding rings are from Ireland, to honor my heritage, since I took his very Italian last name). That egg made it safely through a move, and a major remodel, and then stood on a little clear stand on a shelf in our living room. Until the night I was dusting, and knocked it to the floor, where it shattered, Humpty-Dumpty style into a thousand pieces.
I texted Doug at work
Me: I'm so mad at myself. I broke something important.
Doug: Was it the egg?
Me: Yea, how did you know?
Doug: It's ok honey. It was fragile. Our love isn't.
Me: Aww. Now I'm crying again!
Doug: I'm glad you broke it. I always worried I would.
The next morning, I woke up, and on the shelf was a new egg:
And it was displayed on a peppermill.
...And that's why I love that man.
No comments:
Post a Comment